The Motherhood in Me

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My mother was a lady of grace though she was apprehensive about smallest of the mischiefs of us- her three daughters. We the girls grew up considering her to be the epitome of womanhood. We thought a woman is supposed to be like her. She, was a homemaker though well educated with time. She taught us both English as well as math. Beena, her name which is the melodious musical instrument of goddess Saraswati, was chosen for her by her parents when she went to school. Beena was timid and scared of her husband, society and sisters. So, most of the time she would set thresholds for us. We three sisters though, the obedient ones, would unhappily comply with her decisions. But the eldest one would many a times go against the rules and also faced the consequences. The one next to her, was the ideal one for Beena. She had trained her as she desired. Me, the, youngest one was a bright student. I never made myself available to be bullied by anyone in school. I would fight with anybody irrespective of their age and standard in the school. And when the matter would slip out of my hands, I would ask my sisters to come for my rescue. And these two sisters, without judging the situation would rush and stood by me. It did not matter who was right or if their sister was actually wrong. Slowly, I was popular for not being bullied and if any student dared to say anything to me, the sisters would teach them a lesson. But I never intimidated any child in my school neither initiated any scrimmage. I was duteous. Beena was unaware of these happenings otherwise she would have suggested to listen to the bullies instead of raising my voice.

Pause.

When I was a mother after many years and my son just promoted from Play school to the Primary standards in a bigger school, I talked to him, ‘Beta! Enjoy your life as much as you can as these carefree days would not come back again. Don’t begin any fight in the school neither harm any child, but if someone tries to torture you, teach him a lesson but consider the extent. It should not traumatize the child. Rest will be taken care by me.’ I positioned myself in the place of my sisters who stood for me all the time during my school days. I knew my son would never hurt any lad but I thought this instruction was necessary for his safety. I was incongruous to Beena; a fiery mother for my child. I had sent my son with a copious amount of courage and confidence.

Contrast to my thoughts, he turned out to be the one- unlike me. He feared to speak. He was reluctant to accept the new change of his life. He lacked courage and was anxious.

I, his mother, pushed him lovingly to live this beautiful life without terror and distress but with a failure.

I kept on trying with a hope, to make him the fearless old me which is necessary for the survival in this life. A person can’t be happy living under stress and fear because accepting ‘the’ change is indispensable for the existence.

 

 

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