It is time for me to go, mother; I am going. When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you stretch out your arms for your baby in the bed, I shall say, “Baby is not here!”-mother, I am going.
I shall become a delicate draught of air and caress you and
I shall be ripples in the water when you bathe, and kiss you and kiss you again.
In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves you
will hear my whisper in your bed, and my laughter will flash with the lightning through the open window into your room.
If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the
night, I shall sing to you from the stars, “Sleep, mother, sleep.”
On the straying moonbeams I shall steal over your bed, and
lie upon your bosom while you sleep.
I shall become a dream, and through the little opening of your
eyelids I shall slip into the depths of your sleep; and when you
wake up and look round startled, like a twinkling firefly I shall
flit out into the darkness.
When, on the great festival of puja, the neighbours’ children
come and play about the house, I shall melt into the music of the flute and throb in your heart all day.
Dear auntie will come with puja-presents and will ask, “Where
is our baby, sister?” Mother, you will tell her softly, “He is in
the pupils of my eyes, he is in my body and in my soul.”
Prabhath's interpretation :
This poignant piece eloquently portrays the departure of the soul from the body. Through vivid imagery, the departed being is depicted as merging with elements of nature and whispering comfort to the mother in her solitude. It beautifully illustrates the enduring connection between consciousness and existence, suggesting that even beyond physical boundaries, the essence of the departed remains intertwined with the universe.
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