The wools in the winter were permanent, she would knit and I would follow her in perfect union. She knitted for me, and I for my dolls. Her sewing machine that till date I haven’t seen like any other, kept us hooked and engaged throughout the day. The first event of the school when I had participated, I drove her crazy I still remember. The crown of the princess that she had made herself was torn apart for I had worn it playing for long hours, making her rework on it, besides her daily errands.
I hardly write about her or mention her in the posts. I live with her. She lives in me. A silent and a person of quietude she is. Simplicity and signs of unseen worries have been her natural adornments. Her care and love for me are pouring and natural. A personal lockdown that I always felt along with her since the tragedy. Not very inviting and engaging that she presents and send those vibes, sometimes I feel.
The lines of faith that were initially imposed on her, somehow have sharpened the colour and contours of her face. Since the loss of my siblings, it took her ages to come out of that grief. Insecure though, she feels till today. And because the loss was irreparably deep, I somehow become the most possessive for her. The incidents marked lasting imprints on her psyche, the pain, unsaid, that made her live or should I write relive the event and moment for ages.
There are unturned and unread pages from her life. A complexity inside her that makes her a secret and enigma for me and for many at home.
Despite every loss, she smiles and lives. When I am lost, most of the time when I am with myself to find myself, she connects me and reminds me of my responsibilities and duties. A series of everyday work that hasn’t ingrained in me because of her presence may be. She would do, or she would take care, this has still been my attitude. It’s her presence may be. Or I haven’t grown for her consciously.
The message in the morning prompted me to write about her. We are silent admirers of each other.
Mother:
She gives life, she nurtures life. It’s difficult to put into words the persona of who she is and what she does for us! Her selflessness, love ineffable, care, guidance, the wisdom of the world, waves of laughter memorable, playing with us, making and shaping us, allowing us to be what we want to be, talking, sacrifices, role model, a friend, a teacher, a sage and a philosopher, embodiment of everything she is for us!
A day to celebrate the divinity, motherhood inside each one of us. A day to reflect on our journey as a mother. Mother, who is she?
Wishing a very prosperous and happy Mother’s Day!
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