Today on Mother’s Day I also want to salute those mother’s who received hater and pain from their own children.
I am sharing a clip , It is Punjabi Poem but I am trying to translate it in English. I am translating the whole clip with the introduction and then the poem.
This poem indicates the darkest part of our society where children don’t respect their parents, they even beat their mothers because mothers are weak, or this is better to say that mothers love doesn’t allow them to harm their children back.
Their are so many heart breaking stories which can fill your eyes with tears, tare your heart apart and leave the question , How can a child turned into evil for his mother ?
Here you go. Please read, listen and watch the clip.
This poem is the real story. It took me 10 years to complete this poem; I was in Pindi City one night when this poem itself awakes me and bring the completeness with itself, this poem brings all the words with it suddenly. I waked up and completed this.
This is a real story it was a poem about 2 boys Bashir and Akram living in a village and one day they reached their school very late and their Munshee( Class Master) asked Bashir why are you late? And today I am accepting that master was me, Myself Anwar Masood.
The poem goes like this….
Master asked Bashir
Oh Bashir, Why are you late?
Your village is not so far from school
I will beat you, why you are late even 2 periods had been passed
Bashir said, Master, listen to me please before punishing me
Akram has done something really bad,
He beats his mother now and then
Today he beated her so badly and so madly
Even the madani (The wooden grinder used to make Ghee) has broken
Everyone has gathered in his home
When he took his books and ran to school to save him
His mother came to our home
With bruised and swelled face
Tears full of eyes
Shivering lips with broken words
My son Bashir
Do me a favor please
Dear son.. Please take Akram’s lunch with you to school
Today he is again angry with me
He went to school hungry
I make parathas and halwa (sweet) for him
He must be hungry; he must be dying of hunger
Please my son; take Akram’s lunch with you
His mother was saying again and again,
Oh Bashir please hurry up, hurry up,
My son Akram is hungry
And Bashir ended like
Oh Master, Akram has raised hell.