For every loving mother out there, specially for my mumma, Harsha Babariya.
The greatest blessing that God has ever given human beings is our moms. Their unconditional love, selflessness, and fondness have turned us into better, more loving human beings.
I am eternally grateful to have her as my mother, she has shaped the lens through which I view the world and sculpted me into the great person I have become today.
A mother is not merely a person. She is a season of warmth that never truly leaves.
I am enticed by her beauty, her caring persona, and the confident individuality that she holds for her child.
Even before we learn languages, we learn their heartbeat rhythm. Even before we understand what love denotes, we live within it. A mother exists in the quiet architecture of our lives, in prayers whispered into pillows, in hands that somehow know exactly where the pain is hiding. She is the cradle of warmth, strength, and values that we uphold.
The world often describes mothers as a sacrifice, but the word feels too insufficient and small. Sacrifice sounds like a loss. But mothers do not simply lose; they transform us. They turn sleepless nights into lullabies, worries into warmth, exhaustion into routines. They become magicians of our ordinary life, filling it with happiness, making homes out of chaos and comfort out of nothing.
I stand tall and proud because of my mother; her values, warmth, and empathy have framed me as the individual I am today. She is the thread of my longevity, my sense of belongingness, and the only person who understands me completely without a single utterance.
There is something beautifully invisible about motherhood that no one ever credits them for. The way mothers remember every tiny detail that no one else notices. The way they can identify footsteps from another room. The way they say ‘eat properly’ when what they really mean is “please take care of yourself because my heart lives inside you”, just thinking about it brings tears to my soul.
A mother keeps aging in secret, one day you will suddenly notice silver threads in her hair, softness in her hands, tiredness in her smile, and you realize that time has been touching her while she was busy protecting you from it.
As children, we believe our mothers are unbreakable. They fix everything: torn clothes, broken confidence, fevered nights, shattered dreams. But growing older is realizing that mothers are human too. They cry in bathrooms so no one hears. They carry fears they never speak aloud. They keep going even when life has taken pieces of them.
And still, somehow, they love endlessly.
A mother’s love is not loud; it rarely announces itself. As we grew up, this realization struck us more. It hides in repeated phone calls, extra blankets, continuous prayers and blessings, and the constant “message me when you reach”. It is stitched quietly into our daily life until one day you move away and discover that the growing silence can ache.
No language or discourse is large enough to account for the weight of what she gives. Entire civilizations have been built on the strength of women who were called “just mothers.”
But a fact remains, a mother alone can run and frame an entire community, their strength, love, and courage are the greatest power any entity can uphold.
Perhaps the truest thing about mothers is this:
They teach us how to love long before we understand the notion of love.
And although after sometime we leave home or start planning our own lives, some fraction of us still continue to search for her, in their kindness, in the sense of safety they provide us, in the softness, also sometimes in people who feel like sunlight after difficult days.
At some point, we start to comprehend the greatness hidden behind her stringent advices, her affection echoed behind her quiet and small actions, and her empathy for your success in each and every step she plans.
Maybe this is the foremost reason why the word ‘mother’ sounds less like a title and more like a sense of belongingness.
A place we spend our whole lives trying to return to.
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