Stories 
The Mother

This is a touching story from the collection of Hans Christian Anderson telling about a mother’s love for her little child and her struggles to rescue him from the claws of death. And it also tells that God is always kind and knows what we don’t know. Even death is a sign of His mercy. A story simplified and retold by Sunitichandra Mishra

A mother sat there with her little child who was pale, still, asleep in her arms. The restless mother hugged him tightly and her eyes were filled with grief and sorrow. Then the half-shut doors opened and an old man entered the room with a warm cloth-wrapper in his hands. He was Death. He had come to take away the child in that cold, chilling, winter night. As he stretched his hands for the child, the mother shivered and protested: “No, you can’t take him. Our Lord is kind.” But the poor mother, sleepless from several nights, could not help it and the old man took away her son from her lap and rushed out swiftly as the wind. “No”, she cried out and ran as fast as she could to find that old man in that stormy, snow-clad night.

Out there in the midst of the snow, there stood a woman in a long, black robe. The grief-stricken mother fell at her feet and asked: “Who are you? Have you seen an old man fleeing away with my child?” “I am Night,” said the woman, ”and the old man who has run away with your child is Death. You can’t find him.” But the impatient mother was not to listen. “Tell me... Just tell me, which direction did Death go? I must follow him and fetch my son. I’m a mother” she sobbed. Night took pity on her and said: “Well, I can tell you where Death has gone but first you sing for me all the songs and lullabies you had sung for your child”. The lamenting mother was left with no option but to sing all the songs and lullabies for Night while wiping her rolling tears in between. In the end, Night pointed to a direction and said: “Go to the right, into the dark pine forest. There I saw Death with your little child.” Wasting not a second, the mother ran like a storm towards the dark pine forest but she saw Death nowhere. Sadly, she turned to a nearby Thorny Bush standing there shivering in the dark, chilling night. “Have you seen Death carrying my child?”, inquired the poor mother. The Bush smiled faintly and said: “Though nobody can find the place where Death lives, I take pity on your condition and will tell you where he has gone but please hug me and warm me up as you always did to your little son. You see what a cold night is this!” Her heart wanted to come out as every passing moment was killing her but the poor mother hugged the Thorny Bush and asked: “Tell me now, where has Death gone?” “To that direction”, pointed out the Bush.

Again, running like a storm, the helpless mother reached a point where there was a frozen lake. The water was still. The night was dark. Not a voice was to be heard. There she saw a garden in which many beautiful flowers were planted and there was an old, a very old lady, serving as the Caretaker of that garden. The mother asked the old lady: “Have you seen Death? He has fled away with my child…. my only child”, and she wept bitterly... so bitterly that the old lady took pity on her and said: “I wonder how you have come to this place ‘cause no human being can ever reach this place. And your son is now planted as a flower in this garden amongst millions of flowers. Go back, you can never find him, nor even can recognize because this is Death’s garden”, warned the old lady, but the mother was un-affected. With pensive eyes, she looked at the lady and said: “I will surely recognize my child. I am a mother” and she ran into the garden, bent over flower to flower, smelled them one by one and, ultimately, stopped near a sad blue Crocus and cried out: “This is my child”. And she was true because she was a mother.


“But what difference it makes?”, the old lady said, “Death will never let you take away your child”. At the same time, they heard footsteps and Death appeared there, amazed at once how a human being could come to this realm. The mother fell at his feet and washing them with her soul-rendering tears, she begged him to relieve her son. Death said: “It is not possible. I have planted these flowers for Lord God and soon they will be taken to an unknown land”. But the mother did not unloose her hold. She wept and rubbed her nose on Death’s ice-cold toes: “I am a mother. You don’t know my pains. I can’t live without my child.” So much she wept, so much she bewildered that Death took pity on her. And he said: “Well, I set your son free but, come, follow me”. And he led that wailing mother to a dark, deep well and uttered: “This is the well of future. Look down and see the future of your child before taking him from here”.

The mother, now happy and curious, looked down in the deep, dark well. Soon, the glimpses of the future of her son appeared before her very eyes. She saw what a cruel fate her son would meet if he would be alive. She saw what misfortunes, what tortures, what pains and pangs, were destined for him if life was to be bestowed on him. She saw such sufferings coming across her son that no mother could bear to see. She closed her eyes and wept bitterly and fell at Death’s feet and said in utmost grief: “I go back, O Lord! I don’t want my son.” Death smiled: “I find you very strange, O Lady! You had come for your child. Now I grant his life. Why don’t you take him?” But tears rolled from her eyes as if she wanted to say: “Death is better than such life.” And she folded her hands in prayer, looked up the sky and said to the Almighty Lord: “Hear me not when I pray against Thy will .. hear me not .. hear me not ..”

And she bowed down her head and Death took her child to an unknown land …   

April 16, 2006

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Hans Christian Anderson was a great writer who wrote hundreds of excellent tales for children. Reading his tales is a wonderful experience and the way he writes leaves an unforgettable impression in our hearts. Hans Christian Anderson wrote for children but his stories are so excellent that even elderly people will benefit from them. In most of his stories, the characters are simple things like a plant, a flower, a butterfly, a bird, etc. but these simple characters act in such a way as if they are thoughtful beings like us. In a number of his stories, Hans ‘personifies’ human sentiments like ‘Happiness’ or ‘Anger’ or natural forces like ‘Death’ and you’ll feel they are like living beings, talking to you, telling you their heart’s secrets. His stories tell us about the victory of the good, love and power of God, smiles and tears of life. Hans originally wrote in Danish language but his tales are translated into many other languages of the world and some of his stories are even included in the Disney Cartoons.

Hans Christian Anderson was born in Odense (Denmark) on 2nd April, 1805. His father was a simple shoe-maker and mother a washerwoman. When Hans was only 11 years, his father died and he was forced to work. He faced many ups and downs of life. At the age of 14, he moved to Copenhagen, the capital city of Denmark, and started his career as a singer and an actor but he did not succeed. He could not even receive formal schooling in his childhood. Later when he was 17 years old, he got admission into a school where his classmates were hardly 10-11 years. So his friends and teachers laughed at him most of the time. They also mocked at him because of his shy nature. “I can’t understand whether he is a boy or a girl”, poor Hans often overheard such comments in his school. In addition, he had to work hard to earn his living. His mother had encouraged him to write plays and fairy tales and run puppet shows. Hans decided to choose writing as his career. Though in the beginning his plays were rejected, he struggled hard till he became one day the most successful writer of children’s stories and one of the most translated authors of Europe. Hans Christian Anderson died on August 4, 1875 but his immortal stories will never die.