Monday, 11 May 2015

Mum is the word.

When I was younger and someone said “You are just like your mother”, I would retaliate with a resounding “NO!”
It took me 23 years to know that my mother is the most beautiful woman I will ever know; that the first face I had recognized was of the person who would make me her world for the rest of her life. Some women are natural mothers, my mother is super-natural. No, really!
She is not the typical can-find-anything-that-is-lost (which she can), or the Bollywood inspired who knows when you are only steps away from home (which she does) but she's been unconventional in so many ways. She’s always been some kind of helicopter mother; and I had issues with that, obviously. But that is the beauty of a mother-daughter relationship; one doesn’t want to be anything like the other, while the other is always looking out to see that it never happens. “Don’t make the mistakes that I made” she says very nostalgically. But somewhere along this road, there is a chance of finding a beautiful friendship, of never ever needing a best friend again. Of never worrying about hurting someone so much that they would never speak to you again, even if they say so in the moment. The chance that you may never have to go to the movies alone. The chance that on the day you walk in with  your hair dyed electric blue  instead of a raging fit all you get is, "Its... different." 
Just like any two people who care about each other, we fight a lot, shout and scream. But the optimism with which we share ice-cream later is a tiny miracle. My mother is the glue that holds our family together, a go-to person for almost everyone in the house. In a world where children should be tied to their beds in chains, my mother never said no for anything, all she said was “Do what’s right for you” -so if you think going for a sleepover only a day before the most crucial exam of your life is the thing to do, so be it. She is my 1st expert for everything, my first example and inspiration for carrying myself into the world and its wide possibilities. For what am I if not a summation of her qualities?
On my birthdays, she wouldn’t buy me dolls or chocolates, she would buy books. On my report day, she wouldn’t be in a hurry to leave, but she would meet ALL the teachers, which was usually followed by getting me the bribe she knew I didn’t need to score well. On my graduation day, she cried and on the first overnight trip she ever sent me for, she called to ask “Can you sleep without me?” Even though my father still thinks I am 3 years old, my mother always treated me like an adult, but there are still those“You are still too young for….” arguments.
The first time I brought a guy home, she decided to shove a family-tree-scrapbook I made in 5thGrade in his face and explained to him where exactly he would fit in. And that led to the most awkward conversation of my life where I had to explain to my naïve mother that I didn’t intend to marry every guy I brought home, which led to several puzzled looks from her end finally ending with “Alright then, I need to cook.” The first time I had my heart broken, she said "It hurts but its okay, I understand." instead of telling me, how I was too young to be in love anyway.

I wish to be half the mother she is to me. To be half the friend she is. To be half the kind of cook she is. And with all those halves my children would be full lucky.

So now so many years later when someone says that I am just like my mother, I say “Thank you!”