Mother,

You don’t expect me to use dear. Do you? Oh, mother stop pretending as if you don’t know what I’m talking about. I believe you’re not that old to fake senility. I mean that foolish infatuations of yours. How on earth could you have done it. Having two boys but fond of one!

I need to write this letter mainly to say that I have finally found the thing which I needed from you most but denied me, even though it should be natural. And that of course, was/is the cause of my emotional anguish. Mother, you of all people know you and I have suffered great pains. I don’ t even know where to start.

Don’t you remember how you used to keep me in your room but exhibit my elder brother to the visitors like in the museum? That action of yours has made me withdrawn from the society, almost in solitude – strange adult. There are many things you did to me that often trigger the question: are you my biological mother? But then there’s no question about that. However, the fact that I was compelled to do a research in order to ascertain such fact speaks for itself.

Despite the fact that I was the brilliant one, you decided to send my brother to school. I was never disturbed by this, for it was obvious only one of us could pass through the classroom – due to financial constraint. Although I didn’t think moodily about it then, now I often wonder why you chose to send a dull child to school instead of the brilliant one?

Remember that father used to beat the hell out of you in those troubled days. I hope you have not forgotten I was the one who stopped father’s rage. His menancing anger was like roses ramped over the wall, an act that caused embarrassment and eventually destroyed our family. Even with that disrespectful but courageous action I displayed, you didn’t rain your affection to wet my haggard mind like you naturally did to my elder brother. Natural affection is much more than mere wish. I wished I could buy your tenderness with my eyes.

It was in 1966 or so. My brother and I had noticed some bruises in your face. We asked after your well-being, and demanded to know what it was that nearly blind you, but as usual you said it was a kind of accident which you didn’t elaborate on. We later found out what happened. It was father. He had thrown you down from our two-story building and beaten you mercilessly – again.

As a result of father’s childish behaviour, my brother and I were the scorn of our community. They often called us "sons of woman beater". While my brother took it lightly, I didn't. And that led to the incident which prompted my escape from home. I would not even be surprised if you have forgotten, after all, you have always treated everything as innocuous as possible.

When I told you that other parents had forbidden their children to play with us, you quickly rebuked me, saying it was because of my aggressive behaviour. It didn't occur to you that they were preventing their children from us because they believed we might take after our father thereby influence their children. Till today I still don't know why you always defended a wicked man like my father.

Mother, this is my account of what happened in 1966. For sometime my brother and I had a secret plan because we were determined to end father's cruelty. It was to be executed smoothly but your godamn favourite chickened out at the last minute. When I asked him why he had renegade on his promise, he retorted, "because violence never solved any problem." I should have known better. My brother would forever remain a coward.

"So what shall we do now," I asked. "We cannot allow father to kill mother."

Your loving son had suggested we inform the elders about the pathetic situation. After a long argument, I reasoned with him; and so the elders came around on that fateful evening. They pleaded with father and he promised never to lift his deft hands on you again. And so we felt on top of the world. For the first time, I respected my brother for his non-violence initiative that worked like magic.

Our joy was short-lived however. Immediately the elders left, father started his impervious behaviour. He started beating you again, accusing you of tarnishing his image among his family - for reporting him. And that was the last I could take from his wickedness. I struck. I stoned him, an action that left him partly blind. It was that fateful day he came to his senses – he stopped beating you – for good. And how did you thank me? "Only bastards rebuke their fathers," that was exactly your words. And you never cared about my whereabout. You never – even before I ran away.

I am not angry but sad. I am sad because motherly affection is a nurturing stimulus on a child. You willingly deprived me of this until I met a real mother, who is now fighting with vigor to promulgate a law against wife beaters with emphasis against any form of retroactive law. She abhors this aspect of punishment and correction. It means father would escape being prosecuted. Nevertheless I think such law will bring a kind of closure - to you. I mean to say you need psychological purification. Don’t you think so?

Well, over the years I have trained my mind; now I chew empathy like cola nut. As a grown up, I have since realised you were helpless. You couldn't help loving my brother. You love him, and there's no other way to describe it. My anguish was never how much you loved my brother, but your lack of understanding. Oh, mother, if you had known how much I waited for you to tuck me to bed – as you always did my brother.

Because you couldn't share your love between your two children, I decided to run away. After years of wandering the planet, I found another mother who cuddled me when I was dying for affection. She gave me hope, taught me many wonderful things: the quality of being worthy of esteem, understanding the suffering of others and wanting to do something about it, benevolence, writing, speaking out, philosophy of life, and especially forgiveness. I am happy and I often kiss happiness as it flies by – as each day wax.

It was just yesterday that I knew about your incurable illness. I gathered that your one and only son has deserted you, and that your end is near unless something drastic is urgently applied. According to Worldnews report, the sudden disappearance of your favourite son is part of your illness. Hum, it was far from that when I ran away. Well, I have discussed your hopeless situation with my " real " mother and we are going to give you the best care in the world.

Besides, my " real " mother is dying to thank you for giving birth to a wonderful son she never had - but now have. Her exact words paraphrased in bold letters.

Bye for now, and do keep it positive.