I am glad I have friends, girls who grew up in a similar manner as I did and learned lessons not literally taught by their mom. However, learned simply by imbibing from her. My mom left a flourishing career, one I can say with conviction would have had her on a top notch position had she not quit. Over the years, my sister and I often wondered out loud why she had taken such a step and as we grew, we understood. Yes, our dad traveled 20 days in a month and mom too would work round the clock. Often, we would only so much interact over homework sessions and the coaxing of vegetables at the dinner plate. We would watch her come back from work as late as 8 pm, clean the mess we had created after school, put us down to complete homework while she cooked and drilled algebra into us. She would rush out at vague hours to buy that chart paper for a submission we would have mentioned to her only while going to bed, she would work on it all night and it would be ready for us to take to school in the morning. She ensured she was there at every parent teacher meeting, report card days, first day of school and made it point to attend with dad our annual day events every year without fail. She was there when we suffered the bout of flu, the conjunctivitis. There would be nights when she would put us to peaceful sleep and stay up all night with an attack of asthma.For many nights in a row. Yet, she would be up at 4 am, finishing her daily chores and running out on time by 8 am for work.
Our mom took off from work not when she was ill, but when we had exam prep leave. We never had a cook at home. We always had mom cooked meals. We never missed a submission in school, our science assignments always made it to the exhibition, our festival charts always made it to the school entrance corridors, we were always picked to read the news for the school every morning and deliver the welcome speech at special events in school, we always had large birthday parties and we never missed our friend's birthday party. We never went for tuition, mom was enough for our names to be in the top 10% of class. On Christmas, she would remember to send a gift for the school principal, our nun at the convent. Principal after principal I remember would look forward to that gift every year. During Diwali, we would visit our Hindu teachers and grace them with sweets. At home, she would cook us dishes that were typical of a festival. I don't remember a single time in school where I wondered 'How come I don't have that?'. We would have a table full of gifts and a very thoughtful cake every Birthday morning. I remember calling her at work once and telling her I had cut my finger while peeling a raw mango. All of 7, I remember crying over the phone and telling her how much it hurt. I don't remember how she reacted that evening on getting home or even what she said over the phone, But I remember the comfort I had of calling her and informing her.
As a 4 year old, she put me in a creche once, where I had injured myself bad enough to have had a chunk of flesh hanging out of the ankle giving way to muscle. Mom cried while she saw the doctor wrap my small leg, she cried on her way back home and she cried all night. She could still cry if you asked her to narrate the incident. She still gets a lump in her throat when she talks of how severe she had to be while teaching my sister.
Over the years, we sisters learned, Mom didn't quit her job because she couldn't balance work and home. She quit because she didn't want to be around her daughters only during homework and dinner, she wanted in, in on our daily lives. Every second of it. She didn't want to be the 'scary mom' who 'made us do our homework', she wanted to be the one who picked us up from school and had lunch with us while we told her about our day. She didn't want to the mom who had to think twice before planning a summer holiday, she wanted to be the one taking us where we wanted and when we wanted. She wanted to be there, always. And she is. A guest once asked mom, whether her girls realized the sacrifice of her career she had made to bring them up? Mom simply said, I didn't sacrifice. I would have sacrificed their childhood had I not quit. My girls are not indebted. I wanted to be a mother first.
My Mom was born to be a MoM. The more feminist society would question my father and why he didn't stop his wife from quitting a job she loved and excelled at? However, our dad and we know better. He never asked mom to quit, she was allowed to earn and splurge at will. She was never questioned on her financial statements and where she spent her salary. She would have her weekly off on Thursday, while dad did on Sunday and they handled home and the kids just fine. She could have continued with her career without a question from my dad. With his support and encouragement Mom even started MBA. But, Ma wanted to be a mother first. It was her choice. It has always been her choice. She lives live on her own terms and following the right path.
As girls, we have learned our deepest values, our need to have an opinion, our ability to talk, our freedom to not be home bound, to have friends, to have a personal diary, the clothes we wear and the languages we speak, to chose what we do with our life and how we live it, the need to travel and be independent..from Mom. Whether it was the muslim influenced crazy phase where I called her 'Ammi', to even have the liberty to call her by her name, where she went from Mummy to Ma, to very lovingly Mumma. Everything and anything works with Ma.
For letting Mumma be who she is and accepting her for all her deep set values and her quirks, hats off to Daddy dearest who gave her all the space she ever needed and for giving us, the best gift of a life time.
(This was influenced by a Friend's Article I read this evening. 'The Myth of a Supermom' By Shaziaa Nigar. She has a different take, but I guess we both mean the same thing)
Our mom took off from work not when she was ill, but when we had exam prep leave. We never had a cook at home. We always had mom cooked meals. We never missed a submission in school, our science assignments always made it to the exhibition, our festival charts always made it to the school entrance corridors, we were always picked to read the news for the school every morning and deliver the welcome speech at special events in school, we always had large birthday parties and we never missed our friend's birthday party. We never went for tuition, mom was enough for our names to be in the top 10% of class. On Christmas, she would remember to send a gift for the school principal, our nun at the convent. Principal after principal I remember would look forward to that gift every year. During Diwali, we would visit our Hindu teachers and grace them with sweets. At home, she would cook us dishes that were typical of a festival. I don't remember a single time in school where I wondered 'How come I don't have that?'. We would have a table full of gifts and a very thoughtful cake every Birthday morning. I remember calling her at work once and telling her I had cut my finger while peeling a raw mango. All of 7, I remember crying over the phone and telling her how much it hurt. I don't remember how she reacted that evening on getting home or even what she said over the phone, But I remember the comfort I had of calling her and informing her.
As a 4 year old, she put me in a creche once, where I had injured myself bad enough to have had a chunk of flesh hanging out of the ankle giving way to muscle. Mom cried while she saw the doctor wrap my small leg, she cried on her way back home and she cried all night. She could still cry if you asked her to narrate the incident. She still gets a lump in her throat when she talks of how severe she had to be while teaching my sister.
Over the years, we sisters learned, Mom didn't quit her job because she couldn't balance work and home. She quit because she didn't want to be around her daughters only during homework and dinner, she wanted in, in on our daily lives. Every second of it. She didn't want to be the 'scary mom' who 'made us do our homework', she wanted to be the one who picked us up from school and had lunch with us while we told her about our day. She didn't want to the mom who had to think twice before planning a summer holiday, she wanted to be the one taking us where we wanted and when we wanted. She wanted to be there, always. And she is. A guest once asked mom, whether her girls realized the sacrifice of her career she had made to bring them up? Mom simply said, I didn't sacrifice. I would have sacrificed their childhood had I not quit. My girls are not indebted. I wanted to be a mother first.
My Mom was born to be a MoM. The more feminist society would question my father and why he didn't stop his wife from quitting a job she loved and excelled at? However, our dad and we know better. He never asked mom to quit, she was allowed to earn and splurge at will. She was never questioned on her financial statements and where she spent her salary. She would have her weekly off on Thursday, while dad did on Sunday and they handled home and the kids just fine. She could have continued with her career without a question from my dad. With his support and encouragement Mom even started MBA. But, Ma wanted to be a mother first. It was her choice. It has always been her choice. She lives live on her own terms and following the right path.
As girls, we have learned our deepest values, our need to have an opinion, our ability to talk, our freedom to not be home bound, to have friends, to have a personal diary, the clothes we wear and the languages we speak, to chose what we do with our life and how we live it, the need to travel and be independent..from Mom. Whether it was the muslim influenced crazy phase where I called her 'Ammi', to even have the liberty to call her by her name, where she went from Mummy to Ma, to very lovingly Mumma. Everything and anything works with Ma.
For letting Mumma be who she is and accepting her for all her deep set values and her quirks, hats off to Daddy dearest who gave her all the space she ever needed and for giving us, the best gift of a life time.
(This was influenced by a Friend's Article I read this evening. 'The Myth of a Supermom' By Shaziaa Nigar. She has a different take, but I guess we both mean the same thing)
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