I was a teenager when I read Charles Lamb's essays of Elia. What he wrote about superannuation though on a lighter vein ,did not amuse me but set me thinking.He was talking about men,who do have retirement age,who can still have leisure hours to think about a life totally for themselves.I was then thinking about women of a certain status who cannot even imagine such a luxury.A man who went out and earned for his family ,is always placed on a pedestal as the master of the house.A woman slogging her entire youthful days,equally contributing to the welfare of the family mostly takes a subsidiary position .Society forgets to give the importance she deserves.
My thinking from those days became different.I realised that as much as my father provided for me,my mother in the background was as important.I understood that in my own life,nothing would be complete if she were not present.She was there every moment ,just for us.So dignified,so thoughtful,she was the instrument moulding the family. Never as indulgent as my father,never displayed her emotions in public especially to me.For 18 long years ,I had thought of this attitude as hard heartedness.I had craved for her affection,a hug,a word of appreciation,which NEVER came.But slowly it dawned on me that her love was shown in a different way-the food that she cooked for me,the way she cared for my health and looks ,even the admonishings on a daily basis on how I should talk or walk. There was never a display of affection and at that young age I felt that she did not care for me enough.
Later when I moved away after my marriage, coming into a different set up,where everything was different and I felt that I was drowning,I longed for my mother,everyday.Yes,she would have rebuked me ,when I was fumbling directionless,not exactly soothing to the troubled mind but definitely setting me in the correct path.Without that, it took me agonising years to get on the right track in my new life,floundering to get where I wanted to be.Though all around me I saw successful housewives,my role model was the one far away,that gentle woman,who never raised her voice,who never uttered a single harsh word , who was never given to tantrums or hysterics to get her way, my amma.She was there reigning in my mind and having set me on a road,where I had to find my identity,she quietly receded to the background.
Moving on in life,becoming a mother myself and raising my children,I deviated from her mode only where I felt she did not give me enough. I showered my love on my kids openly,talked to them a lot,expressed my feelings a lot more.But in all other respects ,she had shown the way,a clear,correct way.So it was easy.She still was in the back stage,giving me cues from time to time.
She was in command till appa passed away.It is painful that she is slipping slowly.Sometimes it is hard to believe that this was the woman holding the reins,controlling all of us till not so long ago.She now is fragile,not able to grasp situations,not interested in things happening around.There are occasional sparks,showing her bright side but she no more has that spirit to see everything set right.And she knows that she is losing her grip.Yesterday I shared with her the news of my friend Asha winning an essay competition and her subject was her mother in law's 100th birthday celebration.She said to me"If you really love me, you should pray that I must not live that long.I want to go away when you are active and strong."I felt the hard slap of reality.She is wise and she knows the harsh truth.I am not that wise and I am not able to accept this cruel fact of life.Oh God!
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