10/05/2026
She is not an ordinary mother.
When she was born, her mother was admitted to a mental hospital, her father married another woman, and her stepmother treated her as cruelly as possible.
She left school only after 7th grade due to her parentsโ wishes.
Eventually, she married at the age of 15, hoping to escape her stepmother, the responsibilities of caring for her brothers, and all other forms of torture.
She married an Army officer and spent only a few months in Delhi with him, where he was stationed.
When the 1971 war started, she returned to her hometown, gave birth to me, her first son, and began living separately near her parents.
Time passed, and she had three children, including me, but spent only three or four years with her Army officer husband, as he was posted on the border in places like Mizoram and Ladakh, where family accompaniment was impossible.
After his retirement, her husband struggled to adjust to civilian life and relatives, making the next five years hellish for her.
In 1989, my father passed away in an accident.
Although she was the wife of an Army officer, to support her family, she took on all possible jobs, such as working as a helper in the cement industries where the work was laborious, and sewing ready-made clothes, all with the hope that one day her sons would grow up and take care of her.
She supported me in becoming an engineer, and my brothers too.
Eventually, I got married, and that credit also goes to her.
Mine was a love marriage, and there was significant resistance from the family in the '90s, but she supported me, and my marriage took place.
Five years ago, her beloved son, my younger brother, passed away from a cardiac attack, which temporarily broke her spirit, but she once again took charge of her life.
Now, at 71, she lives alone, practicing a disciplined life that could easily be disrupted.
She chooses not to get involved in โMohmaya.โ She wakes up at 5:30 AM, does her yoga, massages her knees, meditates, eats sattvic food, and spends the entire day in meditation and Dhyanyoga.
Sometimes, she does social work, like spreading the message of a spiritual guru, distributing their magazines, providing food, and serving in an ashram, living her life independently and happily.
I'm successful today because of my mom's love, her Sanskar, her support, and her sacrifice.
Happy Mother's Day my Super Mom!
Thank you for being my constant support and my guiding star.
You've taught me the true meaning of love and compassion, and I am forever grateful for every sacrifice you've made.
