Revival

Every day since the passing of my Mom, I wake up with a sinking feeling and it hits me she is no more. I feel I'm in a bad dream and all will be fine when I rouse. Unfortunately, it’s the other way around.

A lot of folks tell me I need to move on in my life and get stronger but define strong to me?
Is it - Not breaking down at the thought that you will never be able to share your thoughts with the person who always had time for you? Or accepting bravely, that the person who made you feel fine when everything around you was in turmoil, is there no more to guide you? Or is it realising that, your daughter’s wedding will now have to be planned without her insightful suggestions. The list is endless...

One of my siblings’ believes our Mom is watching us and that she is communicating with her through her meditative encounters – I so wish I could experience the same, but the finality of her death just does not allow me to disappear into the warmth of such a thought.

I am, of course slowly picking up the pieces of my life and there are good days and bad days, with the former exceeding the latter now.  I am happy - yes very, the love and support I enjoy, is an envious state of existence. Indeed, the people who love me have thoroughly spoilt me and, I decide to now surround myself with only those who feel nothing but that for me...

Life's too short - seriously and you do NOT need negative people in. Screw them! They don’t deserve you anyways.

2014 has made me stronger and I know my friends, relentless in their concern, not giving up on me, supporting me, rooting for me and making me happy. I have always been there for anyone who reached out to me - helping find their ungrateful children jobs, providing guidance and welcoming them in my home.  Hmmmm… perhaps it is the right time for me to truly evolve – I wish them well and move on to a smarter me :)

A lot of my friends vocalised their love and concern, engaging me while I was down, there were silent ones too (not all love and care need be vocal; in fact, I value it silent too). 

As I move on to being a better balanced person, I just want to say “I love you all” and you know who you are and I know you better today.

Thank you.

My mother

I am a moving mass of grieving wreck; everywhere, at every moment, I remember my mother’s loss and I break down right where I am; in the middle of the road, in the car, while speaking of her with a neighbour, a shopkeeper just about anyone. This display of grief intrigues a few interested passers-by, invites furtive yet unconcerned glances from a few others and all my efforts to be brave fail. The fragility of human life and the idea of losing someone so alive just a few weeks ago are too hard to overcome. It’s been two months and I’m still unsuccessful.

My mother was my inspiration, my pillar of strength, my good luck charm, my life and I wish I had told her all this more often and brought more smiles to her sweet face. A single mother armed with only a Hindi medium matriculation certificate from the ‘University of Punjab’, she faced many hardships and overcame each one of them with a brave smile and even braver heart.

At a tender age of twenty-one she lost both her parents, was married at twenty-three and travelled to London where she lived for a decade. The initial years saw her happy and her work made her independent. Her gorgeous Indian looks invited not only the attention but also marriage proposals from many local Englishmen and these anecdotes were a source of fun and laughter at many festive dinner parties. My elder sister and I were early arrivals and we had a lovely life in London till my eldest uncle remarried, and brought a despicable, nasty ‘Cruella’ to live in our family home, her manipulative politics drove my elegant mother to insist on a move, to either a separate home in London or a move back to India.

We arrived in Bombay; traumatic as it was, my sister and I were forced to adjust to the Indian culture. The biggest drawback of the relocation was - the Indian school ethos; from an independent, respectful student existence in London, I witnessed a convent of narrow-minded thought with zero respect for children. The concept of ‘shut-up and listen’ was alien in English schools, as was being ridiculed for expressing a point of view and to top that learning Marathi and Hindi at an advanced level that was the ‘icing’ of our problems… Adapting to the petty Indian convent teachers was singularly the toughest part of my return to India.

As we finally adjusted, there was a new turmoil in our lives, my father abandoned us and left my mother, she was only forty-three at that time. To say this shattered her would be expressing it mildly, her worry for her three young girls aged (eighteen, seventeen and eight) broke her secure existence and for the first time I saw my brave mother collapse. Seeing her anguish and despair, I made a promise to her then that she will never have to worry about anything once I started working and lived up to it. If there is one thing in life that I am proud of, is never letting her down on this count. 

These years of abandonment also brought with it a lot of financial stress, but we had each other and after our initial shock, I saw my mother pick up the pieces and show immense strength of character, loyalty, compassion, determination and love. She filled our lives with fun, adventure and joy, we did not have money but we had each other. She showed us how to be resilient, independent and self-reliant. From her savings, she spared no cost to give us three the best education she could manage after which her economic priorities graduated to saving for our marriages. Ask any parent or self-financing adult and they will confirm that managing one marriage takes the mickey out of you, my mother managed three. She did this with no financial help from any relative, the ones who helped took their pound of flesh (with interest), I realised then, that there are no free rides in this world. The life lesson I learnt was to be kind to those less fortunate and help as much as you can with no strings attached. I believe that people who care for you never need to be asked for anything (financial or emotional); they know it and reach out to you on their own somehow. My mother devoted her entire life to us and her only thought was for our well-being at the cost of her own, and she did all this on her own steam.

The web of support in my personal life has been incomparably amazing (the husband, the children, the sisters, a few cousins, my special friends Ayesha, Mariam and Seemin); all have been so wonderful these past two months. The messages, the letters, the innumerable phone calls, the patience with which they have encouraged me to heal in my own time, their unspoken understanding, care will stay with me forever. I will treasure these relationships always.

This loss of my mother has singularly, been the lowest point in my life, the darkest till date and the toughest to overcome. I know she was happy these past couple of decades and she always maintained that all her dreams had come true and all her wishes fulfilled. Yet she was too young to pass on. It is taking me long to get over the idea of my mother not being around anymore. It’s unimaginably empty without her warm, kind, thoughtful and unrelentingly supportive presence. I cannot envision birthday parties, festivals, celebrations without her. I miss the stories of her fun travels across the globe with all of us, (her daughters and their families)…… I simply cannot stop missing her.

I am also so grateful to this universe, for giving me a mother like her - a kiss to heaven for you my darling mom.