Chapter 3

 She wasn’t ready — none of us were.

Ma came from a quiet village with a softer pace, softer dreams, and maybe a softer heart. But that morning when Baba didn’t return... something inside her changed. She cried, yes. Loud and uncontrolled. But somewhere in that ocean of grief, she began stitching herself back together — not for her, but for us.

She wasn’t educated much. Didn’t have polished words or plans. But she had a spine made of quiet steel and hands that fed, held, and healed. She cooked when her heart refused to eat. She sat with us during exams when she had no idea what the syllabus meant. She never said the right things — but she always stayed.

Even now, decades later, I don’t remember what she said in our hardest moments. I remember only that she was there.

This poem — I don’t know when I wrote it. Maybe on a day I missed her more than usual. Maybe today.

She put her to test...

She could pull, but she rather failed...

She prayed for you —

For that was all she could do…

She isn't skilled —

Not as polished as you...

Enveloped by her divinity, safe you are.

For whatever she could do,

She did that and a half...

She fought with destiny largely head on,

Making peace with life so it just goes on...

Scarred by the circumstances was her soul,

But that was her team — and nothing else whole...

The tears in her eyes could never see the drought,

She couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat...

Jostling through her smiles, the pain takes the edge.

God… how helpless she is, standing at this ledge...

Being a single mom, she took double the pain.

She deserves double the happiness,

Though that may still be no r

eal gain.

— Amita Joshi

Tara’s Reflection:

I read this poem again and again.

I don’t know Arundhati’s mother.

But I do.

I’ve seen her in my neighborhood, in the corner of bus stops, in the teachers who stay late after class, in the woman next door who never complains.

This poem doesn’t just speak of a mother.

It speaks of every woman who held up the sky with shaking hands, and didn’t let it fall.

And perhaps, in this chapter, I finally understand what "divinity in human form" truly looks like.

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