Letter from my mother
Is it a mistake to be born? When I was a child, my mother always used her artistic talent to design patterns on fabric and clothes. She was always wearing beautiful fabrics: silk, tissue, satin, brocade, and chiffon. The cloth, the pattern, the scissors and the sewing machine. But now my mother doesn't use the sewing machine. When I was only eighteen, my mother collapsed with one arm and leg paralysed. She also lost her speech. I went abroad again to attend Graduate School at the university. My mother did not get married because she wanted to. She married because in the Indian culture the parents wanted her to get married. My mother doesn't sing to me anymore, "The sky is blue, the air is silent, and there's a summer dance in the wind." My mother cannot speak clearly anymore. My mother cannot hold a needle and make decorations or embroidery with the bright sequins. My mother doesn't wear the magnificent clothes and she cannot feel the wonderful texture of the fabrics. She stays in the estate, at her father's home. My mother doesn't talk. My mother doesn't design clothes. She doesn't sew anymore. I wrote letters to my mother. But she cannot write back to me. So I asked grandmother to tell her to try to write with her left hand. My mother wrote a letter to me. It had ten sentences. The handwriting was broken like the handwriting of a child. She wrote "I miss you, sometimes I sit on your bed and I cry. I'm trying to plant vegetables in a garden. I'm so glad you graduated."
If the people in eastern society believed in overcoming stress and visiting a counsellor or a psychologist, I think people would have peace and mental health.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel.