To the mother
Who has always been there
When father was nowhere seen
Busy in his alcoholic trips
Or flying on egotistical winds

To the mother
Abused and hurt all the time
By the very people she called her own
And though burdened by unending chores
For us she always had a smile

To the mother
Who never let us down
Hid her tears when, she had been down
And came to our rescue, whenever we cried
For needless frivolous things

To the mother
Who was burning alive
From tortures of an offensive mind
Sadistic and always inflicting pain
On her doomed pathetic existence.

To the mother
Who sacrificed all her life
Accepted her destiny with a straight face.
But never, let her children suffer
At the cruel hands of fate

To the mother
When I look back at all those days
I Remember a lot many things
The earthy dishes you cooked for us
And our magically, washed and ironed clothes.