My mother spent her entire life too busy to spend time with her family or husband. If you’re unapologetic and constantly available to everyone you are, you don’t get an opportunity to take a breather.
The only problem in writing this column that features the mother of my life is I do not want anyone to be thinking, “Oh, what a wonderful woman Sudha is,” and the whole world is prone to unintentionally Nazar-lagao, the innocent woman who reads this column after it article is published. In the interest of the greater good, I’ll try to limit my excitement about the beauty of the mother of my life, Sudha.
My brother called me to chat about Mother’s Day plans with me some time ago. We share the same city, but we are separated by hours during times of high traffic. I was a bit skeptical of the notion.
“Why should we bother with this new-fangled concept of Mother’s Day?” I asked. “We do not need a single date to give her the feeling of being special. We can make her feel special at any time.”
Before Mother’s Day, I found recently uploaded pictures of my extremely happy mother on my Instagram and Facebook feed. The photo shows her eating lunch in a fancy dining establishment with some of my relatives who had gathered in cities to bring their mom out for a treat and also invited Sudha to their mass because she was available. It’s not that I didn’t feel jealous of my mother having fun and not with her loving children, however, but with her nieces. It took a lot of effort to manage my emotions.
Then, Sudha shared her experience with us. She was thrilled. I noticed that this wasn’t the first time I had not understood my mother’s requirements. I am a repeat defaulter.
But I’m not going to spend columns on Mother’s Day beating myself up for being a negligent daughter. I’m going to be celebrating her and myself.
Amid the pandemic years, I’ve begun to appear similar to my maternal grandmother. My mother does not look the way she appears looks like a young woman but like an old woman. Of course, I’m the same age as my mother, an older woman; however, I have to stay home to see this new appearance in the mirror. It is helpful that I don’t do my hair dry as I know exactly what’s in the fridge and what could be running out. I also probably stress more than I did before. I’ve acquired a different kind of responsibility handed to me.
More micro-level care, More managing, and more helplessness.
It could be the very fundamentals of motherhood. This isn’t meant negatively. It’s a superpower that allows us to accept vulnerability. If power corrupts, which we are aware it is the result that the lack of power can also provide us with the possibility of gentleness. To compensate, we tap our reserves.
“I often feel that everything I write is just me trying to find my way back to Sudha, my mother,” I confessed to one of my friends once. The first time she replied to an SMS message, spoke about it in a WhatsApp group, or remarked on my writing in the public domain will always remember the joy I feel whenever I hear her words. She’s speaking up. Her attention is focused on my genuine voice.
Like many mothers’ wives, Sudha has spent her life too busy to spend time with her family or husband. A lot of people have depended on her. She has always been over-efficient. When you’re not complaining and always available to other people, it is impossible to catch any time for yourself.
The most valuable lessons I’ve learned from my mother come from watching her grow up like an auntie. She is a great example of passion and dedication to detail in her interactions with her children, aged 19 to three years old. She also has a magical touch here.
I’m not sure what to refer to it since while I can see its effects, I’m unable to imagine the mechanism behind it. Sudha’s grandchildren love her. My kids feel secure within the world because Nani is around. Nani never gets angry. She has never yelled at her tongue because they are small, inefficient people. Our pets are wary of visitors and swarm around my mom when she visits.
One of the most impressive characteristics that my mom has is she walks. Like most disciplined people, she walks at least twice per day. She walks throughout the day too. At the onset of a family gathering, If Sudha is absent, it is likely she’s taken an exercise. She wanders through the rooms at her home and adds numbers to her walking app throughout the day long. If something has to be purchased from a nearby store or an outlying market, Sudha and her walking shoes will always be willing to run to get it.
Sudha’s walking inspires me. It offers confidence to my tired feet and knees that are shaky. Like her, I’ll be able to recover from the youthful excesses as I get older.
I contacted my older brother, who lives in the United States, to remind him that it’s Mother’s Day in India this weekend. “Happy Mother’s day to you. You’re the best mom I have ever met, and that’s like my mom.” I replied to him. I believe him.
