Hearing the cawing of a crow
Perched upon the tree,
Grandmother called from the courtyard,
“Surely someone is coming home today.”
Though her body had grown weak,
Her vision had faded away,
Her desires to remain useful
Never diminished with age.
The children would lovingly say,
“Grandma, please just sit and rest.
Eat, sleep, and spend your days
Chanting the holy name of Lord Ram.”
She would gently smile and reply,
“Oh, my dear child,
My heart cannot remain idle.
I have always lived by doing something—
How can I simply sit still?”
“Let me help as much as I can.
Bring me the flour to knead,
Let me make some vermicelli
With these aging hands.”
Rolling cotton into wicks,
Twisting ropes, folding ribbons—
So many little tasks she found,
Never allowing herself to be idle.
Diligence flowed through her veins;
It was woven into her very being.
Whatever little she could still do,
She never left undone.
Whenever her daughter-in-law served her meal,
She gently guided her hand, saying,
“This is here, that is there,”
Helping her recognize everything through touch.
Bent with age, her eyes forever closed,
Her body frail, her skin weathered by time,
She sat upon a sack in the courtyard,
Surrounded by her simple belongings.
Enduring life’s countless storms,
Her body had become wrinkled and worn.
After bearing endless joys and sorrows,
She had reached the final chapter of life.
Yet her Jijivisha—
Her unwavering will to live—
Had not weakened in the least.
Whatever strength still remained within her,
She never allowed it to fade away.
For as long as even one limb could move, She chose purpose over helplessness, Work over idleness, And hope over surrender.
— Written by VIDYA
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