A shoulder

A shoulder
P K Routray

As to a query of my mummy
as to the most important part of a body,
I mused for a while,
“It is sound” I came out with a smile,
hence to me it was the ear
but my mummy did differ
“A deaf man lives a life of his own”
was the answer by her in a provoking tone.
Hence I had to ponder further
“It is sight” was my second answer
“No, not a blind lives a life with own pleasure.”
I wondered at her logic,
my answer from toe to finger did not click.
I was at a loss to meet her wit
“Not finding an answer” as my failure I did admit.
But she kept mum as if to keep the secret in hold.
My inquisitiveness to know the mystery increased many fold.
Once most unfortunately one of my poor friends lost his father,
it was all on a sudden, and to the poor family he was the sole bread earner.
We went to his burial with grief and tear
I saw his mother crying on my friend’s shoulder
When she saw us, she came to me and mother
on my shoulder she kept her head and could not stop her tear
While returning home from cremation ground,
the answer to my mother’s query I suddenly found.
It is the shoulder not for selfish use
but for others, needy and helpless for their pathos, to mitigate and diffuse.