In plain words
“First to Mother...”
During the war in Rangoon, a mother and her son escaped from there and reached Madras. In Madras they knew no one; they had no food to eat and no shelter to stand under. “I can bear any hardship. But how can my son bear it?” she worried. Nobody can describe the sweetness of a mother's Prema, saying it is like this or like that. Mother and son made their home at a bus stand. Every day the mother went from house to house begging for alms, fed her son first and ate what was left. Some days there was nothing left for her to eat. As a result her health gradually broke down. Seeing how his mother's health stood, the son: “Mother! All this time you have looked after me. From now on, looking after you is my duty. You stay at home. I will go out to beg,” he said. From that day the boy went from house to house begging, fed his mother first and ate what was left. On a day when he got only enough food for one, he gave it to his mother and went hungry himself. After some time he too grew weak. One day he stood before an officer's house: “Sir! I am hungry, hungry,” he said. At that moment the officer was sitting in an easy chair on the verandah, reading the newspaper. “My boy! Sit right here. I will put out a leaf and serve you rice,” he said, went inside and brought rice on a leaf. “I will not eat here; I will take it home,” said the boy. “If you are really hungry, you can eat right here, can't you! Why take it home?” the officer said, and pressed the boy to sit down there and eat. All of a sudden, from weakness, the boy's head spun and he fell down. He was trying to say something, but he could not say it aloud. Wanting to hear what he was saying, the officer put his ear to the boy's mouth. The boy breathed his last saying, “First to Mother, first to Mother...” Then the officer understood how great the boy's Prema for his mother was. “How blessed is this boy, who gave his very life for his mother! How fortunate is the mother who bore so good a son!” he thought.