Mother

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"For the hand that rocks the cradle

Is the hand that rules the world.

— Montgomery

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Equal love and equal blessing when they go together are called mother. Rabindranath's mother breathed her last when he was but a child. What an emotional thrill flashes across our mind when we read Tagore's recollection of his mother's love filled with blessing.

> When in later life, I wandered about like a madcap, at the first coming of spring, with a handful of half-blown jessamines tied in a corner of my muslin scarf, and as I stroked my forehead with the soft, rounded tapering buds, the touch of my mother's fingers would come back to me; and I clearly realised that the tenderness which dwelt in the tips of those lovely fingers was the same as that which blossoms every day in the purity of these jessamine buds; and that whether we know it or not, this tenderness is on the earth in boundless measure.

> — My Reminiscences

From:Sri Chinmoy,Mother India's Lighthouse: India's spiritual leaders, Rudolf Steiner Publications, 1971
Sourced from https://srichinmoylibrary.com/ils