Maa...

Since childhood I've been told that I've taken after my dad. Our mannerisms – the annoying and the not-so-annoying ones, our temper, our indecisive nature, and even our nose, they say, are all alike. I had little choice but to smile every time this was brought up. I never really bothered. What no one knew however, was that I always yearned that it were instead my mom, they compared me to.

I always wanted to be like mom. I desired to look like her , desired to be just as poised, firm and self-righteous. I wanted to grow up to be her. Back then, I might not have been too conscious bout this. And now, caught in between life, I sub-consciously let it settle down somewhere inside me, along with all the little desires we grow in us. Those which have no compulsion factor attached, those which are demure enough to just be, those which however, never leave. Never.

With time, I saw mom change. Saw her from being the exacting mommy to being the best friend. I found in her my most loyal friend. Most importantly, I discovered myself to be her most dependable person. She never hesitated. She never kept away. She told me all. We shared our worlds. We still do.

I'm just as old now as my mom was, when she got married. She married with the same dreams that I dream for myself. She was just as nervous then, as I will be when my time comes. It's not very different. She might not have dreamt of living someday in Europe as I do. She might not have dreamt of a PhD as I do. She might not have desired things that I do. But I'm sure she wanted to be loved, to be cared just as much as any girl desires. And therefore, I'm outright furious when my girlfriends tell me how much they dread to live the lives of their mothers. I do not get the whole concept of being “just-a-mom”!! I think what they fail to see is that being just a mom itself requires one to rise to a level which involuntarily exacts inspiration, motivation and love. To be able to reach there I'm sure cannot be qualified as being “just-a-mom”!

Try as I might, I don't think I'll ever be as good a mom as her. And I know that even if I can be half as good as her, my kids would be pretty lucky.

Of late, my mom's learning the nuances of e-mailing. With one kid in US of A and the other in Delhi, my mom thinks she needs to 'update' herself. She therefore mails us, video-chats and also pulls my Dad along in all her ‘upgradations’. One such mail from her touched me somewhere deep inside. It was a very short mail, of about four or five lines. She en quired of my health and studies. The regular stuff. Before ending, this is what she added:

‘Beta, main abhi seekh rahin hoon. Agar koi galti ho toh sirf hasna aur mujhe bata dena. Apna khyal rakhna. Love, Mummy.’

I kept staring at the screen for some time. I did not quite know what to feel.
I wondered if, some time not very long ago, she got irritated when I kept forgetting my alphabets. Or if she ever was annoyed when I mis-spelt or goofed up my multiplication tables. Or did she ever laugh when I wore my sweater the other way round. Or did she just happily correct me and love me even more.

I teased her bout this the next time I called her. Before I hung up, I told her I eagerly waited for her mails. More than anything else. I could imagine her beaming the other side. Nothing more needed to be said. She understood. Like always.

Oh yes, my guy tells me I have these beautiful eyes. You know what, they totally resemble my mom's.