What Say Your Mumma?

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She made me stay abed for days on nigh when I was unwell. But when she took a major fall and was all trussed up in bandages and cream, she tottered up early in the morning to the kitchen. When asked why, she told us her daughter was getting late for office and if not for her, would leave on an empty stomach. She is my mother.

She scolded me when I complained of a stomach bug to her on a holiday trip. I was branded an unsavory person who knew not how to control her food urges and caused everyone trouble when attacked by acidity. A couple of days later she caught the bug and couldn’t walk for a week. That was five years ago and she still can’t forgive herself for her comments. She is my mother.

I was a teenager in the throes of adolescence. I came home hours after curfew was set. The shouting match which ensued was loud and fierce. She had to turn away with a frown on her face. The tears which shimmered in her eyes then, rise up still when the day is mentioned. She is my mother.

My elder sister had come first not only in her class, but in the entire grade. I had scraped a bare eleventh in my class. The teachers all praised her and looked down their noses at me. Fellow students clapped her shoulder and bestowed perfunctory smiles at me. Relatives called to congratulate her and didn’t bother to speak to me. I felt my confidence slither low and blamed myself for all my follies. But when She congratulated my sister and bought her a gift, she made sure I had one too. She is my mother.

The teacher had called in my mother to class. I had lost my homework for the umpteenth time and they knew not what to do with me. I was named a Problem Child, and the Principal shook his head gravely at me. But She combed my hair the next day as she prepared me for school and tied a pretty band around my ponytail. She told me to face up to those who looked down at me and prove to them that I was worthy. She is my mother.

I was in college and in the depth of depression. Nothing was going my way, and only hurt was imminent. I was blundering about and losing all things I deemed important for me. In the midst of my Crisis, I was called home from college because it was close-by and she had a lesion on her leg which needed to be treated. Her leg hurt and she could barely stand. While at the doctor’s, the only solution to my depression seemed to me in the form of a particular snack. That snack took on the form of every little and big thing that caused me pain. Everybody else called me selfish when I wished to have the snack. But She made me drive down to the snack-bar and buy the snack for myself on the way home from the doctor’s. She is my mother.

She’s strict and unemotional and fussy and points out all the little flaws in me at every opportunity.

She’s warm and brave and strong and protects me from all those who dare to pick at the slightest of my flaws.

She is my mother.