I feel blessed…

 

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So many blogs and so much is written on this, even the topic sounds cliche…And if this is the fact of the matter then what is it that is moving me rather stirring me to write on this. The driving force may be the stage of the life I am in and the name of the game is motherhood. I want to pour my heart out on this as per my own reminiscences. Because I might write on hundred odd things but if I leave this topic, I will be forgoing one of the most responsible, delicate yet fulfilling element of my life. I don’t want to sound it like as if motherhood is a Herculean task as Hercules was no woman.

It was almost about six years back that I heard this feeble shrill cry of a newborn. The sound was distant yet effective infiltrating through my heart especially when I was in the state where half of my viscera was wide open and half of my senses ran down by anaesthetic…the pain was caged with drugs. But amidst all this happenings, the little conscious i was left with and all that I remember… I felt choked and the feeling of fighting for each breath was that much imminent. It was then that I heard Dr. Kini, my obstetrician saying,

“Hey Chaitali, you have a baby boy!…….”

But these words changed my life forever…
Sincerely, this was the best line said to me ever by anyone in this lifetime even better than my husband recommending to me…. ‘Let’s get married.’

That I was still at delusional stage and in the process of wearing out of the sedatives ..that I am a mother now and I have a son…..the awareness descended into me hours later when for the first time I took my lil urchin on my arms struggling and helping to latch him for his first feeding.
Ever since that day and now with every minute of being a doting being, one thing stays constant I am a mother and am responsible for my son’s life at least for next fifteen years and if you ask me… seriously, I introspect for this whole life..such is this bond or the tie that I feel wearied at one end and yet contended at the other.
AB is a bundle of hurricane….bright, nimble,mischievous, curious and seeks attention like any other kid of his age. But with great labour comes greater joy…and that’s what AB my son is for me ….pure unbound joy.

My last birthday was not just special but extra special. The hint of extra was the best B’day gift I ever got. Bouquets and B’ day wishes poured in from my family and close ones from morning…the air was warm. It was afternoon 3pm and I was engrossed in the kitchen giving final touch ups to my culinary skills as I have to be ready with my presentation for my hungry boy who will be returning from his school. AB came running hurriedly to the kitchen and asked me to serve my hands to him. I complied. He passed a half molten half intact piece of choclate into my hands ..his soft supple little palm was all squishy, stained and brown with choclate drippings. And he hummed gently HAPPY BIRTHDAY to you. Happy birthday to you MAA(we call mom as Maa in India).
It was a beautiful surprise. It was not only unexpected but also unfathomable coming from a five year old boy. i could not resist and tears of joy were my thank you to AB. When interrogated he said,” I got this in school but I kept it safe for you as today is your birthday.” He did made my B’ day extra special with his kind manner.

Instances like this and some gives solace to my worried mommy-heart that ‘yes he will be a good, responsible, sensible and compassionate being.’ But then it’s just an instance. Every day and every moment with him, I am conscious that I have to lend him values which will help him to sustain efficiently in this world on his own. And in turn he always teaches me a lesson or two…

When asked how is motherhood treating me! I always tell my friends I am still struggling. Each day I question myself. Sometimes I wish I could have done it little differently. At times I feel, could have wailed lesser or have been that extra bit collected . But each day I try to learn and grow to be a better mother. I know things will not be the same. He will grow up and hurdles will be new, challenges will be smarter too. And I will try with new zeal and vigour as for me nothing is more cardinal or imperative than his well being. A mother is a mother…heart made of pure gold, unadulterated love , rock solid reliability and intentions true. And I am aware and confident that I fit the genre. The live school of motherhood is teaching me this every moment every minute being with AB.
He is going to be six next month. While I know he is sitting beside me and I am teaching him cursive small letters
a, b, c, d ……
and he is too young to comprehend a single syllable of what I am intending to articulate through this article, but may be someday in the distant passage of time as he grows up, doesn’t even matter if my mortal presence is needed or not, he will stumble upon this piece of mine and perhaps he will stop, read by and understand; what his mother feels for him:

“You have made me strong. You have made me enduring. At times you have made me feel invincible. And when I look at that bright sublime face of yours at times of darkness and momentary lapse of rationality, I no longer feel vulnerable and weak. I long to live one more day…i feel loved….i feel fulfilled….yes indeed, I feel blessed.”

 

A tale of two Moms (An everyday short story)

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Good Morning ! Rise and Shine….It’s morning.

7.45am : And the countdown begins, seven more minutes or maybe ten more and we may miss the school bus. These last few minutes of every mother’s life especially with younger ones is pretty demanding. To manage the kid who is half-awake, half-sleepy and to board the bus on time, which is like the ultimate vehicle or carrier to nirvana is daunting. Here I would like to elaborate nirvana a bit further as we mothers mostly think that the primary road to success and prosperity for her kid is education and of course, then there is physical well being and sound emotional foundation too.

I stay in that part of the city which is upcoming and comparatively serene and less crowded. My husband works for a MNC with a senior executive role. And we could afford to live in a 4 bedroom villa with a secured and well maintained community. But then why am I writing this materialistic uppity trash; in the verge of sounding vain.

Probably you will realise once You finish reading this. I will call myself a stay home mom( it sounds a bit more respectable than to be called a housewife or houselady as I was a working lady before) now. But, Pardon me! It’s all the same for me but nothing wrong in adding a hint of sarcasm or two for terms like these which does not make a woman’s life any easier.

7.50am : I walk AB(the initials of my son’s name) down to the bus stop which is 100 mt away from my community towards the main road. It’s a beautiful boulevard with colourful flowery plants and creepers hanging on both sides of the road. This time is the most amiable and collected. It’s like a nice morning walk with the fresh sun on my skin and the hands of my son clasping me tight. The school bus may come any moment in the next ten minutes, if lucky then in five minutes.

But the story doesn’t end here, it rather starts here. The tale of the other mom. I am not going to talk about my neighbour-mom who shares the same villa community with me and who comes to drop her kid too nor I want to mention the other mom who stays in the neighbourhood posh apartment. I want to tell the story of a mom – a working lady as keen as bringing up his son into a self sustainable, adept man like any other mother in this world.

The boy is wearing a lower quality school uniform with a torned bag and waits for his school bus while his mother brushes his hair gently with her hands like a comb. Even before she could wave a proper goodbye to her son as he climbs into his bus, the customer yells at her angrily for his cup of morning tea as he is getting late for the day. Those few seconds of momentary bliss of waving a bye to her son is stolen from her. But she does not complain as this is the only way which can make his son board the vehicle to nirvana. She has a small barrow or tea stall or cart( which we call ‘thela gaadi’ in India) just beside the road. Without any hesitation or fuss, she smiles back and serves the man a cup of tea. And suddenly I am drawn to her appearance and I see her in a faded saree managed with some worn out metal and glass accessories as if scattered here and there in her body but then a warm bright smile and hands busy serving tea and sundry snacks or nick nacks to bunch of eager customers.

7.58am : AB’s school bus arrives. I wish him bye with a big kiss on his forehead pestering him to be obedient to teachers and be focused in the class and stay careful. And my little one giggles and waves me bye. What an assuring moment is that! The bus leaves. And then our eyes meet unexpectedly or quite accidentally. I smile at her and she smiles back across the road.
This has almost become a routine now. We never talk but a warm honest smile at each other most of the mornings is not a bad start for the day at all. Sometimes I feel blessed when I see her but then at times unfavourable , I feel weak and inadequate compared to her.

There is nothing common between me and her but we do share one commonality; one stratum that binds us with an invisible thread and that’s the three meaningless letters when combined together makes a warm meaningful word – MOM.