May 14, 2007 04:00 AM
4377 Views
I was told being on an exchange program would be the most wonderful thing that could happen to me. It would change my life, it would help me see the world from a different perspective, it would redefine my thoughts on life, blah-blah–blah. I heard it everywhere- in every orientation, from every returnee and in every little thought that raced through my head. It was exciting, and I was rearing to see myself change. Change completely and magically into this “new” person!
Yet it is amazing how nobody- not the thoughts, not the returnees and neither the volunteers- told me what the biggest change was going to be. They forgot to tell me how much I’d learn to appreciate what I had left behind. They forgot to tell me that I would learn what it is like to miss someone with all your heart. They forgot to tell me how I’d rediscover a mother’s love- halfway across the globe. They just forgot.
But I’m hoping I won’t. Ever.
…Not like the time when* I come home from school- all tired and ready to crash. And she’s made me hot lunch- pouring her whole days time into it- thinking about how tired her daughter would be, and how delighted she would be to eat something she loved, hot off the pan. But I just walk in, throw my backpack on the front porch and head for the bed- not stopping to even acknowledge her presence. She follows me and asks if I want to eat something- something that’s nice and hot, and I can go straight back to bed- it’ll make me feel better, she says. But I just lay there, eyes closed, and mumble a ‘no!’, turn my head and go right back to bed.
Now, I miss that hot food- the love that every morsel had in it, the care with which every spice was poured in- to get the perfect taste, and the concern that went into the gentle prodding to get me up to eat my lunch. And I make a promise to never again miss a meal made with that love.
…Not like the time when *I am sick. Very sick. She sits next to me and runs her fingers through my hair. Her eyes are full of concern and sadness. She looks at my feeble, pale body- and with her gentle fingers, gives me a body rub- ending with a kiss on the forehead. I slowly open my eyes, and she asks me what I want to eat. Knowing I’m too weak to reply, she gently asks what I want- lemonade? Warm water? Or something else that’s warm? Tears just roll down my eyes from the pain. She sees them, and feels her own welling with tears. And I see the helplessness in those eyes- wanting to make me better- at any cost. She blames herself for being a doctor and not being able to get me better. She does everything she can, and I eventually get better. And I move on with life. No thank you. No hugs.
Now, when I fall ill, I miss that magic touch- that just made everything so much better, I miss the loving kiss on the forehead- that made me feel safe- through all the pain, I miss the look on her face that just told me that everything would be alright really soon- that just made me want to believe, and I miss being the center of the universe for someone- above all priorities, above everyone else. And I make a promise to say that ‘thank you’ and at least try to do the same when she is ill.
…Not like the time when *she comes back from a long day’s work, and finds the house in a mess- and both her children quarrelling. She loses her temper and shouts at me- being the elder one, the one to set an example- for being irresponsible. I yell back, telling her how she only knows how to spoil my day, to make it worse. I stomp out of the room and sulk- as she ends up cleaning the house.
Now, I miss her presence in the house, I miss her telling me wrong from right, and I miss how much she loves me no-matter-what. And I make a promise never to yell back- never to tell her that she makes my day worse- for there can be no bigger a lie.
…Not like the time when she puts together all my dresses for Navratri- wanting to make sure each one is just right for each day. After all, she wants her daughter to be the prettiest, the most well dressed, the happiest. And I get ready on the first day- putting on all the clothes and ornaments- and then decide I just don’t have the right make-up, or the right ornaments, OR the right dress! I start to cry, throw a tantrum, and walk out of the house in a foul mood. I go on to enjoy the night to the fullest, but she is left feeling sad and disappointed that her daughter isn’t happy.
Now, I miss the enthusiasm with which she buys clothes for me, the genuine pride with which she tells me I’m the prettiest, and the love with which she carefully gets me ready. I almost don’t feel like dressing up anymore- now that she can’t see me in that dress. I only think of the time I can go back home, put it on, and get showered with compliments from her- because they don’t get any sweeter! And I make a promise never to sulk when she tells me I look pretty- and a promise to know that I will always be her little princess.
…Not like the time when I come back from school- in a very obviously foul mood- having quarreled with a friend. Wanting to know what happened, she starts asking me questions. Reluctantly, I tell her what the matter is. She ponders for a while, and then tells me never to a certain thing again- wanting to protect me from similar hurt in the future. But I just start crying, and tell her how she never thinks I can do anything right.
Now, I miss someone telling me what not to do, I miss someone wanting to protect me from all hurt, and I miss someone having only my interest solely in mind. And I make a promise never again to question her advice- to never undermine that care she has for me.
I miss all those times when I told her everything- because she was the only one who could understand me, the only one I could confide into, I miss those long shopping sprees, those lazy afternoons of doing nothing, those rainy day movies, rides around the city on her Kinetic, and even the wonderful improvised meals off of leftovers from the previous night.
And I’m lucky I have a second chance. I really am.
I love you Amma! With all my heart… And nobody can ever take your place in my life- and it’s much too empty without it. I miss you, and wish you were her to share every joy, and every setback- because frankly, nothing’s complete without you. I wish I could give you a hug and tell you how much you really matter. But this is all I can do instead.
Happy Mother’s Day!
