JAYAMMA MY MOTHER
Hail to Mother
My mother — a wondrous soul so rare,
None can match her strength and care.
Fourth daughter born in a humble home,
Yet, her father chose to leave and roam.
Grandma, left with daughters four,
Found refuge at her sister’s door.
That aunt and uncle raised them all,
Guided them through life’s every call.
At eighteen, my mother wed,
To a man whose two wives had died.
She heeded elders, calm and kind,
Believed in plenty, peace of mind.
Her husband came from wealth and grace,
Held a noble, steady place.
We six children filled their days
Three sons, three daughters in life’s maze.
Father passed, his heart gave way,
At forty, she faced the darkest day.
We were still young, still learning life,
She stood alone — a mother, wife.
With income gone and savings thin,
She kept us safe through thick and thin.
No trace of sorrow did she show,
She bore the storm, let love just flow.
She raised us strong, saw each one wed,
With quiet grace, our paths she led.
When money lacked, her jewels she gave,
Her eldest worked, the debts to save.
We moved ahead, in lives apart,
She found new joy in grandchildren's heart.
Yet sorrow knocked, took sons-in-law two,
Then her own son, as time cruelly flew.
Through all of this, not once she cried,
Her joys and griefs she chose to hide.
To friends and kin, she smiled so bright,
With endless calm, with quiet might.
And true to name, she conquered all,
Jayamma — mother, noble and tall.
- Gopinath S
(penned on 11may 2025 Mother's day)