The seventh-grade students eagerly lined up outside the Principal’s office to hand in their creations for Mother’s Day.
The kind middle-aged Principal, encouraged all students to either create a drawing or write a few lines of prose or poetry in honour of their mothers.
Each student held a piece of paper. After collecting the sheets, the Principal instructed them to gather in the hall for the results announcement in thirty minutes.
Vanita’s forehead creased as she made a face, noticing the black paint smudged on her classmate, Veena’s fingers. “What’s all that black stuff?” she asked. “Oh, it’s just black paint! Did you draw your mom with black ink?” Vanita added, laughing aloud.
Veena calmly nodded in response, which only made her classmates giggle more. “Is your mother that dark, unlike my mother, who is as fair as Snow White?” Geeta closed her mouth, unable to suppress a giggle. However, Veena remained unperturbed.
The chatter quieted as the Principal entered with the submissions.
“Everyone has beautifully expressed their perspectives on their mothers. I’ll read some of the exemplary pieces and showcase the artwork on the power screen soon,” she announced.
The Principal began to read some of the poems aloud. The students nodded in appreciation and patted their classmates whose works were being highlighted. After some prose pieces were shared, it was time to display the artwork.
“Only five students submitted drawings, but Veena Naik’s piece stood out and won the first prize. This award reflects both the drawing and the accompanying explanation,” The Principal declared while the staff members applauded with thunderous claps.
The students held their breath as the Principal revealed Veena’s artwork: a dark silhouette of a figure holding a rifle, likely in uniform, but the hairstyle suggested it was a woman walking on rough ground.
“Is your mom a soldier or something?” Nidhi burst into laughter while others frowned, puzzled about why this drawing had claimed first place.
The Principal steadied her voice, filled with emotion, and read Veena’s write-up.
“My mother embodies strength and determination,” she started, prompting murmurs among the girls. The Principal urged them to remain silent and continued.
“My father was a soldier stationed at the borders and was away when I was just seven. My mother raised me single-handedly, filling my life with tales of my father’s bravery. She skilfully hid her own emotions behind a warm smile, ensuring I never felt the sting of my father’s absence.” The Principal paused for a moment.
“And then my father passed away, yet my mother never shed a tear in front of me. The world honoured my father as a martyr. While I never doubted his credentials, to me, my mother is the bravest soldier, battling her emotions tirelessly for my sake. If my father defended our nation, my mother protects me with her love. I love you, Mom; on this Mother’s Day, I want you to know that I wish to be your daughter in all my lifetimes.”
The students sat transfixed!
DISCLAIMER: ALL NAMES AND CHARACTERS USED IN THE STORY ARE FICTITUOUS. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANYONE, LIVING OR DEAD, IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL AND UNINTENDED.
