In a world where shadows often play, A single act can light the way. A gentle touch, a tender smile, Can make a moment truly worthwhile.
When hearts are heavy, spirits low, Kind words can cause a seed to grow. A helping hand, a listening ear, Can wipe away a silent tear.
In every life, a chance to give, A way to show how hearts can live. Through simple deeds and caring eyes, We find the strength to rise and rise.
Kindness, like a gentle rain, Falls softly, easing every pain. It blooms in places dark and drear, And whispers, “I am always near.”
A world that’s kind is one that’s bright, Where every soul can share the light. For kindness echoes, never ends, It binds us all as loving friends.
So spread it wide, and let it be, A beacon for humanity. In every heart, in every land, Let kindness take us by the hand.
Nargiza Farxod qizi Xusanova was born on November 30, 2003, in Khatirchi district, Navoi region. She graduated from the Khatirchi district general secondary school №78, Navoi region. Currently, she is a 3rd year student at Bukhara State Pedagogical Institute. She is a winner of the “Student of the Year” competition, taking 23rd place among all universities. In 2024, she authored a monograph on the topic of “Determining the Stable DC Bridge”. She is currently working as a coordinator of the “Mushoira Club” at the institute. Nargiza is also the coordinator of the Student Girls Committee of the Bukhara State Pedagogical Institute Youth Union, the coordinator of the “Girls’ Voice” Bukhara City Sport and Health direction, and the coordinator of the Young Politician Girls Club at the Institute. She is an active member of the Bukhara City Youth Wing of the “O’zliDep” organization.
No matter the language, when I say “mother,” a vision of a pure angel comes to mind. In children’s upbringing, the mother’s role is paramount. A mother can take on the role of a father too, which is perhaps why paradise is said to lie beneath mothers’ feet. A mother is a noble being who sacrifices her life for us without asking for anything in return. Even in tales, when asked who should be pleased first, the answer is the mother, with the father mentioned third. A mother’s love, her embraces, and her radiant face are like the sun, her magical hugs are given without any expectation. I love my mother just as she is. My mother is unlike any other in the world. I can’t compare or describe my mother to anyone or anything. For me, she is unique; she is Mother.
You know, a mother raises her child with such upbringing, nurturing them to be knowledgeable and well-mannered. This is primarily due to the mother. If every woman and girl is educated and becomes knowledgeable, it benefits the entire nation and ensures their children are also educated, develop, and see the world. Mothers are extraordinary beings, with pure and radiant faces, which is why they are called “heavenly jasmine” and “angels of paradise.”
Mothers have a unique feeling that no one else has, the feeling of motherhood. Even when their child has grown up, to a mother, the child always seems small. She advises, “Be careful,” and prays with open palms, “Oh Allah, please protect my beloved child.” Even if we unintentionally speak harshly, a mother remains silent, swallowing her pain and wiping her tears with her scarf. Despite this, she still worries and cares for her child. A mother is incredibly strong and patient. She raises her children, ensuring they become scholars without letting them toil in the fields. A mother’s prayer is a miracle; only she can perform this miracle. Do you know? Many mothers lie, saying, “My child, I’m fine. Yes, I have everything. Don’t worry, I haven’t struggled; my stomach is full; I’m fine,” to soothe their child’s heart. Yet, the child senses something is wrong, abandons everything, and goes to see their mother, receiving her prayers. Such children are the happiest because their mother is alive, and they always receive her blessings.
You may have respected friends, partners, many employees, cars, wealth, and a house, but if you don’t visit your mother and receive her blessings, what kind of child are you?! Mother, I have shared my thoughts with you, but I have never asked how you feel. I have been too busy with my own affairs and friends to have a conversation with you. Please forgive your daughter who has begrudged you for even two minutes while talking to friends for hours! If you said something, I would respond, “Mom, I’m not a child,” hurting your feelings. Forgive your daughter who has grown up but still needs your love.
A mother always helps others, with a pure heart and a kind soul. However, a mother also wants to share her pain with a close child, to talk, to spend time together, to eat together, to go on a trip together. In a family, a mother and father might love a child differently, often spoiling them more. For example, in families, the youngest children or the only son or daughter might be spoiled. However, the eldest child usually carries more responsibility. As the youngest in my family, my parents’ love for me was different. A mother is the only being on Earth who embodies the love we see and feel.
I read an interesting story about Thomas Edison and his mother. When moving to his new home, Thomas carefully inspected every inch of his childhood home and asked the servants to carefully load the belongings into the truck. From the top of the closet where his childhood clothes were stored, he found his mother’s favorite red-covered suitcase. Thomas carefully placed it on the table and opened it. Among his mother’s belongings, he found a yellowing paper. This letter, signed by his teacher, reminded him of a memory involving his mother. At that time, Thomas was in first grade. That day, he brought home a letter from his teacher, who had instructed him to give it to his mother. Tears welled up in his mother’s sorrowful eyes as she read the letter, then she hugged her son. “What did my teacher write?” the curious boy asked his mother. “She wrote that you are extremely capable and that this school is not suitable for you, so she asked me to transfer you to a prestigious school,” his mother replied, trying to smile.
Thomas read the timeworn letter found in the suitcase and was astonished. It said, “Your son is mentally ill. Please enroll him in a specialized school.” Signed by the teacher. This story shows that every mother is her child’s hero. A mother always wants her child to be happy. The nights spent without sleep, nurturing and raising the child, are all due to the mother’s efforts. A child can never repay the debt to their mother. Only a mother can make life feel different. When a child doesn’t want to talk to anyone else, they can talk to their mother for hours because she understands them. Mothers deserve to be happy! The feeling of missing a mother is well-known to children living far from their mothers. Even if she is not with me, I remember her words and miss her love. I love you very much, mother. They say that the gates of paradise are open to parents who educate three daughters. Educating one daughter is like educating the entire nation. Mother, I owe you everything, and no matter how many times I say thank you, I can never repay this debt.
In the book about the mothers of great scholars, it is mentioned that the mothers of these scholars, even after the fathers’ death, took care of both financial support and the upbringing of their children. As a result of years of hardship, Imam Ahmad, Imam Bukhari, and many other great individuals emerged. This book tells the stories of how these noble individuals’ mothers raised their children. In a family, the mother’s unique role cannot be replaced by anything else. Every mother should spend her time and efforts raising her children to be great individuals for the future. The great Uzbek poet Abdurauf Fitrat emphasized the importance of family in the development of society and the prosperity of the nation in his work “Family.” He stated that the happiness and honor of every nation depend on the internal discipline and harmony of its people. Wherever family relations are strong, the country and the nation are equally strong and magnificent. Therefore, family tranquility is linked to maternal upbringing. Alisher Navoi, another great poet, emphasized that respecting parents is a form of upbringing. He said, “Sacrifice your head for your father, and give your entire body for your mother’s head. If you want both of your worlds to be prosperous, obtain the satisfaction of these two people. Consider one as the moon and the other as the sun, lighting up your day and night.” A child’s growth into a healthy, knowledgeable, and courageous person depends on the family environment and the mother’s influence.
Mother! A mother in the world makes life different. Her warmth and love make life special. Even if I reach ninety or a hundred years, living in a world with a mother is different. Mothers live thinking about their children, praying day and night for their happiness. Those without mothers cannot stop crying. Having a mother in life makes everything different. Having a mother by your side is different.
As I read this poem, I realized that a mother’s prayer is always accepted. A mother is unique and cannot be compared to anyone else. There are different kinds of children; some are indifferent to their mothers, some carry their mothers on their heads and receive their blessings, while some long for a mother’s love. So always remember, you grew up knowledgeable and well-mannered because of your mother. A mother’s love never fades. It shines like the sun, always radiating light. Thanks to such wonderful women, mothers, and daughters, life is even more beautiful.
In conclusion, wealth, friends, and success can be found, but if you hurt your mother’s heart and cannot give her love, what kind of child are you? A mother thinks of you while not eating herself. Go visit your parents, bring them two pieces of bread, and see how happy your mother will be. You will understand the sleepless nights and the difficulties your mother faced only when you become a mother yourself. You will realize how important a child is and how much you need their love. Never sigh or get angry at them; you will regret it when you grow up. The first place of education is the family. A child learns everything from their mother first. A mother’s upbringing is crucial for every child, especially for daughters. A mother’s love, her advice, and upbringing are vital in the family.
Amanbayeva Dinora Botirbek qizi resides in Gurlan district, Xorazm region. Her creative works have been published in Alanya, Turkey, and in a Moldovan publishing house in Europe.
In the dawn of life’s first breath, With love as deep as ocean’s depth, Stand our parents, strong and true, Guiding paths for me and you.
Father’s hands, worn and wise, Hold the stars in endless skies, Teaching strength, instilling pride, With gentle words and a steadfast stride.
Mother’s heart, a beacon bright, Glows with love, purest light, Her tender care, a soft embrace, A sacred bond time can’t erase.
Through the storms and sunny days, In their gaze, a timeless blaze, They nurture dreams, dispel our fears, With whispered hopes and silent tears.
In their laughter, warmth we find, In their patience, hearts aligned, Their sacrifices, vast and grand, Shape the future with a loving hand.
For every night, they stayed awake, For every tear, they chose to break, Their selfless love, a boundless sea, An endless source of strength for me.
So here’s to parents, pillars strong, In our hearts, where they belong, Eternal guardians, steadfast, near, Their love, a treasure, everclear.
Sadoqatxon Sabirjon qizi Ahmadaliyeva was born on January 12, 2008, in Uzbekistan. She is currently an 11th-grade student at School №32. She is learning English and Arabic. She has a passion for history and has read many books on the subject. This year, she received a certificate for successfully participating in the pilot testing process for the PISA international research.
The Singer in the Café
She stood, a tall half-child, thin as a breath,
a face as white as a cloud at noon,
a profile cut from polished shell.
I saw there was something strange in her eyes.
She bent over her guitar’s neck,
carefully picked out a form of sound
in which she placed her voice as far
as nearness is when love is found.
It was as though she had lost nothing.
Polite,
she did not insist. She offered free
what she had found in the warm night:
a thing as small as it was bright
in the forgotten light of her desire,
a shy truth tempered in
a dark fire.
At the end, she bowed, smiling radiantly
toward the rising waters of applause,
then, bending down, after a quiet pause,
from the floor, raised her white cane carefully.
Footprints in the Sand
On the rumpled beach
two perfect prints
where a little girl briefly stood,
with a hint of defiance
in the angle
of the delicate hollows
perfectly delineated among diminutive dunes
smeared like sandy paint
with a palette knife.
And then she dashed away.
But Robinson missed his Friday,
and I kick myself for my typical absent-mindedness.
They would have made a perfect photograph,
those small prints on the beach:
a poetic composition
rich with symbolic meaning
to frame and hang above a mantle
or in a discreet hallway.
But the only camera I brought
is the one that darkens this page.
I smell clam shells, ozone, wood fires.
I see beachcombers like scattered crumbs,
the evening turn the sun into woven glass.
And kick myself again
as I am immersed in the shadows of the night.
And I imagine her say,
that young girl where she pauses,
or perhaps she just thinks it:
How far does the horizon go
beyond the edge of the sea?
There, there I’ll go! . . .
before jetting off in her madcap
dash across the sand.
_____
Christopher Bernard is an award-winning poet, novelist and essayist. His collection The Socialist’s Garden of Verses won a PEN Oakland Josephine Miles Award and was named one of the “Top Indie Books of 2021” by Kirkus Reviews.
Why a young girl standing on her balcony shot on her head?
Why a child on the roof in the lap of her father on her birthday?
Why the passers-by and hundreds of people die on the agitation?
Why? The interrogation always hunts me with much depression.
Why the BTV (Bangladesh Television) Building, Metro Rail Station
And the Norsindi jail burnt and the prisoners flew away from the jail?
Why the internet service got off and later its service centre was burnt?
Why though the net connection repaired, the Facebook use still banned?
Who are the suffers most and who are the gainers-the play is still on the flow.
The commoners understand all, though the uppers realize little.
Human being is less important than the life of an ant, we confess or not.
Seen at home or abroad all the way wherever you run, can mark the same.
Through out all I must say I love you Bangladesh, I feel you much.
Though bloods falling on you, we mourn for them, our sweetest songs.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
30 July, 2024.
Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.
