I really wished this letter could find you in good health. Hope, would be a wrong word to use here as I have come to realize that I have been a very bad son of late and your poor health is much to my credit. Not paying any heed to your warnings, lavishing at your fast ending reserves, and that too without any sense of gratitude. I just added more wrinkles to your beautiful face.
Ma, I am sorry. I have been an ignorant child. My hunger for wealth had made me blind. I failed to see what I might be doing to my own family, to you. I grew stronger day by day, but it was all outwardly. Inside, this lust hollowed me like a termite.
You nourished me, sustained me, and helped me grow. You were my pillow when I wanted to sleep and your silken fringe was my hide out, when lightening scared me. And what did I do to you? Sold your jewels, brought you down to rags and still didn’t care. I have crossed you, wronged you and literally abused you. Mother, I am sorry. You covered me with a blanket to protect me from cold. The very same blanket lit up with your warm benevolence in the sun. And I, made holes in it. You lit my skies with deep blue and I painted them, most of the times with black and sometimes with crimson.
I was supposed to be a good son. I was supposed to make my mother proud. You are the only one in this limitless cosm who could have accepted me. And look what I did? I dried the tears of your eyes. Now I look forward to see that rain again, for it is my elixir of life.
All along, you didn’t say a word. Never let out a sigh, or a wail of disgust. You just smiled, and patted me for everything I achieved. Though everything I did took its toll on you, you have always been there. The smell of success intoxicated me. I lost my sense of right or wrong. I just wanted one thing, power (or prosperity as some may call it). You were my constant support, and I took you for granted.
When you hit me, it was to warn me. And I did not realize it. I cried out, and in anger asked, “Why? Why did you do this to me?” Never did I wonder, how many times I might have tortured you, and that too, while donning a guilt free grin on my face. I failed to see, how much it might have pained you, when I mercilessly plucked little trees from your skin. I scourged your fingers, cut them deep, and when it oozed lava, I just ran away, without making arrangements for bandages to the wounds that I had inflicted. I dug deep into your skin, with no anesthesia, and plundered whatever material pleasures I could derive from it.
I am sorry mother, for all that I have done. I have been a complete idiot. I have hurt you, and the wounds I have given, won’t heal that easily. I realize my follies, and I want to rewind. I want to restore you, to re-ornate you. I know you are upset, and you have every right to be so. But trust me mother, I will do whatever I am capable of. My true power is you, and I cannot afford to lose my mother.
You are growing old, and I want to rejuvenate you. I am nothing without you. You are my ground to stand and my sky to soar. Above all, you are my mother, and I am nothing without you. I could have never been if it was not you. I need you!
Forgive me Mother,