Oh Mother, dear Mother,
You raised me from a piece of flesh
Into a woman of strength and responsibilities.
I was always your little princess,
And you, my Fairy Godmother.
Until I got married—
And you grew old.
The world played its clever game
In pulling us apart, inch by inch.
It seems we now need approvals,
Just to meet, just to sit beside each other.
Sometimes it’s my side of the family
That binds my choices in invisible chains,
And sometimes it’s your side,
From whom you must seek permission.
Your eyes light up when I walk in,
And my heart finds peace near you.
But the world does not like us together—
Not even for a fleeting moment.
I have to think a hundred times
Before I dare to visit you—
Because the house you live in
Is no longer ruled by you,
But managed by your son.
You are no longer the fierce woman
Who held us both with a strong hand.
You are fragile now—
Dependent, silent, soft.
And it is they who decide
If we meet or stay apart.
Marriage & old age makes a woman like the washerman’s dog — she belongs nowhere, neither here nor there.
A girl is born without a home,
And dies without one.
I wish I had never grown up,
And you had never grown old.
I wish there was no such thing as marriage—
That snatched us from each other’s world.
I wish I could come to you anytime,
With no questions asked, no permissions sought.
Just you and me,
Like always—
A mother, and her little girl.
