Happy Mother’s Day



She was walking on the beach

A long skirt hiding her knees

Dotted with tiny blue florets

A white linen blouse flattened her bosom


She never wore a bathing suit


Immaculate as the sunset

Pretty as a picture

Mysterious as the sea

Smiling to herself

Poetic, in love, sweet,

A dreamer

She fell in love only once

People said

The blessed day was her wedding day


A long trail of foot steps

She left

Printed in the moist sand

In joyous innocence

Behind her I walked

Placing my steps

One by one in her wake

She was the apple of my eye!

She was my mother!

Anita Bacha


Processed with Moldiv

Processed with Moldiv



Mauritius, a former British colony, won its independence in March 1968. Simultaneously, 300 (official) and more children left the country in intercountry adoption until the year 1988. In that year, intercountry adoption became under the strict control of the Government. In 1993, Mauritius as a party State of The Hague Conference signed the Hague Intercountry Adoption Convention on the Protection of Children and Co-operation between States.

I dedicate this poem to all the Mothers of the World

 My Birth Mother and My Adoptive Mother

Her shiny brown eyes like ripe tamarind pulp

 Her olive color skin, her long flowing black hair

Her cute oval face and sweet, crying voice

Her fragrance, vetiver interlaced with wild musk

Tore my heart apart as I let go of her linen camisole

She is my mother!

 Locked in her arms, I snuggle, forgetful of the world

Throwing my legs and arms in gleeful abandon

I yawn

Languidly I open my eyes

 Her loving, sky blue gaze

Her porcelain white skin glowing in the sun light

Her golden curls dancing around her pretty face

Her perfume, carnation interlaced with red rose

Fill my heart as I bury my head in her silken stole

She is my mother!

Mother is the one who renounced me

Mother is the one who found me

Mother Is

Mother always will be

 Anita Bacha

Processed with Moldiv

Processed with Moldiv

Poem – Mother of Mine


POEM – Mother of Mine

 If I were to pen your portrait

Yon memory lane paving my way

Words would fumble and fail to define

Your beauty so pure, so divine

Your laugh chased the gloomiest cloud away

Your tears molten the frozen heart at bay

Years passed by, your hair turned grey

Your sweet smile did not fade away

O Mother of mine!

A shining star in the sky above

Shower on this child of thine

 Pink rose petals of eternal love!

                                                    – Anita Bacha –

for me a pink rose