A tribute to my mother, and every mother in this world

!My way of wishing her a Happy Mother's Day!

*This is the unabridged version of the article which was published in The Hindu (South India’s national English daily) on 27^th April 2013, "The World's Toughest Job"*

 

 I was led to write on this issue after I saw an ad which went viral on facebook. I even posted it on my wall, got a couple of likes and comments. One of them wrote: "Awww". Frankly, that's the only non-lexical filler I could utter after watching the video.

24x7x365 work with no breaks. No holidays. No salary.

This is just the glimpse of what is the world's toughest job. Yes, toughest. And all of us undermine it. Moms, or mothers (being honorific) do that job, the toughest job.

  

So; after the video, my mind started a slideshow of all things my mom did for me. Staying awake for consecutive nights when I was sick, bearing the brunt of my father's anger when I did wrong, wiping off my s#it and throw-up (I was too young back then). And now I scold her shouting, "Mom! You don't understand!". Don't understand what? She understood my emotions when I was nothing but a bag of flesh and bones who only uttered meaningless sounds! But that is different, right?

The slideshow continued. She was there at the best times of my life. When I scored distinction in my board exams, when I got placed in Goldman Sachs, and when I was out of home for a 2-night camp. She as there at the worst times of my life also, when I scored amazingly low in IITJEE and CAT. Of course even Dad was with me all along (certainly not undermining his role). But yes, somewhere I have a special place for my mom.

They say, you don't understand things fully if you can't express them in words. Well, I can't understand my mom. She gives me all that paneer sabzi and I happily gorge on it. Then does she come with chapatti and pickle. I ask her, "why?", referring to the paneer sabzi. She replies, "Oh, I know you like paneer so much. Moreover, I am fine with pickle". I highly doubt if I'd do the same if I were at her place. Self-less is the least virtuous word you can use to describe her.

There were days when I felt very low and even my mirror couldn’t see through me. My mom did. The other day, she sat next to me and asked, “Do you like somebody? Should I talk to father about it?” I exclaimed, “Hell no!!! why would I hide such a thing from you? I’m fine. Really”, I stuttered and stammered all along. She asked, “Tell me”. Whatever I told her next is part of the confidential agreement which I and my mother honor; but yes, I still wonder how in the world she knew about it.

This does not stop here. Even when I was in Bangalore for a good nine months, she’d know it somehow when there was anything wrong. One night, I was feeling unimaginably low. I was sitting in the aisle of a temple, whose doors were closed for the day. “Where are you? How are you? I did not have a good feeling about you, that’s why I called up”, mom called up. I recall that moment now, and call it the life-saver moment.

I really don’t know why I’m typing all of it here for the known strangers to see. I do know why. But it’s hard to admit. The fact is that I feel awkward in thanking mom for all the things she’s ever done to me and all that she’s to do tomorrow. Call it shyness. I always think, “she knows that I love her. Is it necessary to tell her every instance?” Frankly, yes. Even if she knows it, she’d be glad to hear it every time. I’m gonna try being more expressive, and tell her that I love her!

Then I look out of the window, and see mothers everywhere. A cow feeding it's calf, a bird feeding her offspring with the pre-digested food, a day laborer toiling full day and getting her son a 5-star. Words fail me beyond that. I wish I could tell the entire universe that my mom is the best! No, not 'my' mom. Every mom is the best! My soul shouted, "Maaa!". The cow mooed along with me.

I was muttering to myself these words when I fell asleep over the couch, with a bag of pop-corn in hand and a laptop over my belly. I wake up the other day -- in my bedroom, with the pop-corn bag emptied in an air-tight container, and the laptop neatly kept charging (with the lid on and the keyboard covered, lest dust should fall). I smirked, magic does exist.