Trigger warning: death
My forehead was throbbing with pain last night, quite a usual occurrence. As I lay motionless, feeling the nerves banging against my skull, I was transported back to those afternoons when my mother narrated the stories of her life.
Suddenly, I could almost hear her voice echoing in my head: “Pain and suffering are as important as any other part of your life. Enjoy it and don’t give it too much attention. Get up or get some rest.”
My mother was one of the most beautiful and meritorious women I have seen in my life. The beauty I am referring to here, is not just her physical attributes. Her supple skin and round body were accompanied by immense strength, both mental and physical, and a warm heart.
She had the gift of making everyone feel comfortable around her. Her heart went out to the: fruit seller who just had a cataract operation; domestic worker for whom she made lime water in summers; dog that had nine pups in her garage; pigeons who loved getting fed by her. She was everyone’s soul mate.
My Mother Rose Above Her Humble Circumstances
My mother was the third daughter in her family, followed by two more sisters. She grew up in a patriarchal household where choices were dependent on circumstances and affordability.
She never visited a restaurant or a salon before marriage, and even dressed up all by herself on her wedding day.
Mom was immensely gifted in geography and her files, which I saw, later on, were as neat as a starched and pleated saree. Unfortunately, circumstances fell out of order and she had to take up law.
Having weak health and an unfortunate rank of birth, I saw her being underestimated, taunted and scolded all her life. She never reacted. My mother believed, that every adversity has its own charm and value. What we call today: making lemonade out of the lemons life gives you. It’s all about perception.
My Mother Became A Lawyer While Pregnant With Me
She married the man of her choice, my father, and had her fairy tale built on little memories.
No, I am not portraying her as a victim. This, she called life. She was a fierce woman who took life as it came and fought it head-on. She started studying law and during her final semester, found out about her first pregnancy, me.
The bulging womb and sagging career gave her many restless nights. The body itched like tree bark and food became her biggest enemy. Amidst all this, she decided to complete her degree in law. She sat all night, making her notes and fanning herself.
Five months passed and when it was her seventh month, she went for her final exams. Those flying colours and the straight-faced Bar Council identity card, scream about her success, sleepless nights, hard work and spirit. This is the woman I call my mother.
My Mother Passed On Her Strengths To Us
Last year, when we went to her prayer meet at the court, instead of her absence, we felt a reassuring success. We could feel everything that she had achieved—the love, wishes and warmth. She was not a mother, wife, or daughter there, she was a woman.
All those afternoons, when she looked up at the ceiling and narrated these stories, I felt as if she wanted women to hear her tale. She wanted me to echo her voice in a way that every woman stands up for herself. My mother’s life was full of small joys and victories.
She was taunted for not knowing English and that I wouldn’t get through a convent because of it. I studied there for 14 years and my teachers loved my mother more than me. My brother and I used to get irritated when she made us appear for weekly tests despite having fever or bruised knees.
At times, we fought with her for being too strict about our careers. But, little did we know: those were strengths she was passing on to us.
My Mother Taught Me The Value Of My Art
On September 13, 2020, she got back after travelling for three hours for my brother’s entrance exam. She was exhausted, but did not forget to make his “motivation meal” for dinner. These were her gestures of appreciation: a 5 star chocolate, hug or our favourite meal. No expensive gifts or vacations.
That was the last meal she cooked and we tasted. The next day, in the morning, she dragged herself down the stairs, refusing any help and using all her willpower to walk straight. She refused to give up when we searched for hospital beds and medication. She refused to let us break.
Just after two hours, the universe needed her strength more than we did. She held my hand tightly and went on her new journey… Fearless and strong!
I remember the last conversation I had with her. She was looking at my painted canvas and said: “Do not give your talent to anyone who doesn’t value it. It is something that belongs to you… Only you.”
My Mother Lived A Short But Magnificent Life
Today, her embroidered bedspread, table covers with neat kantha stitches, the leather-bound criminal law books, and her spice box with the aroma of her cooking, lie still. Each of them were touched by a woman who lived a short but magnificent life.
She was a mother who taught her daughter to: be independent at any cost, value talent over material gifts, love life before living it, accept life as it comes, and not have any regrets.
Her hearty laughter, which echoed in every corner of the room, was full of thoughts, perceptions and keen observations of the world around her. Today, the world that she nourished, celebrates her.
Happy mother’s day!