Joy in the little things of Life!!

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Potter, Writer, Blogger, Quiller, Avid Reader, Chatter Box, Traveller, Foodie, photo crazy, Orchid lover, FB addict, and an enthusiast.... I work on extremes... You'll either find me laughing insanely or discussing something seriously serious.... I suffer from a laughter disorder...I am a lover of arts and crafts and anything that's colorful, bright and beautiful which includes my plants and my little lovely birdies... I am a mad friend, an insane daughter, a crazy wife and an unconventional sister... I choose to love, laugh and live!! My smile is contagious....So be careful :)

Saturday, May 10, 2014

My mother is an Actor, an Angel, a Doctor, Super-Woman, and a Wizard too ….!!

I was just about 4 years old and hit my forehead somewhere while playing. It bled like water from a running tap. I was immediately rushed to a hospital and administered about 3 stitches. The wound was just above my eyes hence immense care was taken to prevent me from turning blind. I vaguely remember bawling and howling. Yes, I was in pain but after few minutes most of the tear that was shed was to get my mother’s attention and sympathy. My mother stood next to me trying to pacify me and I am certain she  understood that most of sobbing was a drama. So just as I thought my melodrama should be taken to the next level, something strange happened. My mother started crying standing next to me. (Back then as a child I didn’t notice but now I recall that she did not shed even a single tear). I asked her why she was crying and she promptly replied “when baby cries, Mummy cries and when baby smiles, Mummy smiles”. I immediately wiped my tears and smiled. After few years I now understand that if I am a drama queen, the genes are certainly inherited from her. 

When I was about 14 and dad was very unwell, we saw another side of Mom. She was managing Dad’s illness, an 8 year old naughty son and 2 young girls, along with a very demanding job. One must also know that finances were screwed up because dad’s ill health did not permit him to work hence he was on a sabbatical. Those 6 months were a nightmare. But then we siblings couldn’t comprehend that mom was going through so much. Life was portrayed as normal as possible to us. All we knew was a little about dad’s illness which was often covered up with something easy. Our fee was paid on time; our recreation was just as it was before dad’s illness. Birthday was just like any other birthday. Our lunch box was always full and so was our stomach.  I don’t remember making any compromise at all. And mom’s signature smile was pasted across her face throughout that period. Since dad’s doctor was quite far off the onus of taking him to the doctor was also on Mom. She managed that too. After every visit she said, “Papa is doing so well and he will be fine in no time.” Her determination finally saw victory and Dad indeed recovered well and our family bounced back. It was only after about a decade that we siblings realized that quite a lot of mom’s gold jewelry was missing. As some one once told me , "Angels are packaged as mothers or vice versa."

I suffered from frequent cold and cough all through my childhood. And it drained me so much that a hyper active child like me turned in to a sulking chicken within minutes. So my mother would make a kadha with some handpicked ingredients, which tasted the ugliest in this whole wide world. Every time she insisted that she has changed the ingredients and the kadha was tastier now, however it turned out to be uglier. But 2 days of the mission ugly kadha and I could run 100 miles without gasping for breath. After my wedding when I wanted to make it for my husband, my mother shared the magic ingredients with me and said, “Add a tinge of love to it. The kadha works faster that way.” The little secret of my fast recovery was finally revealed. Who cares about Medical science, I believe in my mother’s kadha just as the world believes in a doctor’s prescription.

There was a time we siblings thought mom had clones or copies of her or whatever you call it. She never ever missed any of our important events. Be it my interschool competitions, my brother’s cricket match, PTA meetings at our school, annual functions, open houses, etc etc in spite of being a working woman. And I don’t remember she ever sulked about it. I still wonder how she managed all of it. Added to it was our regular falling ill, doctor’s visit, our homework, keeping an eye on us so that we grow up as fine individuals (my brother and I have nicknamed her as ACP Pradyuman because of her investigating abilities), managing our silly sibling squabbles, our annoying tantrums, untimely demands for sandwiches and samosas, and dealing with unreasonable neighbors because we siblings were the naughtiest of all. I have now come to understand that Super women are clad in simple sarees and they fight smaller yet incalculable battles every day.

Mom: Are you alright, K? Mom called me at 6 in the morning.
K: Yes Maa.
Mom: Stop lying. I am feeling restless since yesterday. Tell me the truth.
K: I had food poisoning last night Maa. But I am fine now. Don’t worry.
Mom: Pause for few seconds. Take care. Now sleep. I will call you again.

After I hung up I looked at my husband suspiciously. “I didn’t tell her anything. I have been with you all night”, he explained and he wasn’t lying. Later on several occasions I apprehended that my mother could feel my pain even when she wasn’t told anything. I don’t know how she does this? My brother and I haven’t been able to solve this mystery. My sister seems to have reached at some point at least considering that she is a mother too. “It’s a power switch that is turned on when you become a mother”, my sister jokingly said one day. Well, maybe she is right. But whatever it is my mother has this strange ability of reading my words even when I say nothing. She reads my voice on the phone even when I try to be as normal as I can. And she can see through my smile even when I haven’t cried a single tear. I have serious doubts that she has attended some of those classes at Hogwarts School.

I can write for hours together about Maa. The love that she has bestowed upon us is precious. I couldn’t have had a better mother than her. So every time I reincarnate (if I do), I pray that Maa is reincarnated as my Maa (I am sure she is already fretting at this thought). For whatever we siblings are today, a larger acclaim for the same goes to this beautiful lady who silently stood behind us and by us throughout while we were busy growing up.

Happy Mother’s Day Maa. Life is worth living and lively only because it is filled with your incorrigible optimism, joyous giggle and selfless love.

You are our Rock Star.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

S, K, and A.
(Badmaash Bacche)

P.S. I have a strong belief that every mother in the world is beautiful and wonderful. Happy Mother's Day to your Mother as well. 

Also, please ignore the editing issues in this post. There are many but I just didn't have the patience to edit it. I was super excited about posting it because I wanted Maa to read it before she called it a day.

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