I heard many times before
When sad, mothers become trees
They become clouds,
when there is more sorrow
And a rosary,
when they are more sorry

I knew a long time ago,
The Annas and Paisas
That the grandmother carried with her
At the time of partition
Are stale coins now
Like our country and the river Ganges,
The river Padma and Teesta
And like the uncountable families
Mothers are being parted
Exhausted and sacrificed

I have seen many times before
Lighting evening lamps
At holy basil base
Praying before the divine mother
And after immolation of idols
Spraying the holy river water,
Chanting, ‘Oh Peace !’
Mothers wish good lucks
And always wish our prosperity

I thought long ago
that Jerusalem via Nabadwip
Is indeed a long distance
And a journey is not possible,
crossing so many nation’s borders
I saw the mother’s womb
And Mother Teresa as well
Mothers are God
And become God in the order

Cover image by Isaac Quesada on Unsplash. The copyright of Mothers Are Like That belongs to Somdev Chattopadhyay.

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