"Enough! I am sick of it now", I scream and slam the door of my room, closing all the three latches one after the other. Sulking, I hit the sack. No amount of mollycoddling would pacify me this time. In a fit of vengeance, I swear, "Come what may, this time I'll have it my way, no matter how much it hurts you".
My mother keeps pleading with me to open the door. But I give a damn. After a few minutes of repeated banging, she heads towards the kitchen. It's dinner time and dad would be here any moment. I hear the pressure cooker's whistle blow. A minute later, another blow. A few more seconds, and this time it's a loud 'thud'. I spring from the bed, jump towards the door, my heart racing. I know what has happened but I pray that I am wrong. I rush towards the kitchen and as soon as I am about to witness what my eyes just refuse to see, I open my eyes wide open, "Thank God, it's just a dream!"
There are moments in life when we actually 'real-eyes' the importance of our near and dear ones. How much they mean to us and how incomplete we would be without them. I have always been a problem child for my parents. No, I wasn't a spoiled kid. But I have always had tough time expressing myself or better put, conveying myself the right way. Mom had to struggle, try everything to get to the root and understand what was on my mind. Today, almost ten years away from home, if there is anyone who can understand me, even without me having to say a word, it's my mom. And the dream I just mentioned was an eye opener for me. A realization, how much she means to me. It's such an irony, that people who care for us the most, who love us the most are the ones who are the first to be taken for granted by us. We do care about them or should I say we feel that we care for them. But in reality, we just think of them, miss them, talk to them and get on with our lives. This dream shook me. When I woke up, I was crying and I cried a river. That one moment in my dream when I felt that I had lost my mom, redefined me. "I am because of my mom and I owe my existence to her."
This blog is both a confession and a thanksgiving to my mom. And I get the inspiration to write about it from Sony's Jhalak Dikhla Ja dance performance by Sushaant. His mystical performance to the tunes of A.R. Rehman's "luka chhupi bohat hui" created a pathos that literally gave me goose bumps and I could not help but open my heart writing this blog.
Since childhood, I have always been pampered by all except my mother. She is a tough lady. As a child, if there was anybody who could ever dare to slap me or even shout at me, it was my mom. And when she did that, I would run to my grand mother, crying, complaining (basically, creating a mountain out of a mole hill) and when she would scold my mom I would say "1 all". What a devil I was!
Being the elder of the two kids, most of the times I had to suffer for all the mischiefs that my brother did. I hated it when mom said,"The bigger you are growing, the smaller your brain is becoming" . But being the devil I was, I used to speak in my mind, in retaliation, "The older you are growing, the crazier you are going".What impudence!
In my early teens, mom suddenly became a trainer instructing me on everything that I did. I used to boil with rage when I had to make chapatis for dinner. Not that she was lazy or we didn't have a domestic help, but to imbibe in me a sense of responsibility and ingrain qualities that a typical Indian girl is expected to possess. I hated it, because that was 'prime time' on TV and I had to miss few of my favorite shows! I used to deliberately burn a few rotis, hoping that she would not like dad being served coal and carbon after a long busy day in office and would relieve me from the duty. How cunning I was!
But had it not been for her toughness, I would have been a complete brat. If there is abit whiff of feminine touch to my otherwise tomboyish looks and ways, it is because of my mom. She has always expressed her love and affection in subtle ways. I never went off to bed without a lullaby. As I grew up, the lullabies were substituted first by bhajans then by poetry and later by soft soothing songs. Today, if there is anything that gives me peace after my mom's embrace is music. She used to scold me but she was the one who used to fight for me with the neighbors...I was always breaking flower pots with my sixes and other kids were always cribbing for the balls that flew out of our compound into other territories to be gone for ever :-D
Be it the flair for writing, music, sports, painting, any thing, all comes to me genetically from my mom. She is the real owner. Her perseverance, her dexterity, her gumption are worth emulating. A beautiful lady, with a beautiful heart and soul, she is someone you can never forget. She is one amazing woman whose presence and absence are equally felt. No doubt she has a huge fan following:)
I am sorry mom, sorry for having troubled you as a child. Sorry for not having listened to you at times.Sorry for making you cry too but I promise, will never ever hurt you again, knowingly or unknowingly. You are my God, and will forever be!
Thank you mom for world so sweet
Thank you mom for food I eat
Thank you mom for world that sings
Thank you mom for everything
तू मेरी रूह में बसी है,
मेरा हर कतरा है तेरा कर्ज़दार
तेरा ही टुकड़ा हूँ
तुने ही मुझे संवारा है
ज़िन्दगी की मुश्किल राहों में
तेरी ही सीख का सहारा है
हर कोई चाहता है छीनना
नीयत है कहाँ बांटने की
लड़ झगड़ कट कर जीते हैं लोग
एक तू है जो देते थकती नहीं.
माँ तुझे सलाम!
My mother keeps pleading with me to open the door. But I give a damn. After a few minutes of repeated banging, she heads towards the kitchen. It's dinner time and dad would be here any moment. I hear the pressure cooker's whistle blow. A minute later, another blow. A few more seconds, and this time it's a loud 'thud'. I spring from the bed, jump towards the door, my heart racing. I know what has happened but I pray that I am wrong. I rush towards the kitchen and as soon as I am about to witness what my eyes just refuse to see, I open my eyes wide open, "Thank God, it's just a dream!"
There are moments in life when we actually 'real-eyes' the importance of our near and dear ones. How much they mean to us and how incomplete we would be without them. I have always been a problem child for my parents. No, I wasn't a spoiled kid. But I have always had tough time expressing myself or better put, conveying myself the right way. Mom had to struggle, try everything to get to the root and understand what was on my mind. Today, almost ten years away from home, if there is anyone who can understand me, even without me having to say a word, it's my mom. And the dream I just mentioned was an eye opener for me. A realization, how much she means to me. It's such an irony, that people who care for us the most, who love us the most are the ones who are the first to be taken for granted by us. We do care about them or should I say we feel that we care for them. But in reality, we just think of them, miss them, talk to them and get on with our lives. This dream shook me. When I woke up, I was crying and I cried a river. That one moment in my dream when I felt that I had lost my mom, redefined me. "I am because of my mom and I owe my existence to her."
This blog is both a confession and a thanksgiving to my mom. And I get the inspiration to write about it from Sony's Jhalak Dikhla Ja dance performance by Sushaant. His mystical performance to the tunes of A.R. Rehman's "luka chhupi bohat hui" created a pathos that literally gave me goose bumps and I could not help but open my heart writing this blog.
Since childhood, I have always been pampered by all except my mother. She is a tough lady. As a child, if there was anybody who could ever dare to slap me or even shout at me, it was my mom. And when she did that, I would run to my grand mother, crying, complaining (basically, creating a mountain out of a mole hill) and when she would scold my mom I would say "1 all". What a devil I was!
Being the elder of the two kids, most of the times I had to suffer for all the mischiefs that my brother did. I hated it when mom said,"The bigger you are growing, the smaller your brain is becoming" . But being the devil I was, I used to speak in my mind, in retaliation, "The older you are growing, the crazier you are going".What impudence!
In my early teens, mom suddenly became a trainer instructing me on everything that I did. I used to boil with rage when I had to make chapatis for dinner. Not that she was lazy or we didn't have a domestic help, but to imbibe in me a sense of responsibility and ingrain qualities that a typical Indian girl is expected to possess. I hated it, because that was 'prime time' on TV and I had to miss few of my favorite shows! I used to deliberately burn a few rotis, hoping that she would not like dad being served coal and carbon after a long busy day in office and would relieve me from the duty. How cunning I was!
But had it not been for her toughness, I would have been a complete brat. If there is a
Be it the flair for writing, music, sports, painting, any thing, all comes to me genetically from my mom. She is the real owner. Her perseverance, her dexterity, her gumption are worth emulating. A beautiful lady, with a beautiful heart and soul, she is someone you can never forget. She is one amazing woman whose presence and absence are equally felt. No doubt she has a huge fan following:)
I am sorry mom, sorry for having troubled you as a child. Sorry for not having listened to you at times.Sorry for making you cry too but I promise, will never ever hurt you again, knowingly or unknowingly. You are my God, and will forever be!
Thank you mom for world so sweet
Thank you mom for food I eat
Thank you mom for world that sings
Thank you mom for everything
तू मेरी रूह में बसी है,
मेरा हर कतरा है तेरा कर्ज़दार
तेरा ही टुकड़ा हूँ
तुने ही मुझे संवारा है
ज़िन्दगी की मुश्किल राहों में
तेरी ही सीख का सहारा है
हर कोई चाहता है छीनना
नीयत है कहाँ बांटने की
लड़ झगड़ कट कर जीते हैं लोग
एक तू है जो देते थकती नहीं.
माँ तुझे सलाम!
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