Amma and I were very different.
She grew up fatherless, having lost her father even before she was born. While she contentedly watched me grow up pampered as Daddy’s little girl.
She was cocooned in her village home till her marriage, fiercely protected by her adoring brothers and family. While she chose to let me roam freely, with me breaking most rules as I grew up.
She got her first pair of sandals on the day she left her village as a bride. While I must sheepishly admit that my annual purchases of footwear outdid her lifelong possession.
Her food tastes were exquisite but within a strict boundary of vegetarian, traditional cuisine. While she brought me up on a delicious diet of bakery items and went on to proudly declare that that her daughter would survive anywhere in the world with whatever edible item is there.
She shunned chocolates while ensuring that the fridge had a stock of it, for me to indulge in.
She took cookery classes for friends, and supplied delicious juices, jams, and relishes that one could not get even in supermarket those days. While I struggled to ensure the daily meals cooked by me were palatable.
She was quick with handwork, kolams and puzzles. And was amused at my attempts to break down her kolams to a geometric pattern and utterly fail to recreate it.
She was frugal and thought twice before spending money, while she gave free access to the money box to us kids and never questioned us on our expenses.
She had lovely thick dark smooth hair, so she claims before she started losing them after my delivery. It remained an unsolved puzzle to her on how to manage my coarse curly unruly hair.
As I was struggling in my adolescent years to understand and accept my ‘no religion’ belief as my faith, she was safely ensconced in her prayers and rituals. She never failed to criticize me on my stand, but she never failed to surprise with her extremely compassionate gestures to people in need, irrespective of caste and creed.
And she did not let her faith overshadow any of our accomplishments. As friends and family congratulated her on my academic successes, and attributed it to her prayers, she retorted that it was due to her daughter’s hard work.
She got married at 19 to a man whom she saw for the first time on the day of the wedding. And she stoically watched me reject proposal after proposal till I was 28 and take my sweet time to say yes finally.
It strikes me now that our love actually thrived on our differences! And it also strikes me that complimenting all our differences, I have inherited so many things from her, mostly without my knowledge.
As people compliment me on my skin and metabolism, I thank the lucky lottery that made her my mother.
As my kids roll their eyes when I insist on cleaning up, I recall how she would tuck her saree and start cleaning up the house and cupboard.
As I still struggle with everyday cooking, but venture adventurously to try out new dishes, I am reminded of her spirit in gathering new recipes and trying them out.
And we both agreed that a daughter will never appreciate her mother’s love till she has her own!
As people tell me how I love a good argument and will defend it to death, my mother’s uncompromising stand comes to my mind. And in one of her last arguments with me, she questioned why the science that I believe so much in, could not cure her. I grudgingly had to concede that there are things beyond science. But I could see that this was one argument which she wanted me to win and assure her that she will be cured, but alas, I lost that argument: in words and in spirit.
Amma passed away peacefully in her sleep on 25th December 2021 morning, after valiantly fighting cancer for close to five years.
So touching. I keep wanting to read it over and over again to feel her presence. But she is always in us- and I am blessed to share the same blood as you and her.
Yes Tarshu
I learnt from the article, we should stand together no matter what our differences. Differences built on love & truth breeds creativity in ideas, nurtures acceptance & tolerance.
I remember the time spent with her and your dad when we had gone for Arjun’s marriage she fed idli as soft as cotton and made many dishes much to our liking and took care of me and deepa as we were her son & daughter.
She is truly an angel.
Yes Nutty understanding that differences are to be nurtured and there can be harmony in living with them.
Ooops! This gives an account of life of both the mother and the daughter. Also, how the life has changed over times.
A great mother. My respects.
Wonderful article
Thank you Sir for all the support at work during the tough times.
A mother’s love and affection to her children is always a treasure to cherish as long as possible. She is the only human being in the world will pray for them and ready to relinquish anything for them.
May her memory linger much longer.
Very touching. Brought tears. Daughters speak more and more about their mothers…,more so once they are gone cos these mothers leave an indelible mark. We feel every act of ours is so similar to what she used to say and do.
She will always guide you all.
Well penned
உணர்ச்சி பிரவாகம். நேர்படப் பேசுதல். உங்களில் அவரையோ அவரில் உங்களையோ தேடும் முயற்சி இல்லாமல், அவர்கள் என்னென்னவாக இருந்தார், நீங்கள் எப்படியெப்படி இருக்கிறீர்கள் என்ற அடுத்தடுத்த இணை விவரிப்பு இரு வேறு வண்ணப் பூக்கள், வெவ்வேறு வாசம் கொண்டவை, அதனதன் நுட்பங்கள் இதழ்கள் வசீகரம் கொண்டவை சேர்த்துத் தொடுத்தது போல் மணம் வீசுகிறது கட்டுரை. மலரஞ்சலி தான் இது.
Thank you, your observation is very apt and beautifully expressed! Wish I can write in Tamil like this !