I used to see her everyday on my way to work. Sitting calmly, collecting dried leaves or cooking food, she was always engaged in some activity. My heart seethed looking at her condition but I felt helpless. I had moved to Chennai about two years ago. It was after a few encounters that she started to acknowledge me. Whenever our eyes met, she smiled and I smiled back.

I am not from Chennai and didn't know Tamil, and I was sure she didn't know any other language, so I never even tried striking a conversation. Her sullen expression sometimes made me yearn to talk but the language barrier always stopped me. And my quest to know about her continued.

One day, there was a ceremony in a nearby villa and while passing through the street in the evening, I saw her dressed, unlike her usual plain drapes. I was feeling happy that she will be well fed today. Next day I realised she had actually moved into the villa. It seemed strange why someone would let an unknown lady stay in their house. Curious, I contacted one of my neighbours and found out that the villa was her own, built by her husband, who died some years ago. Now, everything started falling into perspective. Her son now lived in the villa and threw the lady out of the house after she had a heated argument with his wife. Thereafter, she started living in a temple.

That is when I got to know that she was dressed for her grandson's wedding and was allowed to stay in a small room by the side, which also housed the water pump. I anyhow felt happy that she was staying close to the family.

After that I didn't see her, until one day. She was standing outside the villa, shouting and abusing his son and daughter-in-law. She looked at me crossing the road but I slowly moved my way, pretending I didn't notice. The next day, I saw her again in that temple, cooking something for her. She looked at me with sad eyes, but I went on just like the last time.

Today I saw the lady grieving inconsolably. Shouting and cursing in her language. Having spent some time in Chennai, I was getting a little familiar with the language and so I could make out that she was cursing God by saying, I am too old and am still on this earth and you have taken my young son in front of me. I caught a glance inside the villa, just to see a dead body on the floor, surrounded by people. The dead body was of her son who had abandoned her to live a miserable lonely life. Yet, the mother was grieving for her dead son. What I saw today was a kind of paradigm shift for me.

Someone rightly said, Children can be human or demon but mothers are always the purest form of God.

BDST: 1735 HRS, MAR 18, 2015