Category: Eternal Love: A Mother’s Legacy

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Ending the Inheritance of silence

I faintly remember a time when my mother’s jewellery was taken and invested in the family business—an investment that never returned and eventually dissolved. Perhaps I was too young to fully understand it then, but the memory stayed. Now, I understand that when the dignity of the women in a home is compromised, the cost is often far greater than what we see on the surface.

I silently worked harder, and key reason was to give my parents a better life and buy jewellery for my mother. When I finally felt I had saved enough to buy her something, she had no desire to wear such things. Perhaps she might have wanted them in the past—but in truth, she never really had a fascination for it. Somewhere, she only wanted it for her daughters, for our future, for our marriages.

When I was finally in a position to buy something for her, she had lost interest and instead insisted on buying things for me.

This brings me to what I’ve been reflecting on lately. For the past few years, I’ve wanted to travel to certain destinations, but due to several challenges, I couldn’t. Now that I finally have the freedom and approval at home to travel, it feels somewhat meaningless.

I feel that if I am to spend 5–6 days of my time, it should be meaningful. For the past 10 years, writing has been my inner calling, and it has deepened even more after everything with my mother. I now feel drawn toward a writing retreat—something that adds value, perhaps a workshop or program that contributes to my growth—rather than just travel.

Recently, I did go on a trip. When I reflect on it, I had an incredible time and entered a very introspective space. That journey gave me room to think about self-development, and perhaps I should travel for liesure once in a while. But right now, what feels like a priority is nurturing my growth, evolving, and building my skill set in this fast-changing world.

Is this why I feel these mixed emotions—that I was unable to have what I once longed for, and now, when it is within reach, it feels meaningless? Or is this a reflection of how I have evolved over time? Or perhaps, is this an opportunity for me to break the pattern of generational setbacks that my mother/grandmother and those before them may have experienced? A question worth pondering.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Love in the Physical Realm

I had grown up seeing my parents’ critical illnesses. Dad had cerebral attacks twice, two years in a row, while I was in school, and later, during my CA Inter exams, he met with an accident. My mom had multiple health issues—her uterus was removed when I was in college, and she faced critical pre- and post-menopausal issues. She was seriously ill to the extent that she was on a ventilator for a couple of weeks before I got my job. Later, she was diagnosed with COPD and was admitted again due to another acute exacerbation of COPD.

Childhood, for me, was learning survival before learning life.

I worked with a multinational as a Chartered accountant that was highly demanding. I belonged to a generation that believed in hard work, respecting seniors, and staying silent even when something felt incorrect. On the few occasions when I did try to take a stand for myself, I saw the true nature of management.

In November 2015, almost seven years before her departure, my mother was diagnosed with COPD and became critically ill. One hospital even advised us to take her home, saying there were no chances of survival. However, we were not ready to give up on her and decided to try another hospital.

Hope became our only treatment when medicine gave up.

Thankfully, after more than a month of treatment, she was discharged. At that time, the doctor mentioned that her survival chances were minimal—perhaps a couple of years at most.

Due to her condition, my mother had to use a BiPAP machine—a mask covering the nose and mouth, connected to an oxygen supply, often referred to as a portable ventilator. When she was discharged, she had to use it 24 hours a day.

During the same period, my father also fell critically ill and was on bed rest. Both my support systems, my elder sisters, could not be around due to medical emergencies in their in-laws’ families. It was also my promotion year, and I was the family’s breadwinner. I arranged the BiPAP machine and oxygen machine, though I had no clue about these machines in the first place.

Every night felt like a nightmare. She developed rashes around her nose and head because of the mask, but she had no choice. Thankfully, with proper care and precautions, after six months the doctor advised that she could limit its use to nighttime only, which was the biggest achievement of my life, and my promotion at work felt meaningless. It was her willpower to get better for me that made this possible.

Even in her suffering, she chose me every day.

I remember that whenever she removed the BiPAP, it felt as if she had been freed from a cage. A few years later, I was once advised to use a nebulizer for a cough for just a few minutes. It only covered the nose, yet it felt as if death would be better than that feeling. She, however, had to use it for 24 hours, and later years, many times during the day as well. There were moments when I had to insist on her putting it on, but each time it would break and shatter me from within.

Her love was not expressed in words, but in how she managed pain silently while ensuring I was never affected by it.

One blood test was done every 2–3 months in which the needle was injected in arteries to assess her blood oxygen and co2 level and it caused intense pain for months and led to crazy blood clots. I often wondered how she mentally prepared herself for that test every single time. Why did she carry so much willpower just for me? Yet, throughout her life, she remained grateful, believing that I was responsible for giving her another life. I did not want to marry someone who would not support me in taking care of my parents after marriage or expect me to live only in the vicinity of my in-laws’ home. I was only a reflection of her love and sacrifice, not my own doing.

Her struggle was invisible, but it defined my entire existence.

My mother never gave up, perhaps especially since I was still unmarried. She continued leading a difficult life with artificial breathing for seven years, worrying about me and wanting to see me settled. To her, I was still a little child.

For her, my life was not separate from hers—it was her reason to endure.

She developed ulcers on her tongue, and even the taste of salt caused a burning sensation in her mouth, affecting her ability to taste. Yet she still cared so much about every minute detail for me. I remember how her hands would tremble due to multiple health issues, including a vitamin deficiency. Yet, with those same trembling hands, she would cut a plate full of fruits for me every day—tasting each piece first, because she knew I wouldn’t eat it if it was sour. She wanted me to stay healthy. She even cooked meals for me out of affection despite her sickness.

She was more alert to my smallest discomfort than her own severe pain.

Irrespective of our situation, she gave me the life of a princess. She was my shelter and support system at all times; even when I didn’t speak, she heard me. When I saw no hope, she assured me that better days were ahead, and they would unfold gradually, though her health kept deteriorating.

Even in her weakest physical state, she was my strongest emotional support.

I feared losing her, and I remember that in the middle of the night, I would wake up to check on her, to see if she was still breathing. I can’t even count how many nights I slept, soaked in tears, filled with the pain of seeing my mother suffer.

Her love was silent, but it filled every corner of my life more than words ever could. I never had to hear her love—I lived inside it every day.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Love that walks with me beyond this realm

In those deep cries, when not just every cell but my subtle body and soul mourn… and then, within seconds, a sudden surge of calmness fills me — as if you have placed your palm on my head or held me in a loving embrace. I know it’s you.

Your love has become my inner compass — guiding me even when I lose my way.

In those moments of restlessness, when I seek answer through various means, and the messages that come my way bring solace to my heart… it’s you.

I feel you in every shift of energy, every quiet reassurance.

In those moments when special days arrive — and knowing how I have lived them in the past with your presence around — you never miss an opportunity to surprise me without any expectation. And I am left awestruck.

You still find your way to me, just in quieter, softer ways.

In those times when I feel helpless or lose my temper, and guilt overwhelms me, and I seek divine guidance… the wise thoughts that arise within me are through you — lifting me back up.

You live in the silence between my breaths, in the wisdom that rises when I surrender.

Eternally yours, your daughter

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy Personal Triumph

Her Light

There were many moments in my life when my belief system was shaken, and hope seemed like a distant flicker. In those moments, I always turned to Mumma. I would sit with my thoughts, reflecting on how she imparted so much strength to me—how she could find even a single ray of hope in the darkest of times, where I saw none.

Her unwavering faith in my potential carried me further than I could have imagined. Without it, I might have landed nowhere. Today, as I look at where I stand, I realize that it is because of her blessings and belief that my mind has been trained, my spirit strengthened, and my path illuminated.

I am still on my journey—far from the heights the universe envisions for me—but with every step, I strive not just for myself, but to honor her. Every achievement, every milestone, every small victory is a way to lift her higher, to make her pride and blessings shine even brighter through me.

A mother is a guiding light, and we are never too old to share our challenges and struggles with her. She is a ray of hope in the darkest moments, where everything else seems impossible. I once wondered if sharing more might have spared me some pain—but now I trust it was part of a larger plan, God’s way of preparing me and carrying forward what her presence had already begun in me.

This is my journey, and it is hers too. Through her faith, I have learned that even in darkness, there is light. And that light carries the power to shape our destiny—one step at a time.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

A Daughter’s Farewell – Heart, Love, Soul, and Devotion

A few months before her departure, during a conversation about death, she had told me something profound. She said that if one writes Ram with sandalwood 108 times on the body after death, the soul attains moksha and reaches Baikunth Lok. She shared that people in olden times believed and practiced this, but in today’s world, no one has the time or devotion to do it anymore. Her words etched themselves into my heart without me knowing why. I did not utter anything to her then but I made up my mind quite do that when time comes. But I had no hint that it would come so soon then.

Despite her critical illness, I prayed with every breath, but destiny had already written a different script. When I saw her body in the ICU, I couldn’t believe she was no longer there. For the first time in my life, I stood so close to death. It felt as if the ground beneath me collapsed, and my whole universe crumpled into pieces. In that moment, it felt as though the Lord had taken away my very reason for living in this realm. Also, it didn’t feel like a body—it felt like the remnant of a soul, her divinity—like a calm, an aura, or a sense of stillness.

I remembered her words and thought of arranging sandalwood to write Ram 108 times on her body. But my emotions, my love, and my devotion could not wait for hours. Instead of waiting for hours for her body to be discharged by the hospital, I longed to write with the depth of my soul—the purity of love I held for her—using the very fingers she once held, with the same love with which she had nurtured me. So, with trembling hands, I wrote Ram 108 times on her body—each stroke filled with love, prayers, and devotion, even as my heart shattered into pieces. Every ‘Ram’ was a prayer, every stroke a tear, every letter a surrender.

I stood firm, determined to perform all her rituals—even those traditionally reserved for a son in Hindu tradition—and my family, too, agreed, recognizing the depth of my love for her. In their acceptance, I felt the world acknowledging my bond and devotion towards her.

Later in the afternoon, while we were waiting for the insurance formalities to be cleared so we could take her body for the rituals, I got my cycle. I never believed in this tradition—in fact, I have always seen the cycle as purely biological. But for my Mumma’s upliftment and for her soul to rest in peace, I did not want to become an obstacle from the perspective of tradition.

Her body was fragile, covered with wounds and water was oozing out from her skin. Even in that fragile, wounded body, I saw the strength with which she had lived and loved. The hospital authorities did bandage most her body before releasing. I had witnessed her suffering so closely, but most people must have lost their senses—it was unbearable to see her in such a terrible condition.

As per Hindu tradition, I was not allowed to perform the ceremony, and in that moment, I realized something deeper: the Lord and my Mumma had already accepted my pure devotion and love.

In that moment, I knew, irrespective of my cycle, it was impossible to write with sandalwood on her body and with certainty: what I had done earlier—writing Ram 108 times with my own fingers, with love and prayer was accepted and truest of rituals already performed through these hands.

In that truth, I found peace—knowing the Lord and my Mumma had already accepted my devotion, that her soul had reached where it was meant to be, and that our bond would remain unbroken for eternity.

With every breath, I know—I’m on my way to the eternal Home, where Mumma waits, and love lives forever.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Mother – The Highest Manifestation of the Divine

When my mother was ill, I picked up the Bhagavad Gita for the very first time and read it from beginning to end. The strongest message it gave me was this: the soul never dies. At that time, I did not know it was part of her plan — Krishna’s plan — to prepare me for what was to come.

Without warning, at an unexpected moment, she left this world. Looking back, I realize her departure was not just an ending but a divine teaching. Through her, Krishna made me live the truth of the Gita — that while the body perishes, the soul remains eternal.

She carried the weight of suffering her whole life, and even in her final weeks, it intensified to an unimaginable level. Only later did I understand — her suffering was not just hers. It was a lesson for me: to let go, to surrender, and to accept the eternal journey of the soul.

In those moments, I prayed that all the punya (merit) of my Gita reading be offered to her. My only wish on her departure was that she never returns to this realm again, for she deserves liberation forever. If it takes me countless births to balance her share of suffering, I am ready. Her story, if ever written, must be told as the story of a Goddess — for she was nothing less.

And then a deeper realization arises within me: perhaps it was Krishna Himself who had taken form as my mother, untouched by the bonds of this earthly plane. She must already be liberated, already merged into Krishna — the all-pervading, eternal presence.

Today, I breathe with this prayer: My breath is to her, from her, and for her. I ask the Almighty — give me pain, give me suffering beyond imagination if needed, but never let her endure another life of struggle.

Her life was my scripture. It taught me that while the body perishes, love does not. While grief shatters us, surrender heals us. And while we mourn loss, the soul journeys onward — free, eternal, untouched.

Every mother is that divine manifestation — higher than the Lord Himself, as even the scriptures remind us. Through her, I have seen the eternal truth: Mother is the purest form of God, and her love is the closest reflection of eternity.

Her liberation is my prayer.
And every breath I take is her legacy.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy Krishna's Devotee!!! Personal Triumph

The Last Scene I Wish to Carry in My Heart

As I journey deeper into awareness, I realize one eternal truth — everything in this world is an illusion. All relationships are fleeting shadows. Yet, amidst this great illusion, there is one bond in human form that shines with unmatched love and light, guiding us unfailingly towards the Divine — the bond with Mother.

Even the father’s love is profound, but it is the mother’s embrace, her sacrifices, her unconditional grace that is supreme. In her, I see the living altar of divinity.

Before I leave this world — before I transcend this illusion — the last scene I wish to hold in my heart is this:

My mother as Anjani Mata, myself as Hanuman Ji, and before her stands Lord Ram. As per the sacred katha, Lord Ram, the very embodiment of dharma, bows before Anjani Mata with folded hands and says:

“Dhanya, dhanya ho Anjani Mata,
jinhone aise Lal ko janm diya.”

Blessed indeed is Anjani Mata, who gave birth to such a son.

For me, Krishna is everything — the all-pervading presence. But in my heart, when I live this scene, I see Him not just as the Creator, but as the Lord of love, the eternal guide of the soul. In that divine vision, the Lord Himself bows at my mother’s lotus feet, honoring her love, her sacrifices, and her nurturing presence that shaped me into who I am.

Sometimes, I even meditate on this very scene — as if rehearsing my final moment as a human. Each time, it draws me into a transcendent state, where tears of gratitude and devotion flow. In that stillness, I feel an immense motivation: to be good, to do good, and to live in service.

And so, in my final breath, I pray that the last image I carry is of this divine scene:

My mother, radiant as Anjani Mata.

Myself, ever her Hanuman, forever in her service.

And the Lord Himself — as Krishna, the Creator — bowing in reverence at her lotus feet.

For in truth, to be born of such a mother is itself God’s greatest blessing.
And the feet of the mother will forever remain the first temple where Divinity dwells.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Divine Will and a Mother’s Eternal Love: A Journey of Faith, Pain, and Gratitude

Nothing happens against the will of God.

The Lord gave me indications—not just once but multiple times.

In 2019, I was so homesick while working in Hyderabad that I left my job and returned home without any other opportunity lined up. I didn’t know then that this decision was part of a divine plan. For the last few years, I watched you, Mumma, suffer day and night. In the year leading up to your departure, your unconditional love and immense suffering consumed my every thought.

Despite the pain and the terrible side effects of the steroids you had been on for years, you never stopped pouring love upon me or teaching me profound wisdom. I remember those sleepless nights vividly—times when the world was at rest, and you struggled to sleep. I’d wake up in the middle of the night out of sheer fear to check if you were still breathing. Many nights, I lay awake, helpless, crying into my pillow, hiding my tears so you wouldn’t notice.

I wasn’t ready to lose you, Mumma. I don’t think I ever would have been ready. Perhaps my desire to hold on to you was selfish.

After Aunt passed away, my reality check deepened. I found it impossible to focus on work, overwhelmed by an urge to leave everything behind and spend all my time with you and Daddy—caring for you, serving you, and giving you every bit of love I could muster.

I used to hold a glass of water every day and imagine happy times—the three of us healthy and joyous together. The thought of losing you was unbearable. I knew friends who had lost a parent, and I always thought I wouldn’t survive if that happened to me. When the doctors discovered gallstones, I was terrified. They warned us that anesthesia wasn’t an option and that a sudden burst could be fatal.

I prayed relentlessly for years, asking God for more time with you. I longed to see you celebrate 50 years of marriage with Daddy—a dream that came true. But I also wanted to find you a son-in-law and surprise you on your anniversary. I failed at that, Mumma. I struggled to make that dream come true, and it weighs heavily on me.

The Divine Indications I Missed

In those days before your health deteriorated, you gave me signs, but I didn’t want to see them for what they were.

  • You asked Daddy to give me holy water after the Hanuman Chalisa every day. I came to you crying, asking why you’d told him to do it instead of doing it yourself.
  • I saw you laughing one last time—a joyous, carefree laugh that reminded me of Naniji(Grandmother). She too had laughed like that shortly before her passing.
  • I stumbled upon an online horoscope that mentioned severe illness in the family.
  • Multiple social media posts about mothers passing away appeared before me, haunting my thoughts.
  • I read an article stating that the first thing a person loses near death is their sense of taste. I saw you struggle with mouth ulcers and affirmed to myself, “This is not the time; Mumma will live a long life.”

I clung to denial.

On the ventilator, you asked me to consider Lord Krishna as my Guru. You had always worshipped Lord Krishna and Balaji, and in that moment, it became clear: Krishna is my Lord, and you are my personal Guru.

Today, I find solace in knowing that you are free from pain and suffering, resting in peace in Baikunth Lok.

Gurve Namah! 🙏🙏🙏

Your eternal love, teachings, and connection to the divine will guide me for the rest of my life. You, Daddy, and Lord Krishna are One in my heart.

My heart is full of love and gratitude for you. Always. ❤️

Thank you for everything. 🙏

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Whispers of the Divine: A Mother’s Love Across Realms

They say you embarked on a new journey to a heavenly abode, but to me, you have always transcended human form, even while you walked this earth. Your extraordinary ability to read my mind and see into my heart was a rare gift. Despite the generational divide, you understood me in ways that no one else ever could. It felt as though you lived in my soul, grasping every nuance and detail far beyond what those my age could ever comprehend.

Your prayers and boundless love—both maternal and divine—made the impossible possible. They shaped my very belief system, instilling in me a faith that continues to guide me today. When life overwhelmed me, simply placing my head beneath your veil wiped away my pain, allowing me to find solace in your presence. You were my refuge.

Like the nurturing arms of Mother Nature, you allowed me to thrive under your care. Even when I faltered or neglected my responsibilities, much like how we often take our planet for granted, you forgave me without hesitation. You continued to give, as only a mother could. I slept in your protection and awakened each day wrapped in the warmth of your love. Not a single moment passes without feeling your protective shield around me—in every breath I take and every stirring of my heart. The sheer ehsaas of you lingers in the air, reminding me of the goddess you always were.

Worshipping Ma Durga brings me back to you—the way your love, care, and blessings empowered me to face my inner demons. It was your nurturing spirit that helped me conquer my shortcomings, allowing me to focus on the strength you always recognized in me.

When I invoke Ma Laxmi, I remember the abundance you blessed me with—not just in material wealth, but in spiritual prosperity and self-knowledge, guiding me toward liberation. You opened my eyes to the riches within, treasures I carry with me every day.

And then there’s Ma Saraswati—she brings back the peace I felt in your presence, the serenity found in the safety of your veil. You awakened a power in me that I didn’t know I possessed, the limitless potential that fuels my journey.

Ma Saraswati also reminds me of that bittersweet moment when the world outside bid farewell to her idol while I was bidding farewell to you, as you left this realm during your cremation ceremony.

It wasn’t mere coincidence; life has no random acts. There was a deeper synchronicity at play, as if the universe mirrored my grief, reminding me that just like the goddess you were, you will always be a part of me.

“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they must be felt with the heart.” – Helen Keller

You are my eternal guide, my divine mother, and in every breath, I carry your essence with me, forever intertwined.

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Eternal Love: A Mother's Legacy

Adversity to Triumph : Mother’s Enduring Love

As I reflect on my life and the profound impact my mother had on it, I am overwhelmed by a mix of grief, gratitude, and awe. Today, I want to share a story that’s etched deeply in my heart—one that speaks of resilience, sacrifice, and an enduring bond that defied all odds.

On my very first birthday, my mother was in the hospital undergoing a crucial operation. Despite her own suffering and the uncertain future, she ensured that I wore a new dress for my special day. It wasn’t just a dress—it was a symbol of her undying love and her refusal to let her own trials overshadow my joy. Given the circumstances, she understood there might be no one else to celebrate my birthday at home. It was a gesture of hope and defiance against the adversity that surrounded us.

From the moment I came into this world, my mother’s life was marked by hardships. My grandmother had initially rejected me because I was not the grandson she had hoped for. Such rejection could have been a blow to anyone’s spirit, but my mother faced it with an unbreakable resolve.

Soon after my birth, I fell gravely ill. Doctors gave up hope, stating that my survival was unlikely. Yet, my mother’s faith never wavered. She clung to hope with a tenacity that seemed almost supernatural. She prayed fervently, undertook austerities, and observed fasts, never giving up on me, even when the medical community had written me off.

The Lord had a plan, and that plan was to give us years together that we would come to cherish. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been raised by the strongest woman in the universe—a woman who, despite the rejections and adversities, embraced me with a mother’s love and dedicated her life to my well-being. She sacrificed her comfort, her health, and her own dreams to provide me with education, nourishment, and the values that shaped me.

For 38 years, my mother endured unimaginable suffering and torment. It was only in July 2010 that our lives began to shift dramatically. I remember walking out of our home with the thrilling news of securing a job at PwC, a job that promised a salary that was merely a dream. Her astonishment and joy were palpable. “Really?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief and pride. That evening marked the beginning of a new chapter for us, a period of gradual improvement and transformation in our lives.

Yet, as I now grapple with the pain of her loss, the last 38 days of her life resonate with an almost unbearable intensity. Her final days were marked by immense suffering. On a ventilator, with her legs and hands restrained, her body was swelling and oozing—each detail of her condition a vivid reminder of her torment. Despite her excruciating suffering, she was more concerned about the expenses of her treatment than her own pain. Her selflessness in those moments was a profound lesson in compassion.

In reflecting on her life, I am struck by a series of poignant coincidences. I was born on a Friday, and she departed on a Friday. I came into this world on the 27th, and she left us on the 27th. These details, though small, seem to underscore the deep connection we shared.

In the end, I am left with a heart full of gratitude and sorrow, and a profound respect for the woman who, despite her own suffering, gave me everything.

Through everything, my mother taught me an invaluable lesson: Never lose hope. As long as there is life, there is hope. Her life was a testament to enduring strength and selfless love. The pain of losing her is immense, and the grief is profound, but the lessons she imparted continue to guide me. Her life was one of relentless courage, and her legacy is a beacon of hope that will forever light my path.