..means Mother
Mother, is not a word, its a kingdom
Ruled by a woman, who becomes God when she becomes a mother, whose territory no man can reach, not even a father
Her smell, is the smell of everything safe and comforting, even when you have grown old
Its only her who can bring back all the memories of your childhood, things you never knew you did, are etched in only her memory
A child unknowingly is always turning to his/her mother...in ways s/he does not know..in ages when they dont even know that they seek their mother everywhere they go..those who have had the privilege of having a mother for most part of their lives..and have been loved by her in every new phase of their life they entered
My grand mother(Ma's Ma) died last month, 19th of September, and I cant believe its already a month
I was preparing to fly away to London the next day and got to know the news early morning..I still recall my mother's voice, who had flown down to be with Amma(As she had been sick for a while and for a week her condition was alarming) "चली गयी अम्मा .." (Amma is gone), and a for a moment I cried like a baby...not for my ties with her, but for all the ties which binds me to her in ways which are difficult to explain.
I was never her favorite grand daughter, from the beginning. I was this spoilt girl, who dint behave like a girl, who would raise her voice and argue over things with her. But with time, we both(I believe) started respecting and admiring each other. Though both of us being little stubborn, would end up not talking to each other for long duration of time.
I postponed my London plans, and since her rites were to be done the next day morning, I just had 40 minutes in hand to book a ticket and get on the flight. I was not sure I would get it, but something in me told me I had to try, to at least make it right this one last time, with her.It would have been a regret of a lifetime, if I could not manage that. But eventually with a bit of struggle and pleading with flight people, as I was little late, I managed to get the flight.
She was a poetess, a writer who wrote of her own life and people around her in such a poetic way, which made her life always look larger than life. She also published an assortment of her poems called "नदी पुकारे " (The river calls). Each of her grand parent, who have had little interest in reading and writing can vouch that their first love for writing has come from her.
I still recall that as a kid, in-spite of me not being in her good books, she would never hesitate in appreciating what I wrote, or anything intelligent I said or did. She was unbiased that ways.
I started feeling very proud of her gradually, when by and by I realised that for a person her age, and her era, getting a bachelor's degree and teaching in a college was such a big thing, yet she did it.
Married at an age of 13 years, when she still played with dolls, and going on to finish her studies and then become a lecturer was an achievement for which I guess her husband and my late grandfather should also be commended
She was a mother-in-law at the age of 39 and a grand mother at 41 and then a widow at 47. She lived next 35 years of her life moving round to all her children houses, sometimes feeling loved but many a times she felt like a burden,neglected....cos in our society a woman without a man is made to feel like that. And she being someone who held herself in a very high esteem, would feel that more often than others.
When she felt most dejected, she would sometimes quote this couplet from Bahadur shah zafar "ना किसी की आँख का नूर हूँ, ना किसी के दिल का करार हूँ " (I am not the light of anyone;s eye, nor solace for any heart)
For her final journey all her children (my mom, 3 of my aunts and their husbands, her son and his wife) were there, along with some of us grandchildren.
We all sat around her body, the whole night, one last time...talking about her, her humorous nature, her distaste for anything below her level of decency, her desire to be always around people, her idiosyncrasies and her undaunted love. There were times when all of us broke into peals of laughter talking about her, and then the very next moment everyone would go teary eyed.
It felt like we were circling around a huge mammoth mass of sadness, scared to poke it, gently touching it with memories, to sooth our hearts and stopping it from tearing us apart
When her body was taken away, my mom and all my aunts held each other and cried like a baby...and as we grandchildren stood aside and watched them, I thought that losing a mother is a grief only her children would ever know. A space noone can enter, the sadness noone else can fathom. only the ones who are her kids, her babies
She was a woman, quirky, whimsical, stubborn, talented, loving, possessive, disciplined, adorable...sometimes disliked, sometimes looked up-to, sometimes she made some jealous...and much much loved..Amma
I still recall the way she would sometimes ask me, when we met after long
"कुछ कह सु ..." (Share something Su..)
Till we meet again..and share our anecdotes, our loves, our chitchat..once again..like million years before
Mother, is not a word, its a kingdom
Ruled by a woman, who becomes God when she becomes a mother, whose territory no man can reach, not even a father
Her smell, is the smell of everything safe and comforting, even when you have grown old
Its only her who can bring back all the memories of your childhood, things you never knew you did, are etched in only her memory
A child unknowingly is always turning to his/her mother...in ways s/he does not know..in ages when they dont even know that they seek their mother everywhere they go..those who have had the privilege of having a mother for most part of their lives..and have been loved by her in every new phase of their life they entered
My grand mother(Ma's Ma) died last month, 19th of September, and I cant believe its already a month
I was preparing to fly away to London the next day and got to know the news early morning..I still recall my mother's voice, who had flown down to be with Amma(As she had been sick for a while and for a week her condition was alarming) "चली गयी अम्मा .." (Amma is gone), and a for a moment I cried like a baby...not for my ties with her, but for all the ties which binds me to her in ways which are difficult to explain.
I was never her favorite grand daughter, from the beginning. I was this spoilt girl, who dint behave like a girl, who would raise her voice and argue over things with her. But with time, we both(I believe) started respecting and admiring each other. Though both of us being little stubborn, would end up not talking to each other for long duration of time.
I postponed my London plans, and since her rites were to be done the next day morning, I just had 40 minutes in hand to book a ticket and get on the flight. I was not sure I would get it, but something in me told me I had to try, to at least make it right this one last time, with her.It would have been a regret of a lifetime, if I could not manage that. But eventually with a bit of struggle and pleading with flight people, as I was little late, I managed to get the flight.
She was a poetess, a writer who wrote of her own life and people around her in such a poetic way, which made her life always look larger than life. She also published an assortment of her poems called "नदी पुकारे " (The river calls). Each of her grand parent, who have had little interest in reading and writing can vouch that their first love for writing has come from her.
I still recall that as a kid, in-spite of me not being in her good books, she would never hesitate in appreciating what I wrote, or anything intelligent I said or did. She was unbiased that ways.
I started feeling very proud of her gradually, when by and by I realised that for a person her age, and her era, getting a bachelor's degree and teaching in a college was such a big thing, yet she did it.
Married at an age of 13 years, when she still played with dolls, and going on to finish her studies and then become a lecturer was an achievement for which I guess her husband and my late grandfather should also be commended
She was a mother-in-law at the age of 39 and a grand mother at 41 and then a widow at 47. She lived next 35 years of her life moving round to all her children houses, sometimes feeling loved but many a times she felt like a burden,neglected....cos in our society a woman without a man is made to feel like that. And she being someone who held herself in a very high esteem, would feel that more often than others.
When she felt most dejected, she would sometimes quote this couplet from Bahadur shah zafar "ना किसी की आँख का नूर हूँ, ना किसी के दिल का करार हूँ " (I am not the light of anyone;s eye, nor solace for any heart)
For her final journey all her children (my mom, 3 of my aunts and their husbands, her son and his wife) were there, along with some of us grandchildren.
We all sat around her body, the whole night, one last time...talking about her, her humorous nature, her distaste for anything below her level of decency, her desire to be always around people, her idiosyncrasies and her undaunted love. There were times when all of us broke into peals of laughter talking about her, and then the very next moment everyone would go teary eyed.
It felt like we were circling around a huge mammoth mass of sadness, scared to poke it, gently touching it with memories, to sooth our hearts and stopping it from tearing us apart
When her body was taken away, my mom and all my aunts held each other and cried like a baby...and as we grandchildren stood aside and watched them, I thought that losing a mother is a grief only her children would ever know. A space noone can enter, the sadness noone else can fathom. only the ones who are her kids, her babies
She was a woman, quirky, whimsical, stubborn, talented, loving, possessive, disciplined, adorable...sometimes disliked, sometimes looked up-to, sometimes she made some jealous...and much much loved..Amma
I still recall the way she would sometimes ask me, when we met after long
"कुछ कह सु ..." (Share something Su..)
Till we meet again..and share our anecdotes, our loves, our chitchat..once again..like million years before
