I don’t remember it and
I can’t forget it either; I
mean, her first touch.
Though I arrived in this
world without any
luggage of language but
I don’t know how (does anyone?)
I pronounced
the word ma all by myself.
On one hand I
am still oblivious to the
exact moment when
that mysterious word
escaped me for the first
time and on the other,
the sublime emotional
resonance of her first
touch upon my soft,
ignorant and naive skin
has nested – like my
own conscience –
within me forever.
And whenever I feel the
resonance of it
choreographing my
soul, birth seems like a
euphoric swing
between physical
heaven and mental
bliss.
The first time she took
me in her hands and
pressed me softly
against her bosom I
was subliminally
connected to my
identity: I was a man.
The first time she
offered me her milk, it
transpired a realization
in me: I needed a
woman to provide me
with the strength that
epitomises a man.
The first time she prepared
Cerelac for me I
foresaw: I’ll need a
woman for my growth.
The first time she took
my hands and feet onto
hers and taught me
how to walk, my
subconscious conjured:
I needed a woman for
the direction that
eventually decides the
difference between a
man and a human. The
first time she scolded
me when I picked up
foul language in
primary school I learnt:
I needed a woman to
punctuate me. The first
time she helped me
with my bath I
understood: I needed a
woman to rinse me of
all my dirt. But the
incident that helped me
realize the real value of
a mother – probably
the most significant
manifestation of
womanhood –
happened one night
when she lit a candle
during a power cut.
The stubborn wind,
continuously peeping in
through the open
windows, denied the
candle flame a stasis.
As a reflex, my mother
placed both her hands
around the flame.
Within seconds it
calmed the flickering
flame down lighting the
area properly and also
those dark corners of
ignorance within me,
once and for all. I
realized had it not been
for her caring and
comforting presence
The flame of my
existence would have
flickered relentlessly
under the influence of
the wind of delusions
and temptations. And
perhaps extinguish too,
way before the true
potential was achieved…!!!
She is always
surrounded with an
aura that is a
stentorian
pronunciation of the
substance that a
genuine woman is
made of. I have even
seen one of my father’s
office colleagues
touching her feet! I
didn’t understand that
at first but as I grew up
and women – in
various avatars –
touched my life there
were instances when I
tried to find my mother
in them. I wasn’t
successful every time
but whenever I was, I
felt honoured to bow
down.
The most shocking
thing about my mother
is she does the same
thing every day. And
the most surprising
thing is she does it with
a smile. An entire life in
the well of monotony!
As if a mother never
lives for herself. Every
action, urge, wish in
her is because of a
surreal reaction to her
family’s needs and
wants.
“Were you always like
this, living for others?”
“No!”
“Then is that the
change a woman goes
through when she
becomes a mother?”
“A woman connects
with the woman inside
when she becomes a
mother.” She had a
twinkle in her eyes
when she said it. I
believed it was a tear
but she termed it pride.
I think the greatest
blessing for any flame is
the hand that guards it
from flickering. And
how the flame burns
depends, to an extent,
upon the warmth of the
hand. Yet sometimes
we take things so much
for granted that we
tend to ignore the very
basic element that
helps – at different
stages of our existence
– cement the bricks of
sanity together to build
a healthy wall of living
for us.
It’s not that I have seen
my mother play only a
mother. Like the
different seasons she
too has played various
roles exclusive of each
other. As if within her
resides the climate of
creation. And in doing
so she has allowed us
to reap the benefits of
all the different facets
sown within her.
As I continue to see her
getting caressed by
time, I have confessed
to myself that a woman
– doesn’t matter the
role – is, above all, the
climax of a man’s life….!
India Talks 