29.Mother’s Prashad

Was it fancy or illusion?
Was it a dream or suggestion?
Something looked as if
It was wrapped in a shrouding haze,
Placed in a magical realm of
A mysterious superior dimension,
Far beyond the thinking power or
The mental scale of comprehension.

The greatest grand master of leela
Unfolded his own resourcefulness
With the excellent and ingenious expression
Of a lovely children’s story, performed
By children in a children’s world.

Like already grown children,
We came together like plots
And deliberated what had to be done.

Secretly we decided as one,
To make a beautiful cake,
As a surprise and a gift for Mother
Who is so loving and sweet
Showing so much affection,
To all of us without any exception.

Thus Mother’s kitchen became forbidden
Territory to our servant-maid.
Nobody was allowed to come in.
No consent, not even for Mother.

We charged our older brother,
With his inseparable fast moving mouse,
To take the impeccable guard
On the threshold of Mother’s chambers.

We wrapped ourselves in mystery
And closed the door carefully.
Children’s prattle and children’s fun,
Resounded in Mother’s kitchen
And as loud outside the kitchen.

Many diligent little hands
Set in together the big job:
How it worked, nobody knows.

Likewise no one was worried,
But what we tried to form
With our little hands got a shape.
It did not happen without any pain.

Many deep sighs were audible,
Sometimes a squabble, a noise, a tear,
Which went away very fast.
The joy and love dominated all.

Mother’s cake was made of
Three step-by-step layers.
Each layer with various decorations
And on top were written the words
“For Mother”
In a beautiful alphabetical writing.

From where came the inspiration
In those toil and moil children’s’ heads?
From where came the cleverness
In those small fast working children’s hands?
We were stupefied by the result.

Little things please little minds.
We saw only through children’s eyes,
Who only tried to please their “Mother”,
Through and with the heart.
And as we bawled with contentedness and fun,
It resounded in the whole house.

Suddenly every sound was hushed.
What still could be heard, was
Something between a giggle and a whisper.

We very softly and prudently
Opened the carefully closed door.
We left the kitchen as it was:
The sight of it was not to bear.

Cheerfully and with an utmost happy mood,
With quick and hobbling steps,
All nearly stumbling over each other’s feet,
Our little hearts were excited.
With pride, gladness and satisfaction
Our hearts leapt up with joy and pleasure.

All the children went together,
Carrying between us our secret
To the abode of the One
Who was so dear to us: “Our Mother”.

And there appeared our guard,
Our older brother and protector
Nobody could by any chance, come in,
During our busy occupations in the kitchen.

But He felt a little hurt.
Why had it taken so much time?
And he was all the time waiting.

But at the sight of our cake,
His eyes fell open with astonishment
And when he heard that, as a reward,
He would be the first to taste the cake,
He was extremely happy and thankful.

And more, he, as the first born was allowed
To inform Mother of our coming.
Tears welled up in His Wonderful Eyes.
Like a flash of lightening.
He sped away on His mouse.

A little bit later, together we crossed
The threshold to Mother’s chambers.
This threshold that She set foot on
And touched so many times.
Hastily and stumbling loudly,
We went into Mother’s sitting room
And placed our gentle secret
In front of our Beloved Mother.

We threw ourselves down before Her.
Was there was a look of inquiry
In our radiant children’s eyes?
The all-seeing Mother observed it.

But Mother went on playing the play,
In Her own unsurpassed style,
As if She was unknowing.

And was heartily pleased and delighted.
Then came what we so longed for.
It was the tradition and very common.
According to age we came forwards
And respectfully touched Mother’s Feet.

With Her Motherly soft Hands,
She sweetly tapped our backs.
With Her supple fingers,
She caressed our hair and head.
For all, “Mother” had friendly
Cheerful and loving words,
Flowing to the deepest of our hearts
Like sweet blissful honey,
Stimulating the Holy fire in us.
Fortunately, heavenly, lovably.

Mother took a part of the cake
And spoke these beneficial words:
“Take what is left as prashad,
Distribute it to all until the last morsel”.

The decorated curtain came down
And hid all that had happened,
Blotted out everything to the last trace
And what remained faded like the dew
In the first rays of the sunrise.

Was it fancy or illusion?
Was it a dream or suggestion?
What was it?
What had it been?

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029 – Belapur, India 27-02-2001.