An Apotheosis of Godhood
Mom! Well, my Mom is exceptional in her own way, and by all means she deserves a write up doesn’t she. So much that I can write, but so much more that is still a mystery, yet to be discovered; parts of her unexplored world. She is this stereotypical, conservative mom who is overprotective of her kids; stopping to hesitate to make decisions both for herself and for her kids, at various instances of her life. The pampering is eternal – a life times package.
My mom was born in the beginning of fifties, a woman who grew up with the values of the east, or rather that of the past- purist values and beliefs. However she is one woman who is sending me loads of surprises, off late. The moments she rose to the occasion to decide; or perhaps they were all well deliberated decisions, a product of past experiences, and I was only too dumb to see them until they became too obvious.
I was always under an impression that my Mom was this rigid, inexorable woman struck with her opinionated thoughts. But it took a lot of time for me (as usual) to decipher her true self, the fashion in which she had adapted to the changing ways of life. Really makes me wonder, if she is more modern, me or her??? Call it adaptation or just reluctance to complain. Whatever it is, even to be passive, it takes a lot of discipline to contain oneself. Well adaptation is not a new lesson on the curriculum for an Indian woman. Adaptation is just a euphemism for the state of being a “door mat”, in numerous cases. Makes one to reason if “this” is, perhaps, one of the secret to the survival of a lot many Indian marriages.
A lot of women of the past had at least learned to become one (door mat) once they were married and they master the art quiet early, under the hands of their unyielding husbands. My mom was another master in this trade.
It is am amazement, for me to look back into her life, as in how much a woman can persevere, or tolerate. It aches to imagine, putting myself in her shoes, I would have given away very easily with no ifs ands or buts. What’s amazing is the amount of strength and independence education and career could give; such privileges being denied to the women of past they become a subject to destiny, nevertheless they go ahead to make ultimate sacrifices for the sake of their family or children.
Well this doesn’t mean my mom was an illiterate, no…. she had finished her schooling (P.U.C), but things were still the same in the past, no matter how educated one was, I guess. These are just observations of what I had seen her as, through these years. I am sure there are loads of other mothers who share the same platform with my mom. All martyrs in their own respect.
My mom is an embodiment of contradiction, or at least she appears to me like one. I could just imagine how confusing it could be to raise kids through the modern age. With conservatism and modernism conflicting with each other, and just to make the matters worse the lack of sufficient freedom. The number of times she had to really stop and decide; the number times she had to listen to her brain signals rather than the ones from her hearts; I think I know how tough it is.
Alas, all this realization and enlightenment took decades to happen. Like I really needed to see my mom from a distance, to have a clear picture of what metal she is made up of. Now, all those memories of silly misunderstandings, needless conversations for trivialities which I had with her agonises me. Those words spilled, and thus no use of crying over, would have inflicted so much more hurt.
My mom was born in the beginning of fifties, a woman who grew up with the values of the east, or rather that of the past- purist values and beliefs. However she is one woman who is sending me loads of surprises, off late. The moments she rose to the occasion to decide; or perhaps they were all well deliberated decisions, a product of past experiences, and I was only too dumb to see them until they became too obvious.
I was always under an impression that my Mom was this rigid, inexorable woman struck with her opinionated thoughts. But it took a lot of time for me (as usual) to decipher her true self, the fashion in which she had adapted to the changing ways of life. Really makes me wonder, if she is more modern, me or her??? Call it adaptation or just reluctance to complain. Whatever it is, even to be passive, it takes a lot of discipline to contain oneself. Well adaptation is not a new lesson on the curriculum for an Indian woman. Adaptation is just a euphemism for the state of being a “door mat”, in numerous cases. Makes one to reason if “this” is, perhaps, one of the secret to the survival of a lot many Indian marriages.
A lot of women of the past had at least learned to become one (door mat) once they were married and they master the art quiet early, under the hands of their unyielding husbands. My mom was another master in this trade.
It is am amazement, for me to look back into her life, as in how much a woman can persevere, or tolerate. It aches to imagine, putting myself in her shoes, I would have given away very easily with no ifs ands or buts. What’s amazing is the amount of strength and independence education and career could give; such privileges being denied to the women of past they become a subject to destiny, nevertheless they go ahead to make ultimate sacrifices for the sake of their family or children.
Well this doesn’t mean my mom was an illiterate, no…. she had finished her schooling (P.U.C), but things were still the same in the past, no matter how educated one was, I guess. These are just observations of what I had seen her as, through these years. I am sure there are loads of other mothers who share the same platform with my mom. All martyrs in their own respect.
My mom is an embodiment of contradiction, or at least she appears to me like one. I could just imagine how confusing it could be to raise kids through the modern age. With conservatism and modernism conflicting with each other, and just to make the matters worse the lack of sufficient freedom. The number of times she had to really stop and decide; the number times she had to listen to her brain signals rather than the ones from her hearts; I think I know how tough it is.
Alas, all this realization and enlightenment took decades to happen. Like I really needed to see my mom from a distance, to have a clear picture of what metal she is made up of. Now, all those memories of silly misunderstandings, needless conversations for trivialities which I had with her agonises me. Those words spilled, and thus no use of crying over, would have inflicted so much more hurt.
My mom is missing me too, and this is painfully obvious from her voice, every time I talk to her over the phone. I think realisations occur on both sides. Neither that I was angel whom she failed to learn nor that she wasn’t concerned about me in the past, it would be a sin to make such a comment. Only we feel the loss of a thing, more deeply in its absence, right?
These words are a tribute to my mom (Well, may be to all the mothers in the world), who is this strong woman, a survivor who has shed skins, evolved, mutated with the growing resistance. Like true metamorphosis at various instances of her life, leaving her own wishes and dreams behind. “Like a candle in the wind”, banal, nevertheless true.
Mother - Gods greatest gift to mankind, he only made them to divide his own labour, because he couldn’t manifest himself with flesh and soul in every house; our first relationship in this world; the woman who teaches us to say excuse me before we could interrupt her in the public; the woman who is always there around but we only fail to notice this obvious but still invisible soul.
Now that I am living away form her, I feel the pinch of her absence. Any sight of a mom- daughter scene turns me emotional. I still remember how I cried in the arms of Esma’s (friend’s) mom when I met her after a long time, I guess I only saw my own mom in her. Mothers are omnipresent entities; (if you are a little lucky) you would notice they are everywhere. No matter how you call them: Amma, Ma, Mom, Mother…she is the same noble soul…..another parallelism to god…call him by different name, but He is this one omnipotent, all absolute soul.
So does this omnipresent, godly soul gets what she deserves. Do we give her what she is worthy of. Many a time, no, at least in my case, I owe a alot to her, an obligation-immortal which keeps you rewarding with perennial love. Love-unconditional, Love-absolute. Love is God isn’t it. Now we know what we could equate our moms to. Mother: An Apotheosis of Godhood on earth.
P.S: Ma, I Love You!
Your Most Spoilt Child
Vani
These words are a tribute to my mom (Well, may be to all the mothers in the world), who is this strong woman, a survivor who has shed skins, evolved, mutated with the growing resistance. Like true metamorphosis at various instances of her life, leaving her own wishes and dreams behind. “Like a candle in the wind”, banal, nevertheless true.
Mother - Gods greatest gift to mankind, he only made them to divide his own labour, because he couldn’t manifest himself with flesh and soul in every house; our first relationship in this world; the woman who teaches us to say excuse me before we could interrupt her in the public; the woman who is always there around but we only fail to notice this obvious but still invisible soul.
Now that I am living away form her, I feel the pinch of her absence. Any sight of a mom- daughter scene turns me emotional. I still remember how I cried in the arms of Esma’s (friend’s) mom when I met her after a long time, I guess I only saw my own mom in her. Mothers are omnipresent entities; (if you are a little lucky) you would notice they are everywhere. No matter how you call them: Amma, Ma, Mom, Mother…she is the same noble soul…..another parallelism to god…call him by different name, but He is this one omnipotent, all absolute soul.
So does this omnipresent, godly soul gets what she deserves. Do we give her what she is worthy of. Many a time, no, at least in my case, I owe a alot to her, an obligation-immortal which keeps you rewarding with perennial love. Love-unconditional, Love-absolute. Love is God isn’t it. Now we know what we could equate our moms to. Mother: An Apotheosis of Godhood on earth.
P.S: Ma, I Love You!
Your Most Spoilt Child
Vani
Comments
4th para from down was just awesome.made me cry