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When my fledgling flies away from my nest will she crane her neck back to catch a glimpse of me? Did I crane my neck back to see my amma (mother) after taking flight?
“Have you filled in the correct details? Why don’t you check it again?” I uttered pointing my index finger at my daughter.
“Come on mamma, this is not the first time I am filling an application. You continue with your walk.” She sniggered scrunching up her nose to lift up her drooping glasses.
I pranced up and down the hall with my mobile in hand switching on the step counter. My daughter was filling application forms for engineering colleges.
It’s time for my fledgling to take flight.
Please don’t go! My heart ached.
I blinked hard to fight a tiny tear that had formed at the corner of my eye. I tried to swallow the choke at the base of my throat. ‘Sniff! Sniff ’ my nose always gives me away. “Mamma, are you crying?” she queried looking up from her laptop.
Nothing can escape this young Sherlock Holmes’ eyes.
“No! No!” I vehemently shook my head. If I tell her the reason then the house would be flooded with an ocean of tears. This mother-daughter duo have a track record no one can beat. We can cry at the drop of a hat anywhere and for any reason.
How time flies! Amidst the hustle and bustle of life I had no time to stop and notice how fast she was growing. The young sapling has almost grown into a tall coconut tree.
“ She is your carbon copy”, “ She looks just like you”… comments from friends and relatives make me beam with pride.
But somewhere deep inside a feeling of insecurity flickers. I say a silent prayer.
“Please don’t let her be as sensitive as me. Please let her not be an obsessive compulsive thinker like me. Please let her not be a perfectionist like me.”
I want my coconut tree to never bend however hard the wind blows. Amen!
“Mamma, give me a kiss”, “Mamma, hug me tight” the teenager pesters me and is always at my heels. With my menopausal hormones on an overdrive, I have become very touchy. I want to be left alone at least sometimes. I just brush her aside and get on with my work. Then the guilt strikes and I go back to her and peck at her now ‘puffed up with anger’ cheeks.
When she moves on in life whom will I gupshup (gossip) with? With whom shall I enjoy an open hearted uncensored chat?‘
‘Ptch Ptch’ a sound escapes my lips. I am often caught making this noise.
She looks up again, “What are you worrying about mamma? Why don’t you watch something? Watch something funny not murder or a sob story, ok?“ my daughter of a naani ma (grand mom) gives me some nuske (advice).
A smile crosses my lips.
What will I do without her? For the past 17 years I had left behind the bubbly, chirpy Vidya and had slowly but steadily transformed into ‘Khushi ki mummy’. Now it is difficult to retrace my steps. Vidya is somewhere lost in the melee with no hopes of being found.
Somewhere along the journey of motherhood I lost my identity, my wishes, my dreams, my wants, my will. I replaced the ‘my’ with ‘her’. It was her dreams, her wishes, her happiness. Whatever I did was by playing dodge ball with her schedule. If she had exams, I sat up with her. If she had a dance competition I donned the hat of a choreographer. If she had a speech competition I became the writer. If she was bored I became her playmate.
I have come a long way along this journey juggling different roles.
Loud hooting rents the air as Dulquer Salman appears on our home screen much to the chagrin of my hubby. He gives me the “You too!” look.
“Mamma, see how handsome Siddharth Malhotra looks in a light pink shirt!” my daughter thrusts her mobile in front of my eyes and I ogle unabashedly.
“Who is that tall guy in your class? I think you should date him. He looks dashing!” I whisper into her ears.
“Have you gone nuts? He is such a nerd. He can only speak Chemistry, Physics and Maths.. no other languages” she shakes her head from right to left widening her big, round eyes.
Let us loose in a shopping mall and we are lost to the world. We shop till the shop keeper drops.
I didn’t realise when and how my daughter quietly slipped into the role of my friend.
No… not that often. I got too involved in making my own new nest and taking care of my fledgling.
As I sat down to take a breather. I felt warm hands embracing me in a tight hug from behind. She held me close and kissed me on my cheek. All the dark clouds hovering in my mind just vanished and my thoughts settled down like dust settling down when water is sprinkled.
The love, the warmth, the tight embraces, the sloppy kisses, the joy, the laughter, the unfiltered talks, the impromptu dances… this is what I gained. Some things just can’t be measured. They are priceless. My daughter has flooded my life with happiness and joy.
Yes! I have lost myself in trying to be the ‘bestest’ mom ever but I have gained a best friend for life. That’s quite a bargain I must admit.
Image source: absolute-india from Getty Images Free for Canva Pro
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I am a home tutor cum home maker cum blogger. I enjoy reading and writing. read more...
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A new Gallup poll reveals that up to 40% of Indian women are angry compared to 27% of men. This is a change from 29% angry women and 28% angry men 10 years ago, in 2012.
Indian women are praised as ‘susheel’, virtuous and to be emulated when they are obedient, ready to serve others and when they put the wishes of others before their own. However, Indian women no longer seem content to be in the constrictive mould that the patriarchy has fashioned for them. A Gallup poll looked at the issue of women’s anger, their worry, stress, sadness and found that women consistently feel these emotions more than men, particularly in India.
What I loved was how there is so much in the movie of the SRK we have known, and also a totally new star. The gestures, the smile, the wit and the charisma are all too familiar, but you also witness a rawness, an edginess.
When a movie that got the entire nation in a twist – for the right and wrong reasons – hits the theatres, there is bound to be noise. From ‘I am going to watch it – first day first show’ to ‘Boycott the movie and make it a flop’, social media has been a furore of posts.
Let me get one thing straight here – I did not watch Pathaan to make a statement or to simply rebel as people would put it. I went to watch it for the sheer pleasure of witnessing my favourite superstar in all his glory being what he is best at being – his magnificent self. Because when it comes to screen presence, he burns it, melts it and then resurrects it as well like no other. Because when it comes to style and passion, he owns it like a boss. Because SRK is, in a way, my last connecting point to the girl that I once was. Though I have evolved into so many more things over the years, I don’t think I am ready to let go of that girl fully yet.
There is no elephant in the room really here because it’s a fact that Bollywood has a lot of cleaning up to do. Calling out on all the problematic aspects of the industry is important and in doing that, maintaining objectivity is also equally imperative. I went for Pathaan for entertainment and got more than I had hoped for. It is a clever, slick, witty, brilliantly packaged action movie that delivers what it promises to. Logic definitely goes flying out of the window at times and some scenes will make you go ‘kuch bhi’ , but the screenplay clearly reminds you that you knew all along what you were in for. The action sequences are lavish and someone like me who is not exactly a fan of this genre was also mind blown.
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