Old-Age Mother (Poem)

Once, laughter used to bloom at the doorstep of that house.
In the kitchen, the clatter of vessels sounded like music.
Children’s shouts, the husband’s calls, the joy of festivals.
The life of that house was one person… Mother.

She would wake up even before the sun rose,
prepare breakfast for the children,
pack meals for her husband,
wash the children’s clothes, arrange their school bags,
and take care of everyone’s needs in the house.
Her name was Devaki.

At home, only her husband called her by that name.
He loved her deeply.
When he returned home tired,
she would hide her own exhaustion and greet him with a smile, offering water.

If anyone in the house was in pain,
hers was the first heart to feel it.
She forgot her own hunger to feed her children.

She gave up her sleep to sit beside them during their fevers.
She buried her own desires
and gave wings to her children’s dreams.

All her life, she lived for others…
not even a single day for herself.
But time never stays the same.

The children grew up,
One got a job in the city, another settled abroad.
In old age, her husband passed away due to illness.

From that day, Devaki’s life became like a lamp that had lost its light.

When her husband was alive, she had someone to talk to.
Now, only the walls responded.
Even her footsteps echoed in silence.

Her heart filled with loneliness.
She grew older.
Her legs weakened.
Her hands trembled.
She could no longer do household work.

She didn’t have the strength to care for her grandchildren.
And then, in her children’s eyes,
she was no longer “Mother”…
but an “unnecessary burden.”

One day, her son said,
“It’s difficult to keep Mother with us.”
Her daughter said,
“I have kids and work… I can’t take care of her.”

She wished to stay with her children.
She wished to hear their voices.
She longed to see her grandchildren smile.
But there was no place for her there.
In their eyes, she was no longer in love…
she had become responsible.

The next day, they decided to take her to an old-age home.
“It’s hard to take care of her.”
“There’s no space at home.”
“The children will be disturbed.”
“She’ll be better off in an old-age home.”

Those words pierced her heart like knives.
Half of her died in that very moment.
Though the house was full of people,
her world had become empty.

The next day, they took her to an old-age home,
but there was no place available there either.

So they brought her back home.
That night, her eyes held only memories.

The next morning, when they opened the door,
Devaki was lying there… silent and still.

In her hand was a small piece of old cloth,
tied around two gold bangles,
the last treasure she had saved for her children.

Beside her was a small note:
“Dear God…
Even if they forget me, it’s okay.
Keep them happy.
Let them live with smiles.
Because they are my children…”

A house that neglects a mother,
no matter how big, remains empty.
A hut that respects a mother,
no matter how small, becomes heaven.