Bring My Mom Back

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Raziuddin Syed

A prolific writer on Islamic history, women's issues, prophecies of the last Prophet (sa) and dominating religions, Raziuddin Syed worked as a finance and admin manager in various industrial units for 20 years. He now runs a research academy titled National Academy of Islamic Research, based in Clifton, Karachi. He is the author and translator of 18 books on the above subjects, some having up to five editions. He has also casually appeared on television channels. He can be contacted at

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missing_silhouetteI am a ten year old helpless and poor girl; a girl who has no mother. But sometime back I too had a mother, in whose lap I used to sleep and whose face I used to kiss. Though I was of a pervasive nature, yet my mom liked me the most. I was her sweet kid and never thought of parting away from her any day, any time. My mom was ever ready to change my dress, sleep beside me, and comb my hair. I resembled her completely: the same cleverness, the same prettiness, the same smartness and the same joyfulness!

You cannot evaluate the merriment and joy we shared with each other. She bought me all the nice items that I would desire—the finest dresses, the shining shoes and a heap of precious toys. Do you know why? I tell you. All was done because of her utmost affection for me. She always treated me as her darling. She received strength from me, and I received strength from her.  As a matter of fact, I was “she” and she was “I”. Whenever I used to call her ‘Mom, Mom’, she felt a sort of pride, as if she had won the whole world.

But alas, all these realities have diminished into the stories of the past! She is no more with me. Anonymous, stone-hearted people have snatched my mother. Mom is nowhere around me! I have been forcibly deprived of her. A faded image flashes in my mind every now and then, my mother hugging and kissing me. My poor mom! It is a story, an incident that took place nine years ago, when I was barely two years old.

But Alhamdulillah, I have attained the age of eleven now. During these painful years, I have remained all aloof; unaware of my mother’s where about. I know for sure that she too would have been crying for me, “Sunny, Sunny, where are you? I am missing you badly!” People state that the snatchers of your mother are heartless, merciless and faithless. They only recognize dollars! So they will neither pay attention to your tender voice, nor the screaming of your mom. Uncle, please, let me know if all what people say is true.

Kindly inform the snatchers of my mummy that her dearest daughter is waiting for her, as my mother too will not be at peace with them!

Years upon years have passed but my mother is still absconding. I have failed to locate her up till now and none is there to help me out. Whom should I call my mom now, as none fits into my mom’s compassionate figure? Years have elapsed, I have not slept in her lap, and I miss her cooked meals. How tasteful are the meals that are cooked by the mothers and offered to their daughters by their own hands!  Sweet, delicious, aromatic and appetizing!

How sweet it sounds when some daughter calls out, “Mummy, mummy”. And at that very juncture, I ask myself, “To whom should I award with this sweet title, as I have no mother around; quite oblivious of the fact, as to how had she been lifted by the Great Powers as the people speak of ?

Do you mean to say that she had left the house, because she had found herself unhappy with me? Nay, she had never remained unpleased with me, always calling me as “My little pretty toy”!  I do not remember if she had ever scolded or slapped me. Once I got frightened in the night all of a sudden because of some horrible dream. I was in a tender age then. And my mummy rushed to me, embraced me, and solaced me spoiling her entire sleep all the night long. How can I explain to you, how intensely she loved me, dear Auntie!

We have searched for her a lot; every room, every corner, every office, and every street. But to no avail. Everyone tries to console me explaining that my mother had been picked up by a mighty power. I ask you one thing sir:  Should anyone kidnap someone’s mom and leave the kids astray? Kindly tell me honestly if all that was just no matter who had done that. Do they hate the tiny, rosy and sweet daughters of Pakistan? Daughters who are a true replica of their mothers-   smart and happy!

How disappointed I feel when I find the girls of my age playing, running, gossiping and shopping with their affectionate mothers! But since I have no mother, I remain aloof the entire day. Who can accompany me in my games and shopping then?

Why doesn’t anyone make any effort to bring my mom back? Don’t you realize how sad I have gone without her? Only yester night my mummy appeared in my dream and wept bitterly before me. But still consoled me promising her safe return soon and a rejoicing again.  And then all of a sudden she disappeared. That night got very heavy for me. I still need her shadow, her lap, and her sweet words.

We have searched for her a lot; every room, every corner, every office, and every street. But to no avail. Everyone tries to console me explaining that my mother had been picked up by a mighty power.

You see that I have no father even. He had parted away from my mummy long time ago. I am therefore a girl without any dad and without any mom- a fragile girl! Can you assess my sentiments then, dear Auntie? Can anyone of you provide me with her where-about? I know that she would also be fainting, crying and running all the time from one pillar to the other with the desire to embrace me. But all her efforts go fruitless. I know that she would be hungry too because she preferred to dine with me always.  How would she be eating without me these days, many a times I question myself?

Do the concerned authorities have no hearts? Doesn’t their heart palpitate with their daughter’s love? Don’t their eyes shed tears upon someone’s agonies?

My handicapped old grandma laments over the situation stating that she has become worn out now after running pillar to post to locate her daughter.  Which office-door is that, that she had not knocked and which personality is there that she had not met in order to appeal for her daughter’s secure return. But you know that all our efforts have resulted in vain! And now consequently, she has fallen sick. Tears never stop from my grandma’s eyes whenever she recollects her memories. And when does she not recollect her memories!

Yes, I too weep bitterly for her. We both shed tears each time when we peep together from the doors hoping to greet my mom Aafia but we find Aafia nowhere. Whenever I am awarded for any of my school’s success, I do not know why tears commence from my eyes. I get extremely emotional and impatient to show my award to someone – but to whom? There is no one to appreciate me. Sometimes I get filled with some vague questions such as ‘Who is there to buck up me? Who will embrace me out of love? Some inner voice assures me that  some year, some  month, some  day, your  mother will definitely be sitting next to you;  describing all the tortures that had been exercised over her. O Allah (swt) what an unending period of sheer disappointment am I facing without her!

We both shed tears each time when we peep together from the doors hoping to greet my mom Aafia but we find Aafia nowhere.

My sweet mummy, please do return now. You see how darkness has engulfed all of us. Mummy I have gone weary. I have gone tired. I have gone hopeless. What a loneliness I feel without thee O Mom! Or else summon me as well to the place where you have been confined; in absolute solitary and where there is no facility awarded  to you. I will sit beside you, solace you, and share your sorrows, emotions and ailments. Then you will feel no loneliness, no sickness, as I will be there to chat and help you out my dear mother.

You are the most courageous fighter, the greatest and the most daring lady, my dear sweet mom. Look! How unanimously the entire nation is paying tribute to you.

I again appeal to those who have my mother with them to have mercy on me and bring my mom back .

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