Mother was here with me for ten days. Tomorrow she is going. I am a little sad. It’s true that I am not a kid anymore. In fact, after 3rd January I advanced one more year to my bohemian disposition. But don’t I want to return to my childhood once again? Isn’t it true that I behave irrationally when mother is around, almost half expecting her to box my ear or give me a cold look of disapproval? I was so shit scared of her iron rules when I was a little boy!
I found it quite amazing how she is now depending on me. When she was crossing the road, she was looking at me for my approval, even if the road was free of traffic. I had to finally hold her hand and walk with her. I felt pity for my poor mother. She is a typical Indian woman. She was good in studies, but had to marry according to her parent’s wish at eighteen and give up education to raise a family. I was the first borne. she was only nineteen and half.
Like all other, my first teacher was mother. She was a very demanding teacher. I always hoped for father to come and rescue me from the torture that is mathematics. Never suspected that those were the grand scheme of things of my papa dearest!
Now, when I look back, I realize she never used to do a thing without her husband's permission. Now that I have grown up and started earning and started giving her money, she is looking at me for permissions and direction to her life. I was afraid of her, almost always cursed her for being so tough on me. Now I wanted to cry. What an injustice we have done to her! For our sake an intelligent girl sacrificed her dreams, self-respect, and independence. Soon she was programmed by our society to make her husband’s and children’s dreams as her own. As if she is the sole person responsible to fulfill those.
For every good thing, to make materialize a wish, you need to sacrifice an animal to the alter of God. We, Indians, for ages immemorial have sacrificed the women of our family. We have worshipped her the most remembering her sacrifice. We have cursed her the most for failing to sacrifice. Aren’t we a race of bastards?
Mother, you are returning tomorrow to a place where you are the most happiest. To your husband’s place in Calcutta. You have seen your first child is doing well here. Now you will be happily bragging about him back there. You never realized your palace is your prison. When you would smile there thinking of me…I would cry here thinking of your unfelt pain.
Be well Maa. I have loved you like I loved nobody in this world. Not even myself. I will do everything to make your dreams come true. Your few remaining fractured dreams. I swear.