Mom & Me

Mom is someone who could put things right. Her mere presence guaranteed an aura of calmness and contentment and attention. As a child I only ever wanted to be like my Mom. Her long black hair, big eyes, wide smile and those lovely printed cottons - that was the just the physical manifestation of her. Her laugh, her presence which embodied contentment and completion to us, her lilting voice -  the house would echo silence in her absence.  Her smell was so special, food from her plate would taste divine. Just like the way my little one snuggles her face in my neck and loves my 'special' Mama smell.

A busy doctor, Mom's presence was very precious, because I did not have her all day. Maybe my brother and me never felt her absence since we had our grand mom and children are basically accepting to family situations where they are well cared for. She is an extremely easy person to talk with and when I brought friends home, they spoke more to her than me! She was a perfectionist and is even now troubled by short-cuts. I remember waiting impatiently for her to come home every evening, in the fading sunlight, and seeing her walk in her quick stride along the long road made me feel so relieved and glad that my Mother is coming home.

I don't think I was an easy child. Did not trouble my parents much on the studies front, but could be dreamy, sensitive, shy and stubborn - a difficult combination. Not that I remember my mother reproach me for that. I could read her face only too well and knew better to make her sad or unhappy. But what are children who don't test their parents.  I did disappoint her on a few counts, I think. Decisions on higher studies and work front. The fact that I chose to marry a boy of my liking, from another state. She gradually got used to the idea, and gave us her blessing. She did say I will have to make a lot of adjustments from my side and wished it could've been easier.

She has always been amazed by my ability to keep house, cook, work, manage social obligations to the minimum extent I did undertake them. And she openly said so. I, on the other hand, would sulk and object to this sentiment, protesting I am a functioning adult. And then promptly call her up for advice on a recipe or recommendation for a medicine. It was she who came here and held my 1st baby in the operating room. She managed the house, the baby and everything else when I was recovering from my c-section and battling post-natal depression in an alien country. Never questioned my decision to move here to be with the husband, when I was all of 7 months pregnant.

Those 3 months she was with us, was the first time I stayed with Mom for so long in many years. When colicky Big G would succumb to sleep, we would too and catch each other getting up to take a peak at her. I remember how I was even scared to handle my own baby and slowly overcame that. Flavored yoghurts, kiwis and hazelnut chocolates - she particularly loved those. She laughed at my hourly obsession with baby milestones or the silly fights we would have as a couple. My big regret is not being able to show her around even a bit, as it was the peak winter season here. Ditto for the 2nd baby when we landed bag and baggage chez parents for a good 7 months.  We all survived the fun and travails of having a 2.5 yr old and a newborn at home. I was not chided for naming Big G 'seetra' in her all-green jealous avataar as older sibling. But I was vocally admonished in being careless enough to let lil G fall and bump her head.

Now that I've somehow muddled along so far, she thinks I've turned out ok. Of course our relationship has changed, enough to notice. We seemlessly interchange roles of traditional parent-child and often meet as friends, maybe sisters. She confides more in me and I am her sounding board. We tease each other and laugh at each other. Of course, now along with my brother and myself, she has added two more little people in her circle. Phone-calls and skype calls are only to talk about the little ones, and I do feel side-lined sometimes :) Talking with Nani means demand for sakkar-paras, puris, to show off new bruises and gain sympathy, and display random craft-work. I am waiting impatiently for these trans-generational exchanges to finish, just so I can have my mother to myself.  Because though I am a mother, I am still a child at heart. And don't like to share my Mom easily.

First posted at IndianMomsConnect here