The earliest memory of my mother is of her chasing me with a pan, round and round the Jamun tree. If I recall correctly it was because I was playing Rangoli with all the spices, trying to make patterns with turmeric and chilli powder in the rain water. Daughters have this uncanny ability to drive their mothers crazy, be it with their choice of boyfriends or wacky hair colors.
I still remember the day when I went home after applying blonde streaks in my hair. Aghast, she could only utter – “Ram-o-Krishno-Ram-o-Krishno”!!! To avoid further damage I prevented my sister from revealing her plans of getting blue extensions. 😛
As I look down the memory lane, unknowingly a smile spreads, to relish those memories again. To have spent 28 years under the comforting wings of women so strong and confident that whatever little achievement I have received till date is due to her incessant support. 28 years I had spent cuddled in pure love and fun.
She is a perfect example of how extreme determination can melt any hindrance in the way of your dreams. My mom is a farmer’s daughter who never had enough paper to solve mathematic problems during her school days yet she dreamt of being a Graduate. That dream didn’t die when she got married during her final year and household duties soon fell upon her. Two years later while she was carrying me, she wrote her exams, got her degree and soon secured a job as teacher. So now you see where I get the intelligence from. 😛
Although the three of us- my brother, my sister and I keep on testing her patience, I was hugely surprised when she let me marry the guy she had met only 4 times till date, just once before the engagement. Maybe I was more paranoid about my wedding than her who travelled from one part of India to the other on my special day. Words are not enough to describe how proud I feel to have a mother who trusts her daughter’s decisions. I know sounds bizarre. 😛
Today, as she lies in the hospital bed, suffering from a gall bladder infection, all I could feel is guilt – extreme guilt and shame for not being with the one woman who made me who I am. I have written about a lot of women around me, but never my mom because she’s not the women around me, she’s the women within me.
“On looking back I see you smile, blessed always were we
How can I ever be alone, when you’re watching over me”
‘I am writing a Tribute to Mom in association with Parentous.com‘