Tags:
Journalism of Courage
Lost in the folds of a bridal sari, my mother stepped into wedlock and teenagehood simultaneously. In those days, a girl would not just be married to a man but to his entire family and way of life. She later told of how she had sacrificed her adolescence to the customs and traditions of a conservative joint family.
Responsibilities as a housekeeper fell on her delicate shoulders from day one. Keeping very early hours, she would feed everyone and then gulp down a few morsels to keep herself fit for other chores. Her meals were simple. No delicacies, no variety. Even garlic and onion were forbidden. In short, she practised abstinence of a high order. In such an environment, my mother seemed to forget her childhood and attained a maturity much beyond her age.
Years rolled by. Moving out of our ancestral town, we ultimately dropped anchor in Mumbai. One day my father passed away. That is when I made it my mission to keep my mother happy.
As time passed, the bond between us grew stronger. Bed time was gossip hour. She8217;d give me an account of what was going on. Where the PM had gone. Who had won the Miss India contest. How prices were soaring. The source of these updates was a small transistor my father had gifted her on their golden anniversary. When I8217;d be out for work, it would provide her company.
Despite an orthodox upbringing, my mother had unusual poise. She would avoid walking props. She did not like being called old. She kept homemade beauty aids handy. Unable to prepare such aids in her advancing years, she would ask me to fetch creams and packs for her, specifying even the brands.
But her advancing years worried me. Diabetic and cardiac problems had made her frail. Finding the ailments incurable, she started ignoring advice on diet and medication. One day, she said, 8220;Beta, I do not wish to depart like this. Before I die, I wish to relish everything.8221; What did she want? 8220;Ice cream, chaat, bhel, cake, pastry8230; everything I always longed for but never tasted.8221; Probably, in the evening of her life, she wished to relive her childhood without inhibitions or taboos. She would name a delicacy and I8217;d ensure she had it. However, her blood pressure and sugar levels started rising alarmingly. Her craving for such delicious items had made her carefree about her health. But her condition would make me very distressed.
That evening, she had asked for chocolate. She looked so happy enjoying every bite. With shriveled hands, she blessed me. But suddenly, I noticed her getting restless, sweating profusely. Before I could do anything, she collapsed. She had left me for ever. But even in that tragic moment, I felt a unique contentment, the contentment of fulfilling the wishes of my roommate, my best friend in life.
