Photo Copyright Suresh Gundappa 2006
Note: I have been asked by several of my blogger friends to write something about motherhood. Obviously It is a difficult propositon for a man to write on the most creative act of nature. I have tried my best. On Thanks Giving day,This is my celebration of Motherhood.
When a mother is feeding her child, she is not only giving milk as was always thought. Now biologists have stumbled upon a deeper fact, and they say she is feeding energy — milk is just the physical part. And they have done many experiments: a child is raised, food is given — as perfect as possible, whatsoever medical science has found. Everything is given, but the child is not loved, not cuddled; the mother does not touch him. The milk is given through mechanical devices, injections are given, vitamins are given — everything is perfect. But the child stops growing, he starts shrinking, as if life starts moving away from him. What is happening? … Because whatsoever the mother was giving is being given.
It happened in Germany that during the war many small orphan babies were put into a hospital. Within weeks they were all almost dying. Half of them died — and every care was taken; scientifically they were absolutely right, they were doing whatsoever was needed. But why were these children dying? Then one psychoanalyst observed that they needed some cuddling, somebody to hug them, somebody to make them feel significant. Food is not food enough. ” Some inner food, some invisible food is needed. So the psychoanalyst made a rule that whosoever came into the room — a nurse, a doctor, a servant — had to give at least five minutes in the room to hug and play with the children. And suddenly they were not dying, they started growing. And since then many experiments have been done.
When a mother hugs a child, energy is flowing. That energy is invisible — we have called it love, warmth. Something is jumping from the mother to the child, and not only from the mother to the child, from the child to the mother also. That’s why a woman is never so beautiful as when she becomes a mother. Before, something is lacking, she is not complete, the circle is broken. Whenever a woman becomes a mother, the circle is complete. A grace comes to her as if from some unknown source. So not only is she feeding the child, the child is also feeding the mother. They are happily ‘into’ each other. And there is no other relationship which is so close. Even lovers are not so close, because the child comes from the mother, from her very blood, her flesh and bones; the child is just an extension of her being. Never again will this happen, because nobody can be so close. A lover can be near your heart, but the child has lived inside the heart. The mother’s heart has been beating, and that was the heartbeat of the child, he had no other heart; the mother’s blood circulated in him, he had no independence, he was just part of her. For nine months he remained as part of the mother, organically joined, one. The mother’s life was his life, the mother’s death would have been his death. Even afterwards it goes on: a transfer of energy, a communication of energy exists
Love and lots of it dear ones