The mother-child relationship is something that words cannot express. Read this beautiful poem where the poet expresses a little child’s affection for his mother.

Supposing I became a champak flower, just for fun, and grew on a branch high up that tree, and shook in the wind with laughter and danced upon the newly budded leaves, would you know me mother?

You would call, “Baby, where are you?” and I should laugh to myself and keep quite quiet.

I should slyly open my petals and watch you at your work.


When after your bath with wet hair spread on your shoulders, you walk through the shadow of the champak tree to the little court where you say your prayers, you would notice the scent of the flower, but not know it came from me.

When after the midday meal you sat at the window reading the Ramayana, and the tree’s shadow fell over your hair and your lap, I should fling my tiny shadow on to the page of your book, just where you were reading.

But would you guess that it was the shadow of your little child?

When in the evening you went to the cowshed with the lighted lamp in your hand, I should suddenly drop to the Earth again and be your own baby once more, and beg you to tell me a story.


“Where have you been, you naughty child?’

“I won’t tell you, mother.” That’s what you and I would say then.

By Rabindranath Tagore