Moali Pongen
Dear Father! How are you? I hope you are good, wealthy and fine. First of all send my warm “Mother’s Day” wishes to your beloved wife “Life is short, treat her like a queen,” Lest you will drift away seeking another woman, if you displease her.
Now addressing you as a “Father” is less out of courtesy and more for not knowing your surname to address you as “Mr. So and So”. On this special day, I address this ugly, painful letter just to let you know about the existence of a woman, whom you impregnated and abandoned two decades ago.
21 years, I grew miserably life has been all but pain and hurdles. However, the woman I grew with, though suffered more than me, still taught me how to survive in good terms.
Mother. Woman. Pain. What do we talk about when I talk about Mother. On better yet as a Woman, what Kind of pain, she is familiar with? The Cramps? The Wounds? Or the pretty hurts when she is getting pressured against her body being fornicated by you….. Her beloved one? They say, writing is one way to exhaust your sufferings. My Words, I have nothing to sustain my inner thoughts, if not for this words, written with clouds of Cigarette smoke and a glass of whisky.
Most of the time, She managed to wear blinkers like a horse in harness, to sidetrack and blindside her nauseous existence. But with the darkness of the night, I saw mother penetrating her interior reality reminding herself the engraved scars of having being a love, illiterate woman betrayed by the man she loved the most, which till date bleeds my soul regardless of any tourniquet.
The day you left, the world turned blind towards her. She was underestimated at home and society, yet still remained calm and serene, taking the blame to her, while painting your mistake with a patina of her own moral value being kept at stake, and often questioned by humanity, only tagged at the end as an unfaithful obstinate woman.
Yes she was my mother, who despite the dismantle reputation still silently taught me how to love, forgive and be hopeful.
Though it has been a decade since she left me, her lesson on this three goals ring as a legacy, shaping the woman in me.
Love others as yourself, she often said, for everyone deserves love, no matter even if he is the most brutal criminal on earth.
Perhaps she said that because, she knew how it is to survive without love, a painful shackle existence.
Dear Father, Peace would have prevailed if everybody love others as our oneself.
Hope the only thing that keeps us going to that better unseen world and the only weapon, she survived with. Though she was betrayed by the man she loved, her daughter abandoned by the man she cared, with “Hope” she survived through the midst of the curse.
With hope blended with unshaken faith, the taught me to seek life through vain.
Nothing on the order of a stroll with a dear person not one hour of quiet and serene contemplation, all tainted by mundane worry and staleness. I guess that’s what a woman or less an orphan’s fate entails.
Dear Father, getting disemboweled and dismembered would have been a preference to the tortures, which I have not known laid waited for me, when ‘Mother’s” left. Life would have been another beautiful story if you had for once thought about the destruction you are doing to an innocent life before impregnating dear woman.
Sometimes she remained in the threshold of surreal brink of desperation with her tears at a blurred line for the love of her daughter and the life inside her which could have taken away despite the inhumanity shown to her. She turned a mute in the face of the menaces, sometime convincing herself it’s all a night mare, a seemingly unending bad dream, she never seem to wake up from.
But “Father, Mother has left already to an unseen peaceful world and without her; I am but a mere human existing without any priority. Without Mother Life is a dismantle, erratum of unorganized a posteriori.
Hard blows and stitches, I survived rights, when even the starry night seemed so cursed. When all I have is a door to my defense, isolating myself in a room. Missing Mother and her words. And her long forgotten miserable life, which at least for Heaven’s sake, she found peace, ultimate peace in her coffer. And for me “I stimulate the brain to suppress these memories. Sometimes I mimic and emulate the same people to keep my emotions at bay and act accordingly because I can no Longer retain peace and hope form my own, without the existence of a “Beloved Mother”……..
Perhaps you must be thinking, why such an indecent letter on this special day?? But “Father” I wrote this letter just to let you know that beside the daily mundane struggle of earthly mothers pains and cursed fate, like my own mother also ought to be celebrated……………… after all mothers of my kind also existed……… So Father’s allow me to send greeting to Woman like my Mother in this letter Carry on Woman!! For the love of God held’s you deep
With Agony Yours would have been Daughter
