Mum's the word...

Its late in the night - closer to daybreak, than to midnight. I wake up with a start. Im not sure if it’s the mosquitoes bothering me. Then, I start wheezing and my chest doesn’t seem to be able to expand to its full capacity with each breath. I sit up and try to find a position that would comfort me and make it easier. My brother shakes around in the bed next to me, as I start coughing slowly to clear my bronchial tract. Then, I hear light footsteps walking toward my room, and from the dark my mom emerges, bringing instant relief with some of her quick-help remedies.

Since I was little, I've had this problem of developing breathing complexities when trying to sleep. The doctors gave it technical recognition with names like ‘Bronchial Asthma’ and the lot, but couldn’t really cure it. It turned out to be one of those things that gets cured on its own with age, and now its simply a rarity, only rearing its head on the occasional exposure to extreme amounts of dust or pollution. But, the part I remember about all of this, is how my mom always managed to feel my pain and rush to my assistance. I am certain my dad got woken up too. But, he realizes that in such scenarios, it is definitely the mom’s touch that makes the difference. And he won’t arrive until it’s absolutely necessary – to dish out some medicine because it’s pretty severe, for example.

Enlightenment?

Of late, I have been living away from my parents and my brother, and I have learnt that it is the distance that finally gives you the realization of how important they were in your lives. When they were always around, you take them for granted, and give more importance to your television, sports and friends. Not once have I ever done anything special for my mom except for hand-made birthday cards once a year. I have of course, picked arguments almost on a daily basis, criticized her cooking even though I reckon she’s the best and never told her so, never appreciated her sacrifices – the ones she made so me and my brother could have a peaceful life and everything would be taken care of. Now that I live alone, all that comfort is suddenly gone, and I can clearly see what a great effort she put in everyday for me and my brother. And how thankless I have been.

Transformation

If you tell her that you are sorry you never thanked her or appreciated her or even helped her out once in a while, she comes back with – “Well, you have atleast ensured you have a stable career ahead of you and learnt to live on your own. That is all I ever wanted for you anyway.”. Its like shes saying – “Mission accomplished”, but I cant get over the fact that I haven’t been the greatest of sons. However, I am glad I left home. Since then, I have developed a new-found level of relationship with her. I understand her more clearly now, I can talk to her about almost anything, I realize the gaps in my life she managed to fill so easily without me even knowing. Of course, I despise missing her cooking. Another thing I took for granted, cos good food was always just a few footsteps away - in the kitchen.

Mum is the word

So many of us search for God in idols, temples, peaceful surroundings, bearded people (?). None of us have really ever seen God. I think the closest I have come to seeing The Almighty is in my parents. Mum’s the word..the word I would use to describe God. Even though I gave her immense pain since the day I was born, she has shown great resilience and ensured that I have an unparalleled upbringing. That I can be proud of the human being she has moulded me into. Now, my visits home are more like a pilgrimage, where I look back at the times I was always in a temple and never realized it! Where I savour the sumptuous Prasad everyday, before its time to go back. Back to the material world, where I live with penny-chasers and become one too. Someday I will realize that chase was a waste too…will I?