and I never told you this and I needn’t tell you this ever because you already know this.
She is a Super-Woman or an analogy closer home – The Durga Mata. I guess every mother is, mine isn’t any different.
And it hugely annoys me that she can’t leave that stupid home of hers and come live with me for an infinite time. That she is not here with me when I come back to home with a refreshing glass of Nimbo Pani/cold drink on hot days. Or listen to how my day had been. Or waiting to have a meal with all of us. That she isn’t here to mend my dress or fix my cold. Just like she was during my school days.
I left home when I was 17 or 18esh.. for further studies. Meh! And then I never went back. I completed my studies, met my husband, got married, visited home once or twice a year. And that’s how it has been since.
So literally, I have been missing her since I was 17.
I tell my husband, I was just bored with living out of the hostel, being a paying-guest, being with room-mates, the nomadic life of living away from home, that I agreed to marry him. I needed a home of my own. If I had been living with my Ma, my story would probably have been different. His reply “kidnap kar leta tujhko 😉”
That is utterly romantic ❤ . So I know I was destined to marry him, to have a life that I have now. I married the right guy.
But that doesn’t stop me from imagining.
I imagine a different course of my existence. One where I never left home, where am married closer home, where am with them for every festival, every small occasion, every birthday and anniversary. Where I don’t have to plan my vacation months in advance, book flight tickets. I imagine just booking a cab/ or driving to her home. I imagine picking up my bag and heading home, I imagine exchanging Meklahe Sadar with her, gossiping, cooking meals together.
None of which I can ever do in this lifetime.
All of which my sister is lucky to get with her. Damn!
Why don’t I? I remember a conversation I had with Pa when he said, why can’t I do all that and more? Why can’t I just pick up my bag, book a flight and come home? Isn’t that the reason why I left home in the first place? So I could be independent and follow what I really desire.
Am blabbing. No one will probably get this. I don’t get this. Why can’t I do that? Why am I pissed on the days that remind me of her? (Am pretty sure this is as my sis is visiting her for a month long vacation and am sweating out here).
Everyone leaves home for a better life. I have a better life. Am not the first person to do so. I have no reason for not just booking up the flight and reaching Ma. I don’t know why can’t I manage that now?
Today is Mother’s day and am surrounded by the content this day has generated on every feed, every chat, every social media. Do we need a special day for Mother?
No, A Mother is special every-day.
Yes, because I never told her how awesome she has been, how much she had worked all her prime and how much she needs to think about herself now.
Even so, I don’t want her to think of herself. I want her to be my side. Living in the same city that I am. Not this far.
We They have a wonderful house at Assam. It is my parent’s blood and sweat. Their dream home and they moved into that place after my father’s retirement, which was much later after my wedding.
I live so far from her, that I no more dump my sob story on her, I feel a bit protective of her. Shielding her from my downs. I guess living on my own since 17 has made me as independent as my parents wanted.
Now that am a mother, I know I will always be there for my son. I don’t believe in long distance love 😉 he will have a hard time moving away from my nest.
But then he is a boy. A girl pines for her parent and a boy, well just don’t care. Sorry Boys 😉
I called Ma today and she was utterly busy with my sister and her twins. She was worried about my brother and she was going to cook dinner, fixing yard with Pa as a storm is approaching.
Day as usual for her.
Happy Mother’s Day Ma. I miss you.
Here is a Mother’s Day special from my 6-year-old boy. Aah.. he will never know the joy of leaving home. Literally 😉
Son: “Ma, What does comes first..the wedding or the kid?”
And my toughened Indian middle-class upbringing screams:
“Wedding son, definitely wedding! “