and she will be loved

There only so many people we sift thoroughly to let deep down into our hearts. I too, have had my share of all kinds of friends, but today I will raise a toast to my soul-sister. The one girl who through time & distance will always be a huge part of my life.

My ninth- grade was a pretty rough year. There was this girl in my class K who sat right in front of me & she had the jolliest nature ever. K was perpetually sunshine and smiles & there’s no better way to describe her. Our first talk in class went like this.
Me: where are you from?
K: Tamil nadu
Me: oh a pandu
K: excuse me!
Me: yeah a pandu & an enemy
K: why? We don't even know each other enough to be enemies
Me: because you guys want to steal the kaveri water from us
And thus fake wars were waged as we fought for the kaveri we hadn't even seen.

 Since I was kind of alone & in no real intention to make any more close friends (due to a huge dramatic full - fledged Indian serial type break up with my ex-best friend) I took refuge in the library. Every recess & every free period I would run away to the library & bury myself in books. And every once in a while she would swing by & check on me, she didn't have to, no one else did, but she would and it pretty much made her almost top of my list of awesome people. She was a reader herself & we would have many talks about our heroes.

Skip a few years. We just got closer.

She got married & had a child. We didn't tell any of our other friends because when life tends to find out you are too happy it jinxes your happiness. I was leaving for vacation when she went into labor & I kept trying her cell but could not reach her. Finally she did call me & I was so happy for her that I thought I might just shoot out like a rocket with all the joy. And then she dropped the bomb. "Will you be godmother to my child?" If I had any doubts about rocketing away, I was fairly certain I would now. Needless to say I spent an entire vacation planning on stuff I’ll buy my godson, and what kind of a god mother I would be.

In a few months, she called me & said she had a big announcement and I still remember regretting being a happy go lucky loser who joked about everything because I teased her if it was a second pregnancy or something when she broke down on the phone & after moments of uncertain silence and panicking she told me she was getting a divorce. I was dumbstruck. I didn't know what to say so I cried & tried to convince her that it would be ok & I was there for her - always. I had known for a while that there was something going on between them but she hadn't spoken about it ever & I didn't ask because I knew if she wanted to tell she would have told me- I didn't want to intrude into her personal life. So I spoke to her more often & though I wanted to visit her more often than I could, I tried. Eventually she got the divorce but then there was the custody battle & we plotted & fought court - of course I only had a minimal role to play except for the daily prayers. But in the end we won. She got my godson & it wasn't all great & glorious but we got through. And I feel like hell even now because I wanted to do more for her & be there in more ways than I could but I tried & that is my saving grace. I visited her & we cried & sought solace in reminding each other of god's mercy & greatness & His grand plan.
And then she left. For good to India (family emergency). I was upset for a whole week before I could be normal again.

I cannot think of her without a smile creeping up on me because she made me a better person, and for the sister she has been she deserves nothing short of heaven.

 

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A mother's heart

Among my many kids was Usman. Usman was the kind of kid who you would fall in love with on your first interaction with him. He was extremely well behaved, well mannered & spoke with a brilliance not common for a four year old. But he was also extremely shy &very peace loving. He was the kind of kid who would never fight back and would distance himself from whatever he had to face competition for.

Initially it was his toys, then his favourite pencil, his favourite spot, so on and later on me. I was very upset that my kid, for whom I cared so much, was distancing himself from me. Naturally I was more on the lookout for him, because I saw the Gandhian in the making. No Gandhian can survive in today's big bad world. I wanted him to learn to fight for himself to stand up for something he wanted, for instance when someone would snatch something from him he would just leave the room instead of fighting over it, lesson number 1 for me - something I still do. I learnt many lessons from all my kids but this was my first ever, and it has helped me in many situations to just walk away (for the moment alone mind you).

He would never hug me back or kiss me properly inspite of my constant expressions of love. It made me worry about him more, it also hurt me a little bit. But I reassured myself, he was a baby still in a Montessori, he would improve as he grew. I took care to not be partial towards him in my behaviour towards him, having personal experience, although limited to teachers being partial at school, I have read enough and heard even more to know how much it affects the kid and others around them. I didn't want to jeopardize my relationship with my other kids for the sake of one.

I spoke to him about it, guided him and constantly tried to brush it in him the need to not be overshadowed by others. Having an older brother who was better at sports and academics didn't help either. Nonetheless the elder one was very protective of him. If he ever saw someone troubling his little brother all hell would break loose. I pray their relationship stays strong forever.

Usman showed some improvement, learning confidence little by little. By the time he was done with his Montessori he was firmer in his stand, a lot more confident, still my peace loving baby but he had improved and no one was prouder than me. One thing however had not changed, he was still reluctant to hug me or kiss me, unlike my other kids he just would not express his love, and it still pricked me.

Soon it was his last day at his Montessori, his interview for first grade was quite good, he answered with a strange confidence I had never seen in him, his teacher had done a good job with him. I was exceptionally proud.

He came to me and was lingering around my table, reluctant to ask but making it obvious he wanted to say/ask something. I called him near me and he became shy. Anyhow he came closer and put one arm around my neck and the other on my left cheek, pulled me down to his level and kissed my right cheek. I was shocked, surprised, elated to the extend that I don't care to explain and I can't. I hugged him back and he started to cry. I patted him and asked him what happened.  If someone had hurt him on his last day at school that kid would have had it from me. But he surprised me even more.

I love you Teacher. Can you please come to my new school because I will miss you so much.

My vision blurred as I wiped my eyes.

No baby I can't come to your new school because if I come to your new school who will take care of your friends here.

But teacher I will miss you so much. Please. I will be a good boy I promise.

 I told him all about how exciting his new school would be and how he would not get the time to miss me. Howls got louder, the hug got tighter.

No teacher I will miss you.  I will come some some times to see you.

Sure darling.

A child, that I had mothered for 6 hours a day 5 days a week was finally ready to face his next challenge (first grade) with the confidence I had built in him, and it had not cost me his love. My mother's heart (not my mum's heart, as in my heart experiencing a mothering moment) was soaring with joy and pride beyond words.

So much to learn – so little time

4:45 – I run to the kitchen to make tea.

I tiptoe into her room, place the tea cup on the dressing table. She moves a little but doesn’t wake up. I take a quick look at the clock on the wall- its dot 5. Thank god.

  She sleeps like a peaceful child. And that’s all I pray for her, to lead a peaceful life, to not have any more drama is her life- because she’s seen enough & it’s only fair that, now, she gets to see content days .

 I used to believe in the Chinese curse “may you live in interesting times” and she used to refuse vehemently. I have grown up to believe it too.- because she taught me to never ask for something that could break you,  that “interesting times” would also be hard and trying – and of course I learned it the hard way.

 My mother  and I are poles apart – we are like fire and ice, and as a rebellious teenager, I would often swear  that I would be nothing like her when I grew up , but here I am today – a subtle replica of her , a forgery of the same woman with, say, the signature of my father  on me.

5:10 –  mummy.

she’s not getting up inspite of me calling out to her, day well-spent  taking its toll. So I nudge her gently. She always told me to wake up my brothers from sleep in a gentle manner – something I never did earlier (and I think they didn’t deserve it).  Waking up to a new day – it isn’t nice to wake up to someone yelling at you to hurry up.

5 :15 – mummy utho na. (mom wake up)

One of the things my mom and I never agreed on is the concept of retaliations , the joy of sweet revenge. I have always believed in a tooth for a tooth, but she believes in overlooking, then making sure it’s not getting out of hand, if yes - intervene , if not - forgive. 

She always told me that if you forgive easily – people might take advantage, they will think you won’t mind just because you don’t say it out loud and make a fuss of it.  Still  forgive.

Her heavy figure breathing serenely, composed in the confines of her blanket, a safe haven. It seems silly, but I find peace when I see her all calm and tension-free. The gratitude I feel for her – I can never express it in words or deeds. She seems lost in her dreams. Dreams I hope she gets to see, I wonder why I don’t know what she dreams of. I think hard and see a flash-back of her saying “ a parent’s biggest dream is to see their child grow up and be a good honest person- to know that they have raised their kid well.” I hope I can live up to her dream – and be the person I want to be at the same time.

5:40 -  Finally after all the nudging  she wakes up. 

Kitne baar bola hai beta, paaanch baje utha do, lekin nai, tumko laptop se fursat mile tab na. ab kitne der ho gayi, aao kitchen mein aur help karo.(how many times do i have to tell you wake me up early but of you leave your laptop then only you will have the time to think about other things, now its so late come and help me in the kitchen.)

 I can just laugh at this daily dose of love, and hope I can be at least half the mom she is. When and if, I have kids – I want them to know her , to spend time with her and to learn from her.