Chintito

Mother Stands for only Mother
Chintito

If DS's news report on 15 February is correct, I can help you all to come to the conclusion that Bangladesh has reached the standards of 'Western civilisation', whatever that stands for. Under the heading “Love lost, yet it goes on”, the front page Star report narrated the tale of a proud mother of four established children. Who knows? Perhaps she played her dutiful role in seeing that her children were set to lead a good life. Maybe she sacrificed some pleasures and made little savings to make it easy for her sons and daughters to study, to get better food, clothing.

She did well, one must admit. Her one son is a doctor, another is an architect. If employed, they should be leading a comfortable life. By that count, at sixty years of age, she should be sitting on a pedestal made of love and gratitude, and her sons should be repaying forever the 'bank' to which they owe their entire upbringing. At least that is the notion one gets from the report.

That is half the story. The 'successful' mother has two daughters too. Are they a burden to the society, whatever that stands for? Hardly! One of her daughters lives in the States, the barometer of sense and nonsense, and one assumes she is doing okay there. And the other daughter is married to a wealthy person. It is said that daughters are most loyal to their parents, and always look after their elderly mother and father. Therefore, this lady should be the happiest mom in the world, okay, one of the happiest.

In following the lessons and traditions of the Western society, none of the four children have kept the mother with them. Instead, she lives alone. That must be in her (own) house, a small apartment in the least. The architect is making some surely. She should be having a house, one would imagine, the beloved mother of a doctor, an architect, a spouse of a wealthy jamai, and someone dealing in dollars.

The mother who breastfed and sang lullabies for these envoys of the younger generation is now a resident of an Old People's Home in the capital. That is so cool, so much like it is in the UK, the USA. So they must have ensured a private cabin for her, as all her children are educated, whatever that stands for.

Actually she sleeps in a ward, and is taken care of by a nurse. The fact that her son is a doctor must cross one's mind every time some treatment is going on. Her son is at that very moment treating so many others, somewhere else. There may be some who even think that her son, the doctor, is like their son.

The sons do not visit her. Nor do the daughters, whatever that stands for.

In the entire report, the one element that stands out is the love the neglected mother treasures for her loving children. She tells the DS reporter that she feels great when her children visit her. She was trying to portray her 'loving' children as nice people. That is the mother in her that was talking. Even in her most adverse situation, she did want to let the world know that her children were good. She could not betray her feelings that emanate from the umbilical cord which she shared with her children.

The attending nurse reminded her politely that her sons never visited her. Who knows why? Maybe they are busy offering their paid services. If they stopped to think for one moment how they became what they did, they would have stooped their head in respect and appreciation.

The daughters have a four-fold better performance. They have visited their mother four times in the last four years. Who knows why? Maybe because Eid-ul-Fitr comes once a year!

But does anyone remain unloved? Can it be? One news reported that on Valentine's Day flowers worth taka two crore will be sold in Jessore. That is a lot of love going around. Our mother, lying neglected on her bed (yeah! She has one) has her share of love too.

She has an attendant, a poor lady who was paid for by the mother's sisters. But the report says that the attending lady's salary stopped three months ago. Has she left our mother? No. Who knows why? A sufferer can feel the pain of another suffering. Together they cry. They laugh.

Our mother, living in the most humiliating of conditions, given the enviable success of her children, has once again shown, as have been eternally done an infinite number of times, that the love of a mother is undying. Neglected, she says she feels great. Oh! Mother!

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