I Cannot Remember My Mother Questions & Answers | Class 9 English | CBSE NCERT

(b) — only sometimes, in the midst of his play, a tune seems to hover over his playthings.

(b) — the tune of some song that she used to hum while rocking his cradle.

(c) — she used to hum while rocking his cradle.

To linger or remain near a place — the tune seems to float gently around his playthings.

Personification — the tune is given a living, human-like action, as if it can hover like a presence.

Hearing (the auditory sense) — the stanza is built around a tune, a song and humming.

(d) — "when in the early autumn morning / the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air".

(b) — the scent of the morning service in the temple comes to him as the scent of his mother.

(c) — shiuli is a flower (the coral jasmine), whose smell floats in the autumn morning air.

The repetition of the 's' sound — scent, service (also smell, shiuli, sky of the stanza's setting) — is alliteration.

The sense of smell (the olfactory sense) — "smell", "scent" and "floats in the air" fill the stanza.

The sacred, everyday scent of the morning service carries the very presence of his mother for him — it "comes to me as the scent of my mother".

(b) — he looks out from his bedroom window into the blue of the distant sky.

(b) — he feels that the stillness of his mother's gaze has spread all over the sky.

(b) — the vast, calm sky becomes a symbol of the mother's tender, all-surrounding presence.

The poet gazes far into the distant blue sky from his bedroom window.

Personification — the eyes are described as though they can be 'sent' somewhere like a messenger.

Her love was calm, peaceful, protective and constant — like a quiet, watchful gaze that never disturbed the child.

The repeated line deepens the sense of loss and longing. Each repetition reminds us that the mother cannot be recalled directly, making the sensory memories that follow — the tune, the scent, the gaze — all the more tender.

(i) The shiuli flowers carry a fragrance like the scent of his mother, linking her to sacred rituals. (ii) The tune she hummed while rocking his cradle is her voice preserved in memory, keeping her alive around him.

Nature is the storehouse of the poet's memory. The shiuli flowers of autumn, the temple scent and the blue distant sky all become symbols through which the absent mother returns to him, surrounding him as her love once did.

Its beauty comes from musical free verse, the refrain, and rich sensory imagery of sound, smell and sight. Repetition and gentle rhythm create a melody of their own that quietly moves the reader.

The mother probably died when he was too young to hold her face in memory. Yet his senses preserve her — a hummed tune, a flower's scent, the feel of her gaze — showing her presence lives on within him.

The hovering tune represents the mother's voice and lullabies; the shiuli flowers and temple scent represent her sanctity and daily presence; the blue distant sky represents her boundless, calm, watchful love.

Stanza 1 is auditory — a tune hovers over the playthings; stanza 2 is olfactory — the smell of shiuli flowers and the temple service; stanza 3 is visual — the blue distant sky carries the stillness of her gaze.

The poet sees the bond as deep, sacred and indestructible. Even without conscious memory, the mother's love surrounds him everywhere like the sky — vast, still and protective — surviving separation and even death.

'Hover' suggests the tune lingers gently and quietly near his playthings, like a faint, floating presence. The mother's memory is not forceful; it drifts into his consciousness only sometimes, softly and unexpectedly.

Because he has no conscious memory of her; she comes back to him unbidden, only when a tune, a scent or the sky happens to awaken the feeling of her presence in his mind.

It shows she was a loving, caring mother who tenderly soothed her baby to sleep. The gentle humming and the rocking cradle paint a picture of patient, watchful maternal affection.

The scent of the morning service in the temple comes to him as the scent of his mother. Her memory is thus woven into the sacred, peaceful fragrance of everyday worship, making her presence feel holy.

Because the sacred smell of the early-morning service in the temple, mingled with the floating smell of shiuli flowers, evokes his mother so strongly that the fragrance itself becomes her presence for him.

He is at his bedroom window. From there he 'sends' his eyes into the blue of the distant sky, gazing far away, and feels his mother's gaze spread over it.

The distant sky suggests someone far away and unreachable. Gazing into its vastness, the poet feels his mother's presence everywhere — her love, like the sky, is boundless though she herself is beyond reach.

Her love was calm, quiet and undemanding. Like a still gaze, it watched over the child peacefully and constantly — protective, patient and reassuring, never restless, loud or intrusive in any way.

Onomatopoeia — "hum", which imitates the actual sound of humming with closed lips. Personification — "I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky", where the eyes act like a messenger that can be sent.

He must have been very young — a baby in the cradle — since he cannot consciously remember her at all. Only sensory traces, like the cradle-time tune, remain of her in his mind.

The mood is wistful, tender and quietly sorrowful. Words like "cannot remember", "only sometimes", "hover", "stillness" and "distant" create a gentle atmosphere of longing, soft memory and peaceful remembrance throughout the poem.

A mother's love is eternal and all-pervasive. Though the mother is absent, her love surrounds the child through a tune, a scent and the sky — proving that love survives separation and even death.

In the first stanza, the poet cannot consciously remember his mother, yet in the midst of his play a tune seems to hover over his playthings — the very song she hummed while rocking his cradle. Her presence thus enters his happiest moments unbidden, softly surrounding him through sound.

The second stanza is built on fragrance. In the early autumn morning, the smell of shiuli flowers floats in the air, and the scent of the temple's morning service comes to the poet as the scent of his mother. Smell, the most memory-laden sense, becomes her living presence.

Gazing from his bedroom window into the distant blue sky, the poet feels his mother's calm, watchful gaze everywhere around him. The vast, still sky becomes a symbol of her boundless love — quiet, protective and endless — as though her eyes still watch over him.

Though the mother is absent, each stanza turns something ordinary into her presence: a tune hovering over playthings becomes her voice, the shiuli-and-temple scent becomes her fragrance, and the blue sky becomes her gaze. Absence is thus filled with a felt, sensory presence that never quite leaves him.

The settings show that the mother returns in ordinary, daily moments, not in dramatic ones. She meets him in the midst of childhood play, in the morning temple worship, and in quiet window-gazing — proving her presence is woven unnoticed into the whole fabric of his everyday life.

The title states the poet's paradox: he has no conscious memory — no remembered face or voice — yet he remembers her completely through his senses. The repeated line becomes a refrain that deepens the pathos, while each stanza quietly proves that remembering can happen without conscious memory.

A refrain is a line or group of lines repeated at regular intervals in a poem. Here, "I cannot remember my mother" opens all three stanzas, unifying the poem, building a haunting rhythm, and deepening the sense of loss with each repetition of helpless forgetting.

Being in free verse, without rhyme or fixed metre, the poem flows like a gentle, natural stream of feeling — like memory itself, which cannot be forced into a pattern. The unrhymed lines give the quiet longing a soft, conversational intimacy, exactly matching the poem's tender mood.

Though never directly described, the mother emerges through her actions: she hummed tunes while rocking her baby's cradle, suggesting tender bedtime care; her presence is tied to sacred scents, suggesting purity; and her gaze — a "stillness" that protects — suggests constant, peaceful watchfulness over her child.

The poem's loss is stated in its refrain, but its heart is memory's power. The poet cannot consciously remember his mother, yet memory keeps returning her through a tune, a scent and the sky. Thus even a loss too early to remember is softened by vivid, sensory remembrance.

The poet never describes his mother's appearance; instead, she reaches him entirely through the senses. In the first stanza, in the middle of his play, a tune seems to hover over his playthings — the song she hummed while rocking his cradle — so she returns to him in sound. In the second stanza, on an early autumn morning, the smell of shiuli flowers floating in the air and the scent of the temple's morning service come to him as the very scent of his mother — she returns in fragrance. In the third, gazing from his bedroom window into the blue of the distant sky, he feels the stillness of her gaze spread over it — she returns in sight. Through sound, smell and sight, the absent mother becomes omnipresent, her love surrounding the child as boundlessly as the sky itself.

Though the opening refrain, "I cannot remember my mother", sounds like a lament, the poem is really a quiet celebration of a mother's enduring love. The mother may be physically absent, but her presence is everywhere: in the lullaby that hovers over the child's playthings, in the sacred scent of the shiuli flowers and the temple's morning service, and in the calm blue sky that carries the stillness of her gaze. The tone is not bitter grief but tender, wistful gratitude. The poem suggests that the poet, separated from his mother too early to remember her face, is not empty-handed: her love has soaked into the very air, flowers and sky around him. The mother's love does not end with separation or death — it spreads "all over the sky", surrounding the child forever. The poem thus honours the permanence of maternal love.

Imagery — language that appeals to the senses — is the life of this poem. The auditory image of the "tune" hovering over the playthings recreates the mother's lullabies and fills the first stanza with tender intimacy. The olfactory images of the second stanza — the "smell of the shiuli flowers" floating in the autumn air and the "scent of the morning service" — give the memory a sacred, fragrant purity. The visual image of the "blue of the distant sky" spreads the mother's still, watchful gaze across the whole horizon. Together these images build a wistful, serene mood: the child's loss is felt, but so is the comforting omnipresence of the mother. Without imagery, the poem's emotion would be merely stated; with it, the emotion is experienced — the reader hears, smells and sees the mother's presence just as the poet does.

Dear Friend, People say I cannot remember my mother, for she left when I was barely old enough to hold her face in memory. But I meet her every day. Sometimes, in the middle of my play, a tune floats over my toys — the very song she hummed while rocking my cradle. On early autumn mornings, when the shiuli flowers open and their fragrance drifts in with the scent of the temple service, it is her scent that reaches me. And when I look out of my window into the distant blue sky, I feel her calm gaze resting on my face, spread across the whole heavens. My friend, a mother never truly leaves. Her love is in the air, the flowers and the sky — always around me, watching over me as gently as ever. Write to me soon. Yours affectionately

The mother in the poem is never described directly, yet a clear portrait emerges from the sensory memories she has left behind. She was a tender and devoted mother: the tune she hummed while rocking her baby's cradle shows her patient, loving care at bedtime, soothing her child with song. She was pure and gentle like sacred things: her memory returns with the smell of shiuli flowers and the scent of the morning service in the temple, suggesting a quiet, holy association with worship and fragrance. Above all, her love was calm, watchful and boundless: the "stillness" of her gaze, which the poet feels spread all over the distant sky, reveals a mother whose protective gaze rested peacefully on her child. Though she died when the poet was young, her presence survives in everything tender around him — proof of a love that outlived her.

Rabindranath Tagore's "I Cannot Remember My Mother" is a short free-verse lyric of three stanzas on memory and maternal love. Its central device is the refrain — "I cannot remember my mother" — which opens each stanza and unifies the poem while deepening its pathos. Each stanza then evokes the mother through one sense: hearing (the tune hovering over the playthings, hummed at the cradle), smell (the shiuli flowers and the temple's morning service in early autumn) and sight (the blue of the distant sky carrying the stillness of her gaze). The imagery is reinforced by poetic devices — personification ("I send my eyes"), onomatopoeia ("hum") and alliteration ("scent of the morning service"). Unrhymed yet musical, the poem moves with quiet, wistful longing rather than loud grief. Its theme — that a mother's love survives separation and even death — makes it a uniquely tender poem.

Both texts centre on memory, but in opposite moods. In "Vitamin-M", memory is treated with humour: the story opens with a joke about inventing a "memory vitamin" for old people, and Grandpa's small lapses — a double dose of medicines, a forgotten way home — are set against his astonishing long-term memory of thousands of chess games and of every birthday custom. The young discover that the old man's memory is sharper than theirs. In Tagore's poem, memory is treated with tenderness and longing: the poet cannot consciously remember his mother at all, and she returns to him only through the senses — a tune, a scent, the sky. The prose shows memory failing in small everyday ways yet proving dependable; the poem shows memory absent yet miraculously preserved through love. Together they suggest that what we truly remember is what we have deeply loved.

(b) — Rabindranath Tagore.

(b) — Though he "cannot remember" her directly, her presence comes back through a tune, a scent and the sky.

(c) — The tune of the song his mother used to hum while rocking his cradle.

(a) — "when in the early autumn morning / the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air".

(b) — In the temple, the scent of the morning service seems to him the scent of his mother.

(c) — He sends his eyes into the blue of the distant sky and feels that the stillness of his mother's gaze has spread all over the sky.

(b) — A refrain is a line or group of lines repeated at regular intervals in a poem.

(b) — The eyes are described as if they can be "sent" somewhere like a messenger, giving human action to the sense of sight.

(b) — "hum" imitates the actual sound of humming a tune with closed lips.

(c) — The poem carries gentle longing and nostalgia for a mother the speaker can recall only through senses, not through direct memory.

play ("only sometimes in the midst of my play")

cradle

indoor

outdoor

indoor

gaze (its stillness)

shiuli; morning

(c) — The faint, hovering tune suddenly awakens the memory of the mother humming at his cradle.

True — he says "only sometimes in the midst of my play".

Memory works through the senses: the tune his mother once hummed while rocking his cradle seems to hover over his playthings, so the sound itself becomes her living presence around him.

Because the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air then, and the scent of the temple's morning service comes to him as the scent of his mother.

(b) — The vast, calm sky becomes a symbol of the mother's tender, watchful love, surrounding him everywhere.

(d) — the stillness is calm, peaceful and protective, like a mother's loving gaze.

The sky is boundless, calm and protective — just as a mother's gaze watches over her child everywhere. By likening her gaze to the sky, the poet shows that her love surrounds him as completely and eternally as the sky itself.

In Vitamin-M, memory is treated with humour: Grandpa's small lapses are set against his sharp long-term memory, and the story jokes about a "memory vitamin". In the poem, memory is treated with tenderness and longing — the poet cannot consciously remember his mother at all, and she returns to him only through the senses.

Both texts show that love outlives absence. Grandpa's love finds expression in gifts for his "babies" even when he feels caged by their care; the mother's love in the poem survives her absence, spreading over the sky. Both suggest that bonds of love are permanent, living on in memories, senses and daily acts of giving.

Both are figures of love, but they are remembered and presented very differently. Grandpa is physically present — frail, hard of hearing, and forgetful in small ways, yet spirited, witty and independent; he teases, plans, gives, and ultimately outsmarts everyone. The mother in the poem is a purely felt presence, never directly described; she exists only in a hummed tune, a flower's scent and a gaze spread over the sky. Grandpa is loved and cared for in person, while the poet's mother is loved and sensed in her absence — one text celebrates the living old, the other the departed loved one.

In the poem, the poet cannot remember his mother at all — she is absent even from his memory — and it is precisely this absence that makes every sensory echo of her (the tune, the shiuli scent, the still gaze in the sky) precious. In the prose, Grandpa's family nearly loses him several times — through the overdose, the fall in the garden, and the day he goes missing — and it is Ravi's frantic search, followed by his kneeling, hugging and quiet relief at the sleeping old man's bedside, that reveals how deeply he loves him. Even Vidya's over-anxious care is love wearing the mask of worry. Both works teach the same lesson: the people who love us — mothers, grandparents — are the true "vitamins" of life; we must value, respect and cherish them while they are with us, for memory alone is a poor substitute for their presence.

Vitamin-M teaches that the elderly need respect as much as protection: Vidya's love is real, but her restrictions wound Grandpa's pride, while Ravi's quiet, watchful companionship and affection honour it. The story also warns against ageism — the "forgetful" old man turns out to be the sharpest person in the house. The poem teaches that a mother's love is eternal, and that memory keeps loved ones alive through the smallest things — a song, a flower, the sky. Together they remind me to spend time with my grandparents, listen to their stories, involve them in decisions instead of sidelining them, and record family traditions and memories. Respecting and cherishing the elderly while they are alive, I learn, is the best tribute to the love they give us. Quick Revision — Key Facts at a Glance End of Question Bank — Unit 4, Kaveri Grade 9 English. NCERT Kaveri — Grade 9 English