what the most important part of the body is

My mother used to ask me what the most important part of the body is.
Through the years I would take a guess at what I thought was the correct Answer.

When I was younger, I thought sound was very important to us as humans, so I said, 'My ears, Mommy.'

She said, 'No. Many people are deaf. But you keep thinking about it and I will ask you again soon.'

Several years passed before she asked me again. Since making my first attempt, I had contemplated the correct answer.

So this time I told her, 'Mommy, sight is very important to everybody, so it must be our eyes.'

She looked at me and told me, 'You are learning fast, but the answer is not correct because there are many people who are blind.'



Stumped again, I continued my quest for knowledge and over the years,

Mother asked me a couple more times and always her answer was, 'No. But you are getting smarter every year, my child.'



Then one year, my grandfather died. Everybody was hurt. Everybody was crying. Even my father cried.

I remember that especially because it was only the second time I saw him cry.



My Mom looked at me when it was our turn to say our final good-bye to my Grandfather.

She asked me, 'Do you know the most important body part yet, my dear?'

I was shocked when she asked me this now. I always thought this was a game between her and me.

She saw the confusion on my face and told me, 'This question is very important. It shows that you have really lived in your life. For every body part you gave me in the past, I have told you were wrong and I have given you an example why.


But today is the day you need to learn this important lesson.'

She looked down at me as only a mother can. I saw her eyes well up with tears. She said, 'My dear, the most important body part is your shoulder.'


I asked, 'Is it because it holds up my head?'


She replied, 'No, it is because it can hold the head of a friend or a loved one when they cry. Everybody needs a shoulder to cry on sometime
in life, my dear. I only hope that you have enough love and friends that you will always have a shoulder to cry on when you need it.'


Then and there I knew the most important body part is not a selfish one. It is made for others and not for yourself. It is sympathetic to the pain of others.

People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did . But people will NEVER forget how you made them feel.

Mother Hands

Few years back I have made a courtesy visit to my new friend, who was an Army Officer at Wellington, in Tamil Nadu .In the reception hall, I have seen a big photograph of a pair of "˜hands", which I presumed should be the "˜hands" of some "˜holy" person but did not enquire with any one about the photograph. After a brief discussion both of us have started for another work in my friend"s car. While traveling I have found the same photo of "˜hands" in the dash- board of the car. Now with a curiosity I have asked my friend about the "˜hands" in the photo.

Without answering me, my friend stopped his car well before our destination. After a while, he has requested me to take the photo and asked me to have a close look at it. I could able to see the "˜hands" closely and found it belongs to an old woman, with wrinkles in the long fingers, but clean and trimmed nails. I still was guessing that the "˜hands" should belong to some woman-saint .With a very big sigh my friend told me that the "˜hands" were belongs to his mother. With a shock I asked him why he has the photograph of her "˜hands" instead of her full image.


The Army Officer narrated further"¦"¦"¦"¦

These are the "˜hands" that have developed me, and these "˜hands" are always in my thoughts. I feel happier to see her "˜hands" than her face. I have taken this photograph just few hours before her death. These "˜hands" are no more existing in this world. These "˜hands" have developed the person, who is in front of you. To my knowledge my mother has never taken a rest.

My father, a drunkard last his life at the age of 32 leaving our family bankruptcy. We are three children and our uneducated mother was left alone. In a miserable situation, my mother was working as a maid in a doctor"s house. She used to do all trivial jobs in the house including, cleaning of house,utensils,dog care,wasing clothes etc"¦Also she was engaged in a couple of houses as a maid. It is a painful thought in me to guess about the thousands of utensils that were cleaned by these "˜hands" of my mother.

After coming home from her work she will cook for all of us and make all of us sleep, before she piles up water from the well. We all slept in the same kitchen room. Even in her sleep, her "˜hands" will move with out any purpose. While taking us to school, everyone will aspire to hold her "˜hands" resulting a competition among us.


To hold such "˜hands" I used to get faith that developed my confidence. Even during her small ailments, her "˜hands" used to rub her face to activate herself for the next job. It was through her "˜hands" we all have been brought-up. One day while working the doctor"s wife has beaten my mother as she has broken a pickle bottle. My mother never retaliates and kept silent. As I was watching this scene, my mother took me back home silently and showed her perseverance. She did not even cry for the situation. No "˜hands" have consoled my mother on that time. She did not have much faith in God, but has tremendous faith in her "˜hands" in bringing up her children. She does not care for anything except work, work"¦through her "˜hands".


In my younger days, I did not realize the importance of her "˜hands". Instead I have treated her badly on many occasions when my expectations were not met by her. But she has never been angry with me. During my college days, she was admitted in hospital for jaundice. It was that time we all have started understanding her value as mother. Then I have worked hard in my studies and joined in the Army. Step by step I have moved to a higher level in the Army. I took my mother with me wherever I was posted. She never asked any money from me. One day I have asked her to accompany me as I wish to buy her a pair of bangles for her worshipful "˜hands". She refused to have the bangle as she did not like to wear costly ornaments. Instead she made a request to get a watch for her, which she has missed in her "˜hard" days. According to her, her "˜inner-watch" always reminds her "˜go-go" attitude towards her work. After getting the watch from me, she has showed her "˜hands" to everyone with a joy.


After my posting at Delhi , I took my mother along with us. She was hospitalized for her heart ailment. During her resting period, I have asked her why she has tolerated all her sufferings with out sharing to all. She told immediately that she would not have brought all of us to a stage, if she has shared all her feelings that would have frustrated the developing minds. It is this moment that I have understood her true nature and took a photo of her "˜hands". These "˜hands" are no more with us, but these "˜hands" reminds my life journey through the safe "˜hands" of my proud mother. What more we can do for her, except this small gesture of keeping the photograph of her worshipful "˜hands"?

The narration of the Officer ends here as tears were rolling in his eyes.

Before we reach our destination, I do pray these "˜hands" in the photo, with a feeling that I have prayed for millions of such "˜hands" in our planet. These are the holy "˜hands" that did not expect anything, but they have embraced and comforted many human beings.

Some where I have read that "˜God has given the gap between our fingers, only to hold another "˜hands" in the journey of our life".

But we do not often understand this message. How is we going to repay these kind of debts to such worshipful "˜hands"?

The decision is ours"¦"¦..