I am forever indebted to my mother!
There are phrases that seem simple at first glance, yet carry within them entire worlds of meaning. One such phrase in Kashmiri is “Myeh chih chaeni lach baed ehssaan moujii” — “I am forever indebted to my mother.” It is a statement of gratitude, but more than that, it is a testimony of life itself. For me, this phrase is not abstract; it is lived truth. Every breath of mine carries the fragrance of my mother’s sacrifices, and every silence within me echoes with her absence.
When I was only eight, life struck me with its first and perhaps greatest tragedy, the loss of my father to a brain tumor. At an age when most children are shielded by both parents, I found myself under the sole protection of my mother. She was not a working woman, not trained in worldly battles, but she was a housewife with a spirit forged in patience and faith.
Overnight, she became both father and mother to us. I saw her trade her grief for resilience, her tears for courage. She guided our family through despair, shielding us from the harsh winds of life. Her hands bore the marks of toil, yet her words carried comfort. She gave up her own comforts so that her children would not feel the sharpness of loss.
Then came 2002, a year I can never erase from memory. My mother, my shield, my anchor, my very reason for hope, suddenly left this world. Her departure was like the extinguishing of the sun at midday: unexpected, unnatural, unbearable.
The silence of her absence was louder than any storm. For years afterward, sleep abandoned me. Nights turned into endless vigils, where memories replayed themselves like broken reels, and days became a performance of strength for the sake of my sisters. Inside, however, I was fractured. I lived three long years of near-sleeplessness, consumed by the hollowness her departure had carved into me.
It was not just the loss of a parent; it was the loss of the one person who had embodied both love and survival in my life.
Even today, more than two decades later, I live with the awareness that my life is stitched together with the threads my mother spun. Her love lives on in my values, in the way I raise my children, in the compassion I try to offer my students as a teacher and counselor.
But here lies the truth: a mother’s debt cannot be repaid. Success, wealth, or words can never measure up to what she gave. The only way to honor her is to live a life of dignity, kindness, and sincerity, to carry forward the light she once carried for me.
Though “Myeh chih chaeni lach baed ehssaan moujii” is a Kashmiri expression, it is also a universal reality. Across cultures and geographies, every human being shares this truth, that mothers give everything, often silently, and expect nothing in return. Their love is unconditional, their sacrifices invisible, and their departure leaves an emptiness that no force on earth can fill.
When I utter the words “Myeh chih chaeni lach baed ehssaan moujii”, I say them not only as a son grieving his mother’s absence, but also as a human acknowledging a universal truth. It is both a personal confession and a collective recognition: that we are all forever indebted to our mothers.
Her departure left scars, but her love left me strength. And perhaps, that is her final gift, that even in her absence, she continues to live within me, shaping the person I am and the person I strive to be.
