- He took out the knife hidden in his chest and shook it in his son's care!

- Hamdard use jab se hamne bana diya,

Wah Dard Mere went on writing the name.

- Maxim Gorky

The famous writer Maxim Gorky has a famous story, 'Mother of Traitors'. This is the story of a woman named Mariya who is stigmatized as a Mother when her son becomes a traitor. Let's enjoy the story in brief. The people of the city lashed out at him, saying that his son, like an enemy of man and God, had become a traitor to the country. Woe to the traitor and to the woman who gave birth to him. Hearing such chants, Mara reached the sepoys guarding the city at dawn and said, 'My son has become your enemy. Now either kill me or open the gates of the city, so that I may approach him.'

'The place of the country should be paramount for you. Your son is now as much your enemy as ours.'

'But I am his mother, I love him, and I believe he is the way he is because of me.'

The guards of the city consulted inwardly and said, 'It is not right to kill you for the sin of your son. We know that you would never stand up and give such advice to your son, and we also know how miserable you are. Your son doesn't care about you, he has completely forgotten you. And the same punishment is enough for you. That punishment is worse than death.'

'Yes, indeed, terribly,' she said.

Finally they opened the door and she walked away. People were watching him go and away from the motherland which had become blood stained because of his son. Her legs could not take off soon, because Mariana's heart did not move to leave the motherland. After a while, people noticed that she stopped at a place on the way, looking back and looking at the city of Ekitasu.

The enemies on the other side saw her standing there alone, some of them advanced towards her and challenged her, 'Who was she and where was she going?'

'The leader of you all is my son,' she said. No one doubted his statement. They praised his son and started taking him with them. She listened to his praise with a proud head held high.

And at last she stood in front of the person whom she had known since birth for nine months and whom she had never considered apart from her heart. He was standing in front of her in a silk dress. His arms were studded with pearls. Everything was as it should be, he had often seen him in his dreams in the same form - rich, glorious, admirable.

'Mother!' He kissed Ma's hand and said, 'Have you come? If I have you now, I will conquer that city tomorrow itself.'

'Yes, to the city where you were born,' Ma reminded him.

The son, blinded by the intoxication of his own power, in the spirit of youth, answered arrogantly, 'I was born in the world and for the world. I want the world to see me. I have not won this city yet, only because of you. But this city pricks me like a thorn, for it is a great stumbling-block in the way of my glory, but to-morrow I will crush the obstinate fool.'

'Every stone there knows and remembers you as a child,' said the mother.

A stone remains mute until a human speaks to it. I want the hills to sing of my success.'

'And men?'

'Yes, mother, why forget them too? There is a need for them too, because any hero becomes immortal only by their memory.'

'A hero is also one who brings life higher by facing death, conquers death...'

'No,' said the son, 'he who destroys a city is as proud as he who built it. John, who built Rome, Aeneas or Semulus, but we do not remember Aleatus and others who destroyed it?'

'Yet the name of Rome has not yet been blotted out.'

This kind of conversation continued between mother and son till the sun went down.

Ma kept listening to his arrogant talk, scolding him less and less. Mother is the creator, the protector, the talk of destruction in front of her is against her nature, even the son did not realize that. She always hated the hands that welcomed death into a man's home, but the traitorous son could not understand it, because before his eyes there was a flash of his own glory.

Sitting in her son's magnificent tent, the mother was staring blankly at her beloved city, where she felt the vibration of a new life in her womb, labor pains. In the end, the son who gave birth was the only one who wanted to destroy this city.

Ma saw the dark houses of the city, in which people were more afraid than of lamps lest the attention of the enemy should be drawn to them. He looked at its dark streets, which were filled with the stench of corpses. He heard the whispers of those people, who were counting the remaining hours of life while waiting for death. Everything that was dear and dear to him was silent in front of him, waiting for his decision. At that time, she felt as if she was the mother of everyone living in the city.

'We may attack tomorrow if the night is too dark,' said the son.

'Come my red, lay your head in my lap and rest for a while,' said Ma, 'just remember how cheerful and kind you were when you were a child, how everyone loved you.'

Accepting Ma's words, the son put his head on her lap and winked, 'I love only Yash, Shaan and I love you because you made me so.'

'Don't you love a woman?' Ma asked leaning her face on his.

Where is their lack? But then it falls away, like a very sweet thing falls away.'

'So don't you just want to have babies?'

'Whose babies for, mother? For someone like me to kill him? How much it hurts me, because by the time he grows up, I will be so weak and weak that I can't even take revenge for his death.'

'You are as dry as you are beautiful, like dry earth,' said Ma with a sigh.

'Yes, like dry land.' The son answered with a smile.

He put his head on Ma's lap and slept like a little baby. Ma covered her face with her black palav. Then he took out the knife hidden on his chest and shook it in his hand. At that moment the son passed away.

Throwing her son's body at the feet of the astonished sepoys, she gestured towards her city and said, 'As a loyal citizen I have done all I could for my country. Now I am with my son as a mana night. Now it is impossible for me to have a son again, I am past my age. I know that no one is benefiting from my being alive now.'

And saying thus, he thrust into his breast the dagger, dyed with the blood of his own liver, with the blood of his son. Even this time he did not miss his mark, because it is not difficult to find the mark of an aching heart.

anecdotal

Gandhiji's murder in Gandhiji's country!

An emperor built the Taj, on the banks of the Jamuna.

A Shah built a skyscraper on the mountain of Shatrunjaya.

One showed Ishkemijaji (love), the other showed Ishkehkiki (sovereign love) and sacrificed huge wealth behind him.

The Shah's name is Motisha! The elephant swings in the courtyard, the ship sways in the sea, the gold and silver treasures are extraordinary!

Khimchand Seth, son of Motisha Seth.

Times have changed. Father is gone. The money is gone. Business disrupted. The generation fell raw. Vs. No. In 1908, Shravan Vad Ekam closed down the firm. informed the government. Relatives said, 'In business, everything works. Joje, whatever it is, does not show. Otherwise he will make you a fool.'

Daryadev Khimchand Seth said, 'Whose parents have considered money as a waste of money, I will not give a damn about that money.'

Khimchand Seth submitted the account to the court along with this. A complete list of ornaments has been given.

The judge turned pale. I had never seen such a lump in my life. On the paper, it will be cut off the wrist like this?

Khimchand Seth slowly walked out of the coat, but came back panting. The judge said, 'I want to apologise.'

The judge was surprised, 'Why?'

'I have one in my ear. Sapphires, diamonds and pearls. It has been recorded in the property! I remembered it now. Take note sir!'

The judge was shocked to hear this.

People said, 'Money is one thing, humanity is another thing, no matter how much gold is heated in the fire, it remains gold.'

We remembered this because values ​​were once glorified. Humanity mattered. There was honesty in life and the whole country was ready to surrender with one voice of Mahatma Gandhi, but today that Gandhi era has passed away, but after that a new era has started in this country. Ganga runs along it. Mahatma Gandhi's life and work are constantly criticized. Pick up their sentences and use them in a larger context. Criticizing Gandhi ji by forgetting the time context of the events of his life and a shallow politics has arisen which distorts Gandhi's thoughts and criticizes them following Dogle.

Today it seems that Gandhiji's enemies are eager to kill him. Opponents attack Gandhiji's ideas to prove his fanaticism and bigotry. However, as Gandhiji has said, 'I will continue to speak even from my grave.' That way no one can silence that Gandhi-voice.

The only suffering is that the whole world is respecting and those who have given their lives to save the world from war, killing and violence, and set a new path for the world's freedom, the world famous Mahatma Gandhi, through social media or other means in his own country. happening Tell me whose shame is this?