I love you for how you have been constantly by my side during my right and sometimes not so right decisions.
I feel proud when they compliment me, “I have a mind of my own.”
I blush when they say, “I am an amazing cook.”
I know where the thought flows from when they say, “My writing hits the right chord.”
I know they are right when they say, “I am strong.”
I know you always wished that someday I would grow up and say, “I got it from my MOM.”
Today, I want you to know Maa, “Yes! I got it all from you.”
Our love story began when I was as tiny as a grain of rice floating around feeling safe and cozy inside that amniotic sac. I know I made you feel sick, dizzy, anxious, nervous in the beginning yet you were so happy to have me inside you. I could sense your exuberance when you had whispered the news into Baba’s ear. He hugged you hard and almost left me gasping for breath.
Right away I felt LOVED.
I know your pregnancy was difficult with hardly any house help and a toddler running around the house. I know how miserable you felt experiencing that ugly morning sickness and how much you hated gulping down the milk every morning. Yet you did it for me. I am sorry about all the blood loss, I could hear your cries and wails during my birth but trust me Maa I was trying equally hard to step into the new world and hug you. I cannot thank you enough for taking all the pain during all these months and bringing me to life.
Right then for me, Maa stood for STRENGTH.
I am sorry about all the sleepless nights that I gave you after birth. I was very anxious in the beginning too. Your arms were the safest place for me. I couldn’t bear the thought of not having you beside me and so whenever you tried to put me to sleep in my crib I would cry. From your cozy womb to random strangers coochy cooing, the journey was too overwhelming for me. I got so busy adjusting myself to the new surrounding that I did not realize the physical exhaustion your body was going through and was unable to figure out the reason behind your occasional emotional outburst.
Amidst all the happenings, I realized the meaning of UNCONDITIONAL LOVE.
Today I understand how difficult it must have been for you to give up all the wonderful opportunities that came your way just because you made a choice to be available for us. But you never wished to have sympathized for it. Motherhood is the greatest and hardest thing and you simply excelled at it.
Take ownership of the choices you make in life is what you ingrained in us.
When you’re sick, nobody takes care of you like your Mom. Your presence exuded the warmth of your womb. Even today when I am the mother of a child, I look for you when I am sick. That hasn’t changed Maa.
It goes without saying you were always my COMFORT ZONE.
I remember the day I had got my first period how sheepishly I had come to you and whispered something into your ears. You hugged me hard and said coming 7 days you will have to take care of yourself. You had your religious reservations but never did you project it as a social taboo. That remained ingrained.
No wonder today I question the SOCIETAL NORMS.
For every child “Maa ke hath ka khana” is always going to be special. I used to be hypnotized looking at you moving around in the kitchen churning out delicious meals. But I used to feel prouder when my friends made that special demand “Tumhare Maa ke hath ka khana khana hai”. That day when I had told you my friends were coming over for lunch, you asked me to postpone the plan which was unlike you. I had a meltdown and you finally succumbed to my demands. You had cooked all their favourites. All my friends were so happy and a special mention for your mutton curry. I was basking in the glory of being your daughter.
But you looked weak and exhausted that evening when you came back from the doctor’s clinic. You closed the door and cried, “The pregnancy was not viable.” I was oblivious of what you were going through.
All you earned that day from me was RESPECT.
You made Baba indebted to you for the way you took care of grandma during her last days in spite of the love-hate relationship you shared with her. And today, I am indebted to you for the way you have been taking care of Baba and my little one. I love you for how you have been constantly by my side during my right and sometimes not so right decisions.
Today I realize what falling short of words really means, now that I feel my words are not doing justice to what you really mean to me. Yet I am going to get back home and fight with you and never say “THANK YOU’.
Because No “Thank you” is ever going to be enough for you Maa.
A version of this was first published here.
The image is a still from the movie Secret Superstar
Esoteric read more...
Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, indivisual posts do not necessarily represent the platofrom's views and opinions at all times.
Stay updated with our Weekly Newsletter or Daily Summary - or both!
This strange love story reminds me of Princess Diana when she gave an interview about Prince Charles - "There were three of us in this marriage!”
This love was flawed and broken the way only we humans know how to break things with our ego, pride, insecurity and complexities!
Where do I even begin to tell the story of how deep a love can be, how it transcends time, place and people. Perhaps this is a story about how women are their own worst enemies. Either way it is a story that tells us how frail, fragile and fraught we are as humans and how much we hurt each other.
This love story began when I was two years old. Growing up in India in a culture that wove love stories like Laila Majnu, Heer Ranjha and the epic symbol of love, the Taj Mahal, into the very fabric of our existence, love was always an integral part of our lives.
One such love story was of a boy and a girl who were neighbours. The boy, an athlete, artist and a poet, found his muse in this shy, thoughtful and in her own way poetic girl, who seemed to worship the very ground he walked on. Her face could be found in all the paintings he created, and her name in every poem he wrote. The girl called him Sagar, which means ocean, symbolizing his all-encompassing love for her.
Everything thing was going well; their wedding date was being finalized, till the boy’s older brother who was a doctor in the same little town, got accepted into Stanford Medical School to do his MS.
Earlier my husband would say, 'Arey! What is there in making dal-roti? It's so simple.' After he had to cook everyday when I was ill, he has stopped saying that to me!
“Arey! What is there to do in making dal roti? Put a handful of lentils in the cooker and let it whistle and make two rotis. After all, how long will it take?” A handful of dal (lentils) and two rotis! This is the story of every woman and no one seems to understand.
Some time ago, after a shopping spree, my husband and I entered the house, exhausted. I had just about kept all the bags aside, when my husband said, “I am very hungry, can you make something.”
I looked at my husband in amazement and thought, ‘He had just had food, how did he get hungry again so soon?’
My husband, as if he had read my face, said, “Arey! You know that my stomach is not filled with outside food. Just make dal roti. What is there to do in making dal roti? Put a handful of lentils in the cooker and let it whistle and make two rotis. After all, how long will it take?”
‘Is this the way dal (lentils) and roti are made?’ The thought came to my mind. ‘After all, I also went along and now I am tired too.’ I was also getting angry at myself that after all, I had spoiled the habit of everyone in the house.
All that girls usually expect from their parents is nothing but love and respect. Here is a heart-touching story of a daughter and her father who rediscovered their respect for each other.
All that girls usually expect from their parents is nothing but love and respect. Here is a touching story of a daughter and her father who rediscovered their respect for each other.
“Our little girl is all grown up. It’s her marriage already!” chimed my aunt. It was the day of the Haldi and our small home was decorated with marigold. These yellow flowers are magical, they can transform any place to look all festive and happy. Ours is a big family, no actually, a humongous family. The entire house seemed to have erupted with laughter and people. It made me all warm and happy, having everyone I loved near me.
I wondered if this is why marriages are so big in India. The one time, you have all the family under one roof and the energies are super high, bringing everyone closer. I hugged my aunt. I was to marry the love of my life in 3 days and was so glad my entire family was going to be a part of it.
My parents are somehow not seen around. I tried to find them in the crowd, as people smeared haldi as though I was a wall they had to paint on. I couldn’t find amma, but could hear her gushing to her sisters. It made me smile, how my getting married made her so happy. Maybe I should do it again and again to make her happy. I made a mental note to remember this and say it out loud to her. Oh! How much I loved irritating her.
A pad and a bra change the equation of your life and you wonder if growing up is such a big embarrassment, a sinuous trail beyond your capacity to traverse, a virus that gnaws at your childhood.
She hands me a cloth, folded in several layers, from an old bed sheet I remember we used for the family king size bed. That was when we stayed in junior officers service quarters in Durgapur- the steel city of eastern India. It had faded blue peacock patterns in the middle and catalpa leaves around the border. The blue would soon turn red, blood red.
“Put it” she pauses as if she does not recognize me anymore and completes ‘there’. I evade her eyes, my mind clammy just like the red molasses trickling below. Hesitantly I say, ’This?’ and take my first pad.
Last year I had heard Baba ask Maa, “Mamoni, hasn’t started yet?”.