MY exceptional mother, Mrs. Hansrajie (Baby) Balchan-Persaud, walked away from an abusive marriage to a wealthy husband to bring up her nine children and others she adopted, single-handedly.

She baked and sold pastries and cakes 24 x 7, and gave away a large portion every day to mothers who could not afford to give their children a treat, especially during out-of-crop season.
She was the epitome of grace, kindness, morality, honesty and beauty in all its facets. My beloved mom died May 6 twenty years ago, and in observance  of her death anniversary, I’d like to celebrate her life with this poem I wrote while spending  a couple of days at the home of my sister, Jean Tahal.

Dear mommy
You were a living legend
Of rectitude and dignity
You eschewed existence living high-end
For a life of direst poverty

But oh, what riches you bequeathed
To your children and your grands
Until the last breath that you breathed
You were love and compassion

Gentle as the legendary dove
Extended care to everyone
No limit to your enduring love
You reached out with help to anyone

Truth, ethics and integrity
Hallmarked your mortal portrait
You epitomized morality
Spiritual grace your high estate

A woman of worth who courageously
Rejected luxury with abuse
Chose hard work, sacrifice, poverty
Without apology or excuse

To supplicants you reached out with grace
Be it man, woman, or child
You helped all with your endearing ways
Even creatures of the wild

No words of castigation passed your lips
Just gentle adjuration
No rods for us, no corrective whips
Mere words of gentle wisdom

Instilled in sons and daughters all
Your grandchildren values wise
To rise up and walk after each fall
To truth no compromise

Solace of night’s sleep you forswore
Not enough hours in the day
Poverty with dignified grace you wore
As you charted our pathway

Material things we lived without
But we could not complain
Because we chose, without a doubt
To treat luxury with disdain

At our mother’s feet we found heaven
Matchless wealth in her embrace
Her loving heart was our haven
Her gentle smile our solace

She bequeathed to us not things of earth
Values and sentiments her treasures
Immeasurable wealth of priceless worth
Not gauged by earthly measures

You succumbed to your mortality
Leaving us all forlorn
But you glissade in our memory
As an enduring song

A woman of substance achieved moksha
Now resides with her Ramaji
I know my mom found nirvana
Refuge in abode of shivaji