I more often than not presumed that the different phases of my life would evolve and flow peacefully like a silent river, the one without any whirlpool, the one without any strong currents. At sub-conscious level, I failed to understand the reason for this presumption. At the conscious level though, the reasons were quiet obvious. Being born in a typical middle class Indian family in Mumbai, where parental support forms the bedrock of one’s very existence, I never made a conscious effort to analyze the nature of my relationship with my parents, especially my mother. As any other kid born with my background, my life was scripted and I played the part.
I never imagined that the script would have twists and turns; that the script would have drama, the script would force me to make choices, the script would have moments entwined with a deep sense of joy and sorrow at the same time, a deep sense of gratitude and loss in the same breath. I never imagined that my mother would end up being the protagonist of the script of my life. This story is only a weak attempt at verbalizing the deep sense of gratitude that I have for my mother. For I know that I cannot avoid the twists and turns and the highs and lows of the script, but I can, without doubt, avoid the doubts of the script going awry, thanks to the very presence of my mother.
It was the time of my wedding. The time which was supposed to be joyous, time of merrymaking, of fun, of laughter, of getting exhausted in making preparations and at the same time relishing the very fact of getting exhausted. Knowing my temperament, when I did decide to get married, my mother was more relieved rather than being happy. The sense of relief was short lived, in a good sense as every waking moment of her life for a year preceding my marriage was spent in thinking, planning and preparing for my wedding. Every morning the breakfast time was spent in discussing the guest list, of who all will be invited, who all will not be invited and the reason why she/he will not have the honour of being invited in the wedding of the year As the D day was nearing, every free day was spent inundating every square inch of free space of my house with shopping bags! In the midst of the preparation, little did I anticipate that we as a family in general and my mother in particular were going to face the biggest test of our life. The clothes were stitched, the hall was booked, the cards were sent out and we were about to start practicing for the pre-wedding songs and dances. The countdown had begun. All that we were anticipating for the next twenty days was fun, music, food, dance, laughter, tears of joy and celebration.
However, this was not meant to be! Life and relationship is what happens to you when you are busy planning for something else! Just twenty days before my wedding, my maternal uncle, being the eldest brother of my mother and whom she was very close to fell sick. With the initial diagnosis we all thought that it was jaundice and that my uncle would quickly recover. However, when the condition of my uncle did not improve, it sort of ringed an alarm bell. My uncle was subjected to a number of tests. None of us in general and my mother in particular had the strength of knowing the outcome of these tests. He was diagnosed with gastro intestinal cancer of stage 4D; a stage from which there is no reversal, no return. It was hard, for the lack of a better word, for us to digest that something of this nature was happening. It couldn’t have happened! How could the script take such a tragic twist? In the middle of the wedding drums, we were not prepared to listen to the death knell! I was broken and shattered from within. As per Hindu customs, as the cards were sent out, it was not feasible to postpone the wedding. I was worried about my mother. To give you a sense of the depth of her sentiments, she cries when she sees an emotional movie, she cries on hearing anybody’s pains. My mother had to pray. But she was clueless about what she was praying for.
My uncle’s death was inevitable. It was a foregone conclusion. The only thing that was not foregone was the timing of his last moments. When would it happen? Will it happen a week before my wedding? Will it happen on the wedding day? Will he die immediately after my wedding? Can we do anything to change our immediate destiny? Can we do anything to control it? If not, what should we do? In light of this, my mother was faced with a tough choice? Should she be praying for her brother’s peaceful and pain free death so as to reduce his pain? Alternately, should she be praying for the longevity of his life by a couple of days just to ensure that her daughter’s wedding passes off without any event? If she prays for the latter, will she not be a cause of her brother’s unbearable pain? If she prays for the former, will she not be a cause for the most important event of her daughter’s life going down the drain? In the midst of all this, she was just progressing mechanically. Little did she know that she did not even have the choice to pray either ways! The only choice that she had and which she did exercise was the choice to be happy, the choice to pretend that everything was normal, the choice to indicate that she was in control of her own self and consequently the situation. Just one day before my wedding, we had an engagement ceremony.
I was getting ready in the parlor when I received call from my cousin. I missed my beat. The only sentence that my cousin told me was that I will have to be strong. There was no need for him to say anything else for I knew what happened. Silent tears started trickling down my face. I did not have the guts to face my mother! I felt selfish! I felt guilty of the fact that I was celebrating. I felt guilty of my very existence for my mother could not mourn because of me. When I met my mother after getting ready, to my very surprise, she was smiling. I assumed that she might not be aware of my uncle’s death. I assumed that knowing her, my family members might have refrained from telling her. I therefore did not tell my mother that I am aware of everything for I wanted her to enjoy my engagement ceremony. My mother was in complete control of the situation. She was taking stock of everything! She was welcoming the guests with a smile on her face, she was supervising the ceremonies, and she was dancing with us at regular intervals. In the midst of all this, I did notice that she use to disappear at regular intervals. However, being the bride, I failed to realize the reason for her disappearance. Almost at the end when the function was about to get over, I overheard my mother telling she would leave for the funeral. I was shocked about the fact that she was aware about the tragedy. If she was aware about it, why did she not tell me? Why did she choose to remain silent? On the contrary, why did she proactively participate in the engagement function? The biggest question that started haunting my mind was that how did she has the strength to face this?
I was taken back home by my father. I couldn’t sleep as I was waiting for my mother to return. The only questioned that I asked her was that “You were aware about it?” She did not say anything and simply hugged me. Thereafter, she only replied, “I cannot reverse what happened; it was not in my control. It was not the choice that I was given. The only choice that I gave myself was the choice to ensure that the biggest day in your life is not overshadowed by my sense of loss and pain. For the only balm for me which lessened my pain and gave me the strength to face the situation was your smile” I was at a loss of words on hearing this. Once again I was assured of the fact that that I cannot avoid the twists and turns and the highs and lows of the script of my life, but I can, without doubt, avoid the doubts of the script going awry, thanks to the very presence of my mother.
I LOVE YOU MOM!
