Thanks to the media, the commercial giants have spent heavily on defining motherhood through their products. Biscuits, stationeries, soft drinks, online gift vendors have all rediscovered a sudden fondness for the entity called ‘Mother’. Business as usual. I have made no plans to present a gift. And yes it would be a worthwhile effort to take a shovel in hand and try to find the ‘paradise (that) lies under the Mother’s feet’. I only wish to please her in such a way that would make her raise her hands in dua for this offspring. Not that she requires gifts to do it. She has been doing the same for the past twenty years unconditionally. And will continue to do so . . . I would lobby my mother to ensure that she continues praying for me. I have heard that Creator hardly rejects a mother’s prayer for her child. God bless this ‘Treasure house of Affection’ whose love is beyond what I can describe. God bless her for helping me go on the tightrope walk of life. All my achievements may not be worth more than a heap of dust at her feet! To safeguard her offspring from ‘ego-desolating forces’, she embraces the sternness of thunder and the patience of Mother Earth. New forces of desolation calls for new ways of preservation. In an era where even the smile is ‘genetically engineered’ to fit the unfit times, even motherhood seems to have restricted itself in the narrow-sized columns of magazines or the promotional offers of the corporate entities. I can recall no other words to end this topic than the lines of Allama Iqbal, which he composed on the death of his mother : “Awaiting whom shall I reside in this land, Who will be sleepless now on the late arrival of my letter, Let my wailing reach the dust of her grave Whom will I remember in my Fajr prayer?”