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    A Mother

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    evanoki

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    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
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    A Mother

    Uploaded by

    evanoki
    58 views2 pages

    Copyright

    © Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)

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    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    58 views2 pages

    A Mother

    Uploaded by

    evanoki

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as docx, pdf, or txt
    of 2

    A Mother’s Sacrifice

    Perhaps, of all the people in a person’s life, a mother holds a special place. It
    is she who brings her children into the world, teaches them their first words and
    moulds their character. My mother was such a wonderful mother. She was more
    than just an ordinary mother. Eversince my father was bound to a wheel chair as a
    result of injuries sustained in a motor accident, my mother had made so many
    sacrifices for us, even at the expense of her health.

    My mother had remained a housewife eversince her marriage to my father,


    an old-fashioned man who insisted that a woman’s place was always at home. But
    on the fateful day, when the doctors and staff at the intensive care unit of the
    University Hospital confirmed that my father would never be able to walk again,
    she knew what she had to do. Entrusting my father to the care of my grandmother
    while she was not at home, she took up a course in tailoring. After six months, she
    started sewing clothes for her neighbours and friends and earned a meager
    income. It was a hard life but she never complained.

    One incident that still remains vivid in my memory after all these years
    occurred on the eve of my thirteenth birthday. It was Sunday, July 9, 1991. My
    mother asked me what I wanted for my birthday.

    “A bicycle,” I answered. She raised her eyebrows.

    “A bicycle? I don't think we have enough money to buy a bicycle.” I could


    sense her sorrow as she spoke.
    “We always don't seem to have much money for anything. It’s so unfair. My
    friends have a bicycle each.”

    “Sometimes life is unfair. But we should never complain. Instead…” I did not
    stay to hear the rest. Her words drowned as I rushed to my room and slammed the
    door shut. I sulked the whole day. For no apparent reason I was angry with my
    mother and my father. I refused to come out from my room in spite of all their
    pleading. The rest of the day passed. When I woke up, the room was in complete
    darkness. I realized that I had fallen asleep. The whole house was quiet except for
    a continuous rattling noise. It was my mother’s sewing machine. Above the
    rattling, I heard my mother’s cough. My conscience pricked me but I decided
    against doing anything. When I woke up the next morning, she was still poring
    over the clothes, sewing buttons on them. Has she stayed up the whole night? I
    went to school as usual. When I returned home, my mother was waiting for me at
    the door. She held out her hand. “Happy Birthday,” she said. She pointed her
    finger to one corner of the room. There, in the corner, beside her sewing machine,
    stood the bicycle, all shining and new. I could not bring myself to talk. Instead,
    copious tears streamed down my cheeks and I was seized with sudden,
    uncontrollable sobs. How terribly selfish and inconsiderate I had been! There was
    a gentle pat on my shoulder. I turned to face my mother. Her loving arms locked
    me in a warm embrace as she gently rocked me.

    Even now, whenever I think about the incident, tears well up in my eyes. It
    was one of the many sacrifices my mother had made for me.

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