Understanding my mother

When we talked yesterday, I realized from what you said that my mother will be the only person on earth who will live up to my tantrums.

She is the only person who will still do everything to keep me happy. For better or for worse. Even though I may not be the best person at the time of my stupid, invalid, stubborn, out-of-my-head tantrums.

She is the only person who will cry with me when I cry. She will be the only person to stand by me even though she won’t understand a thing I say.

What makes this bond so strong? Her hug. Her kiss. No matter how ugly I look. No matter how many of her dreams have I broken, and thrown away to the wind. Whether she has a right to dream for me is another matter altogether.

A mother-child relationship is one of the purest relationships ever designed. It is unconditional. Unconditional as in it is purely a selfless extension of self.

I know my mother is not the best mother on earth though she does come close. She is not at all perfect. She, in fact, is not even the kind of woman I would like to marry. But she has few qualities that make her stand apart.

She could have, if she wanted, changed the world. But she has managed to change me. Mould me in some ways into what I am now. She never insisted that I should be religious or visit temples. She gave me that freedom of choice with regard to food, religion, and dress at an age when most parents will shove down their beliefs on their kids.

I did my Jr. KG and Sr. KG in BKS School! Ugghh!! Yuck! It was she who secured my admission into St Augustine’s High, when my dad was busy working for the chutiya samajam! She must have struggled, stood in queues, and mumbled in her then bad Hindi-English mix! But somehow she did it for me.

And my schooling has been an inspiration. I got the best all-round education in this country. And met Br John Anthony Keane who induced my love for poetry and literature. “I would love reading The Solitary Reaper than watching Jurassic Park!” his words still ring in my ears whenever I feel my poetry is not being heard.

My mother had starved so that I can eat well enough. There were times when she ate only rice so that I can have the sambar and uperri. I have walked miles to call a doctor to get my mother cured. I still will.

Amma, I love you. I miss you when I am lonely, cold, and a chut of a man. I know I have not been the best son…

But just hug me once again. Because this son of yours has chosen the unbeaten path: the path of the love that consumes.

Your son loves a woman you would not love in an instant. That woman is your son’s life, amma. She is my only god. She is the only one I bow to. Not you, amma.