Super Mom

Mom's not the typical mother. She never has been.

At 23, I find myself narrating to her incidents that took place in my
sixth standard, how I coped with exams in class 7, how I failed for the
first and last time in Maths, how much I worked as a prefect?Ma was
always there - and still never was.

I served food for myself when I came home from school, I completed my
homework on my own, I made my own cup of Bournvita in the evenings and
rocked myself to sleep at night. Daddy ferried me to school and back
till I got my own bicycle, he would always be at the parent teacher
meetings, he attended each sporting event I participated in, he gleamed
with pride at the awards functions and never missed any of my concerts.
And no, he was not a house dad. He also had a job to take care
of.

In spite of Dad's omnipresence, I missed Ma.

Each of my friends could spot my father from a distance - almost as
well as they could find their own dads in a crowd. As for Ma? They
would meet her too - once every year. On my birthday parties. She would
play the perfect hostess looking after each of my guests with cheerful
maternal affection. She would make sure each and every person felt at
ease. She played games with them. She made fabulous snacks. She cracked
jokes and made them squeal with laughter. Ma was a complete hit with my
cronies. They loved her!

But I? I missed Ma.

Home Science classes were a nightmare because of her! We had to sew,
embroider, knit and paint! And it was not a problem with anyone in
class but me. I was a decent enough painter but the rest of the girlie
stuff? Eh! Everyone would submit fascinating mirror work cushions,
beaded purses, cross-stitched wall hangings and fancy frocks. And I
could only account for a straight-knit muffler, sloppy scarves and
painted pillow covers. I didn't have the kind of mom all of them
had.

Mine worked. Full time!

Yeah. Ma worked from nine to six, seven, sometimes eight in the evening
and then came back to attend to household chores. The moment she would
step in the house the air would become electric. The vegetables had to
be chopped and the buckets filled between seven to nine for the
following day's needs. While dinner was prepared she also had to make
provisions for the next day's breakfast and lunch. All I remember of Ma
in those days were glimpses of her scuttling from the kitchen to the
porch tap.

Dinnertime was when Ma and Daddy could catch up with each other's lives
while I flipped channels hoping that something would take my mind off
their conversations. She never asked me how my day was. She did not
know about my assignments. She was not aware that her daughter felt
more at home while in school. But she did kiss me good night without
fail. That was always the last thing she did to end her day. And
mine.

But?I missed Ma.

My last award function at school - as I stepped onto the stage to
receive the Best Student award my eyes searched the auditorium even
though I knew she wouldn't be there. I saw Daddy wearing his best navy
blue suit and sporting his widest grin. He looked fatter that day. Or
maybe he was just swelling with pride. And just as my lips curved to
flash a smile back at him, I saw her. Ma had come. She had taken half a
day off from office to be part of her only child's moment of glory. My
mom was there.

Three years of graduation and a year of computing saw the same moments
flash by. Daddy would still take me to college at times and Ma would
still be scampering between the kitchen and the porch tap. I had become
used to all of it. I guess it was routine. And it would have carried on
thus had I not landed myself a job away from my hometown. Ma was the
Chief Manager of her bank now and was lined up for a promotion that
would surely have her relocated to a metro city. Daddy could not shift
base. All three members of our family would be in different parts of
the country. It was a tough call.

Ma resigned.

She gave up her job so that our family life would not be disturbed. She
committed twenty-eight years of her life to the bank and then at the
prime age of 48 she quit. It's been a year and a half now that she has
assumed the role of a housewife. And she is revelling in it. I left my
job and came back home after ten months of working full time because I
wanted to study further. And in these past seven months Ma and I have
relived the past 22 years of our lives. I have taken her back to my
school and shown her each of my classes. She has met some of the
teachers who taught me and we have had a good laugh reminiscing how I
fainted during the dissection hours in the Biology Lab. Ma and I have
watched movies together. We have gone out window-shopping just to while
away our time. We have had impromptu dine out lunches. Ma and I have
bonded.

All these years I thought Ma never cared without realising how much she
did. I focussed only on my needs and forgot to take into cognisance
that she was also a human being. It's not easy to shoulder the
responsibilities of being a homemaker, a wife, a mother and an
employee. It is difficult to be on your toes all the time and yet
please everybody. It is certainly a daunting task to brave the
challenges on the work front and not have a helping hand at home. I
know now how much it hurt her not to be able to take time out to attend
my scholastic events. I understand now how much she wanted to be a part
of all my achievements. I know Ma wanted to help me.

And she did.

By not knitting a beaded purse for me, she made me realise that I
should be responsible for my own work. By not monitoring my studies she
made sure I honoured my commitments myself. By not pampering me with
maternal indulgences, she made me wiser. By not escorting me to my
coaching classes or elsewhere, she helped me brave the world. By not
wiping my tears she helped me become stronger. By not interfering in my
decisions, she prompted me to discover myself. By not infringing upon
my privacy, she taught me to respect everybody's private lives. By
letting me do what I wanted to, she let me tap my potential.

Ma was always there. It's just that I was not mature enough to see
her.

As I pack my bags to leave home once again I want to tell you Ma that I
love you. I do not know if I have been able to live up to your
expectations but I do know that I have tried to make you proud. I have
learnt a lot from you, Ma. The primary lesson being that of "giving".
You have been the anchor in our lives and have given Daddy and me the
support and love that only you could. You have helped me find my wings.
And you continue to inspire me to fly.

I will miss your good night kiss Ma.

I will miss YOU.