Remembering my Mother
Miss you Mom!
I knew that mothers are always great!
I always knew that my mother was a great mother, but I didn’t know that after she is gone, I would miss her so much!
To remember her, here in this blog, is a tough job.
But I am doing a memoir for her.
Yes, She is going to be with me, as a guiding force. I have decided that she is not gone! She is just travelling and would be my angel advisor. Advisor, to guide me whenever I would like to seek her blessings.
Mother was a very ordinary woman. Born in 1936 in Kashmir, Ramban town to be precise. She was part of a family of five sisters and four brothers. Her father then was a forest officer of Kashmir region.Imagine, growing up in an environment being green and leafy. She used to tell me stories, of the waterfall through their house. Even hearing them for the hundredth time couldn’t bore me; in fact, they grew more interesting every single time.Tales of how my grandfather was an honest officer who was very respected, would always bring a proud feeling in my heart.
Coming to Delhi in the late fifties and settling down for her higher studies, my mother did double MA in Sanskrit and Music (Sangeet Prabhakar). The Sanskrit language became her subject of teaching when she joined in the Government School.
Married to a journalist, she lived in a two-room rented house for about eight years. Dad was working with the Hindi edition of Times of India- NavBharat Times. It was the leading daily newspaper and gave him a lot of respect and command over his language.
I came into this world as my parents eldest and only son. As a first child in the family, I guess, I was naughty and a most loved individual of the house. My grandmother used all her love and affection in my upbringing. Since I was born in the year the moon was conquered, my mother and father gave me the Sanskrit name “Taresh”- meaning Taroan ka ish, which meant- “the king of the stars-The Moon”. Soon, I became a darling of the house. All my wishes were fulfilled by my mother with whatever resources she had.
Then came my sister, two years after I was born and mother gave me a friend for life. Banu, as she was named by my dad as the first woman on earth-Eve. Now, we two could bring more laughter and joy to my mother who felt complete with two children.
We soon shifted to a journalist colony into our own house. I remember that I used to accompany my parents to this house for few months while it was being constructed. Having lunch over the half-built house, appeared to be a picnic, in those days. Finally, when the house was ready, we did shift, but the house had no doors or closed windows, which came a little later.
Mother always taught me to be honest, whatever may be the consequence! This was sometimes debated by me. “what if this honesty leads me to trouble or is not for the benefit of another person…?”, I used to ask her. She used to only smile… which meant, don’t sway! Keep on your path.
She was a fighter! Fighting for her rights. Always fighting for what is right and what should always be right in her opinion. Then, she knew, that the outcome would be positive and always in her favour. I remember one such instance in my early childhood. When we had gone to Shimla and were on the Mall Road, we went to the Tourist Office and asked for the daily tour bus, the person there replied that since there were not enough persons that day, they would not be running the tourist bus at all. My mother got furious and told that manager that this is not the way. She argued that he was no one to decide whether we, a family of three that had come all the way from Delhi, would tour the Shimla region for the first time or not. My mother was, by now joined in by few more tourist who also echoed the same voice. Complaining that he gave the same reply to them also and they were being returned to him. As he got the sense, he immediately offered to run the bus which, by now had got over 25-30 passengers. All of them were now happy and grateful to my mother for actually fighting and getting that bus started. Next few hours, we were all treated like kings and queens by our fellow passengers, and we had a beautiful day. Thanks to that fighting spirit of my mother. I guess, seeing her fight for every fundamental right, for what is right, made me also develop this unique “fighting spirit”. I think that is what made me what I am today. Thanks, Mom, for helping me develop this vision in the right way and being my guiding force for life.
To remember you for standing up for yourself and for what brought happiness and joy. For the tremendous sense of being satisfied with whatever is available or for getting what belongs to you. Her simplicity and contentment with little things that bring her joy. This feeling created a unique sense of identity. My identity of being me. For never changing just because someone wants me to change.
So, to make this blog memorable, I have asked all my relatives and her friends– “What is the one good thing about my mother that personifies her?“. I have the following replies and shall keep updating them as and when I get more “comments” on this blog also. The following hence became her qualities and personal
- She was unyielding.
- She would not let her finances go haywire.
- Taking care of herself and her health. Moreover, the health of everyone around her was always important.
- Don’t delay any health problem and never be shy of any consequences. Remembering when my son was advised specs, I cried, but my mother was clear that is essential.
- Being an independent. To make her daughter independent. Self-reliant.
- Her mind was pure. Very sacred.
- She was very caring.
- She had her own principles to live her own life.
- She worked for her health in her own way.
- She was emotional.
- She thrived on her family members love and affection.
- She actually “sought love and appreciation” from the family members.
(Note: the first six are from my wife and later six from my Son)