My mother and Me

My mother and Me

My mother was born in a small town in west-coast of India. Youngest of  nine children she lost her dad when was 13 days old. It was not easy for a baby born in to a conservative, sometimes superstitious society. Though she was branded unlucky, none of her 6 sisters and 2 brothers made her feel that way.

She grew up doted by her siblings imbibing their ideas. I guess most influence in her life has been from her mother who taught her everything, from traditional Hindu values to finest culinary secrets. She was groomed in to a perfect Indian wife as expected but with a small compromise. She never learnt to speak English. She was smart intelligent and everything desirable to a “catch” suitor. She was married off to a suitable boy who earned well  and had similar values.

She always had those insecurities of not being able to speak in English. She can read and write in English but never could comprehend. That perhaps was not that big problem till she was blessed with 3 children. She realized her limited knowledge of English could not help her teach her children beyond their nursery class lessons and worst even could not meet the expectations of her children either.

We grew up in a loving environment with strong Indian values with great support and encouragements to our academic and extra-curricular activities. We never did we see our mother complain about the stress and demands. It must have been hard for her. I grew up to be a doctor. In the process had very busy childhood with insatiable hunger for knowledge, reading and arts. All this time I had only heard kind words from my mother soothing my frustrations and encouraging my endeavors even though she hardly could creatively contribute. But I yearned for more input from her, perhaps I could discuss a book. Somewhere I always felt my mother is far more intelligent then she portrays herself to be.

She was  mocked by us when ever she attempted her hand at the language. My dad would jokingly join us too. It did lead to too many comical situations. All she did in such situations was to put a brave face and come up with her standard line “ I may not be that educated, but I am smart enough to produce intelligent children.”

Years passed and then I moved to UK, settled and blended more in to the western lifestyle.

My worst nightmare was to explain my parents about my personal life and my sexuality. I kept them in dark for years as I was sure they will never understand it let alone support me. My career was the obvious excuse for not settling down.

But being eldest son in a Indian family does come with it’s own price. Time came when my younger brother had to get married and the pressures of me getting married reached peak with all the regular Bollywood drama full of emotional blackmail at home.

During one of my visits I had to sit down and explain my real reasons. I played safe and used all the possible English words so that I know I didn’t have to clarify. Language can be such a power sometimes. I could see total confusion on my mother’s face but disapproval in her eyes. Needless to say that was one trip home I will never forget.

My interactions with my mother became infrequent then. I missed her but could not forget that disapproval in her eyes. I despised her more that time. If she could not approve my life then, I thought she has minimal role in my life.

Couple of years passed and I went to attend my brother’s wedding. My mother was there her usual self still looked up by her society for her accomplished housewife status, which I was not part anymore. But my mother was warm and caring as ever. She never did mention anything about my life in UK but also avoided any talk of it altogether whenever I tried.

I took her to our family jeweler to get a custom-made gold cuff-links for my then partner. I was choosing the designs while speaking on phone to UK asking for his advise. In between I could see my mother and some peculiar look in her face, I was taken back. Could not define her expression. It was definitely not of disapproval I could tell. It was surprise with a dash of happiness I think.

When I went to collect the cuff-links few days later, I was shocked to find out that my mother had already paid for them. I could not believe it. I asked her about it and what she said then still echoes in my ears.

“ I had to gift you something. I gather the person whom cuff-links are for is important to you. I suppose I could never meet expectations of your lifestyle and I could not reach out to you the way you wanted me to. But I always want you to be happy.” 

No more words spoken about the matter since.

That day I got my best friend back, my mother. She reached out to me beyond the barriers of culture and language. 

When it ended with my partner I made sure I got those cuff-links back because those meant more to me then that relationship.