Ok, since I am extremely challenged when it comes to writing blog posts on the day they would be relevant, I will now proceed and try to write one which would have made more sense the day before yesterday. But considering that I got the very idea to do this post only when I read a hundred others on almost all of my favorite blogs, it is only natural that I am a couple of days too late. But better late than never, ain’t it? And also, I believe that one day does not do justice to my mom (yes you can pass that as a lame attempt at being sentimental and totally cliched, because trust me there is more of it coming soon).
Anyway, so Amma, here is my attempt at letting you know why you matter as much as you do. It is simple, really. Despite my annoyed cries telling you that I am now a grown up and can take decisions on my own, despite my repeated hanging up of calls saying you don’t need to tell me what to do, despite the fact I refuse to answer with a simple yes when you ask me if I’ve had lunch every single day, fact is, I have no clue what I would do without you.
Accept it ma, I need attention. All of it, from everybody. So if I get hurt, and I cry, it will be more so that those who matter come over to console me, than for the actual pain. The attention will not reduce the pain, but it definitely feels good to be in the spotlight. And for you, your kids were always in the spotlight. You happen to be the one patient soul, who knows this fact for the past 27 years, and still refuses to ignore it. My need for attention that is. Why exactly do you think that I send you mails and messages dissing all those who annoy me, knowing very well, that you probably don’t even know who they are? Because I know, that you will get bugged with them too. Probably more than I am. And when you do collective dissing, it really helps. And now it is a norm. So that I can get a number of SMSes from you telling me how you think they’ve been unfair. At that moment, I think, how is this going to help really? But fact is, it does.
You are also my jhola for putting away my worries. It sounds duh I know, but all those times I call just to ask if things will be ok? Well, it’s not that I need reassurance, it’s some baseless belief I always had, that if I parked the worry with you, it will fix itself. Actually, it is not baseless, it is totally based on historical evidence. Which proves itself right time and again. And so you remain my official worry-resolver even today.
I know I am not always the best daughter. Oh come on, I am always the bad daughter. I call you and scream when I am bugged with the work people, I don’t respond to all your SMSes asking me if I am fine, I cry and blame you for fixing the sister’s wedding on my month close dates on purpose, abbah what and all I do! But you always listen. And when I hang up, you always call back. Or message me, asking if you can call. I think it is the belief that you will do all of these that makes me take these liberties. Not that it is an excuse, but still.
That being said, I really think you’re awesome. You had me when you were 20 years old. If I think of when I was 20, I can think of this totally lost, clueless, girl, who was still trying to find out where she fit in. And you, you were a mother.You ensured that I had an awesome childhood. I can’t think of one single time where I thought I did not have enough. You supported me through each and every decision I ever took, sometimes even the bad ones, and then convinced me that it was not my fault after all. You were my friend, which made it possible for me to share everything with you comfortably. You were there when I needed you, and then very calmly, you let me go, as if it were the most natural thing to do.
But face it, I am not done yet. Accepted, we talk everyday on the phone, we chat, you’ve gone all tech savvy and joined Facebook, and even leave comments now, and I can make rasam almost as good as yours (thanks to your magic masala, but that’s our little secret!), but that’s not enough. I really need more of you around. I should be able to see you when I want to, and do some face to face interaction, you know, considering we don’t have video-conferencing facilities? So, gear up, pack your bags (and Dad’s of course!) and move out here. I think 10 years of staying away from home is enough for me. And if you think you have done your part, and now its The Dude’s turn, well, think again. You have a lot more of me to deal with, so all the best for that.
Happy Mothers Day Amma, you’re the bestest!
P.S. Erm, all this was not for nothing, you and Dad better make the move to Hyderabad fast!
P.P.S. Aap convince ho gaye hain ya main aur boloon?