I have a picture of you draped in a bright red patola saree wearing an even brighter smile. I have always pictured you like that. Sans makeup, dainty hair and cheery spirit. I’m writing this letter to you because calling you at midnight will ruin your sleep. You’ll wake up at 6 no matter what, because duties.
I hate it when folks ask you what you do, and you say “Nothing, I’m just a housewife and a mother.” You’re not nothing.
This isn’t about a woman who left her passions and dreams aside to raise her kids and family for a healthy future but about a girl who was everything but ambitious. The girl who wanted to climb the mountains, travel the world fearlessly, dance to her heart’s content, teach and make merry but then life happened. I am just a reflection of you and like you wanted me to be, thanks for passing the cognitive skills in my genes. Here's just a little letter of things I could never say to you because you look great and young in that bright sunshine smile you wear.
Every time I see you, my heart pounds with innumerable emotions, all at once. You’re a place I call home and after a long toiling day, your heavenly lap puts me to sleep instantly. Your infectious energy that never dies down even when I ring the doorbell at odd hours and you greet me with a warm smile only to sit, chat and serve me dinner.
I still remember those long hours I cuddled with you during our bedtime story sessions and the touch of your mellow voice that transported me to the dreamy land. I wonder how you mastered the art of storytelling and putting every kid to sleep so effortlessly.
Thanks for being so patient, composed and calm during my “teenage years” when the adulthood struck me with angst and mood swings. You have forgiven every bratty comment, every slammed door and every unnecessary eye roll. Thank you for seeing the goodness in me when I least deserved it.
Thanks for being my pillar of support and strength during my tough college days while I gathered to pull myself up after those nasty breakups and bad grades. Your shoulder was the most comforting pillow to cry on and I truly miss those moments when you taught me to let go of the negative energies and embrace the positive ones.
How bravely you took my stand, fought for me and embraced my career when my job required me to travel often and settle overseas. You gracefully accepted everything and signed up for meeting me just a couple of times in a year. I know it must be shattering and heart-breaking, yet you never shed a tear, you’re not alone a mother but a HERO for me.
“Yes, I took my meds and cooked myself a healthy meal.” I lied to you on some nights. But, you must stop lying to yourself. I remember amidst everything. Amidst everything. I hope you remember the little girl in you who loved her diary and pen way more than anything else in the world. She, who rhymed words and loved alliterations, the beautiful metaphors and verses, you remember “The Night of the Fall”? I read it discreetly.
Honestly, every single day, when you were getting ready, draping the saree in seconds and making your hair in a perfect croissant bun, I took notes of every fall, every pleat immaculately tucked inside safely secured with a pin. Just like your eternal beauty that will never fade out and outshine everyone. And today, when I am invited to a dinner or event, I always choose a saree and drape it how you do because I got a little bit of you in me.
I really wish you go back to your roots and follow your dreams again. Pick up that pen and write a song, read your favourite Jeffery Archer or just plan an impromptu getaway with dad. Be that cool girl again. You don’t need permissions. Just a little push.
Wishing all you beautiful moms everywhere on the globe a very Happy Mother’s Day.