How Can I Ever Repay You Mother?

I have asked this question to myself a thousand times

When our Value Education teacher asked us to write an essay on our mother, mine looked something like this —

‘’My mother is very beautiful. She gets up early in the morning and makes breakfast for everyone. My mother cooks delicious foods and I love eating different varieties of foods prepared by her. My mother is beautiful, sweet, and hard-working and she never gets tired of work. I love to play hide and seek with mom. I love my mom because she has the best smile in the world.’’

I feel so stupid when I think of the essays we wrote on mothers when we were in school. All our essays turned out to be the same. From the first letter to the last one. As if none of our mothers were produced in the same factory.

Its been 22 years now since I used to write this kind of essay. A lot has changed in these 22 years and if someone asked me to write an essay on my mom, today, I wouldn’t know where to begin.

My soulful journey with my mother

Every mother is different yet special in her own way. From where I see my mom now, she was the strongest woman I have ever met in my life. Having gone through so many struggles and challenges, my mom gave me all that I wished for. Thankfully my wishes were hardly a few and my mother appreciated this quality of mine.

In my childhood days, mom used to dress me as a vegetable seller or as a bride or as a pink bunny rabbit or as a joker for the fancy dress competitions held in school. I was small, and she took advantage of that. Whenever I refused something, she would just pick me up and get going. My crying never bothered her and if it did one slap and my crying would vanish in thin air.

She scolded me whenever she thought was necessary and if things were too serious I would even get a beating from her. And I hated her for that.

But our equation changed after my father passed away. She would cry the whole day and that would melt my heart. I would do anything that would make her happy and she would try and fulfill whatever wish I had.

My mother was very gullible and trusted anyone. Being without any male protection in the house, I matured earlier. In a few years, our roles had reversed.

Now she was my child and I was her mother.

My mother was socially boycotted the day she lost her husband but she never let that affect me. She ensured I was getting proper education, shelter, and food on my plate. If ever I wished for something she couldn't afford, she would start saving money or work in extra shifts as a teacher to get me what I wanted.

Despite the financial troubles, our house echoed with chuckles and laughter. My mom had created a world for me where I was protected, loved, cared for, and gifted with abundant happiness. More than I could handle.

She spoke openly about her crushes, school affair, marriage, and her life after that. These were not the conversations a mother would have with a daughter who had not even turned 18. But I still don't know why she shared all those things with me, even when I was underaged for it.

But today when I think of it, I feel grateful to god and mom that she shared all the secrets of her life. Today I just have to go back in time and pick up the right memory and it helps me find a proper solution.

Singing and dancing at the window, making fun of people passing by, cracking adult jokes on intimate scenes, making fun of each other, and acting crazy, we have done it all.

My mom was destined to share only 18 years of her life with me but those 18 years have set the road straight for my future journey.

A lady who cried because others humiliated her never took a word of humiliation when it came to me. She pounced like a lioness if she ever felt any danger around me. In such times, she didn't even bother about her relationship with that person. If she perceived them as a danger, she would not allow them anywhere nearby me.

She blushed with me when I shared about my crushes and showed interest in every activity that happened at school. She would be happy if my crush looked at me and him dating someone else upset her too. We would gossip about boys in my school and classify them as to who was the best dating material.

She was traditional-looking but with a liberal mindset when it came to my upbringing. I thought she was very weak because of her regular crying episodes. But I was very wrong.

Losing her mother, her husband, and her real sister must have been so hard for her. If I were in her place, I don't think I would ever be able to manage to live with all of that pain. Really! hats off to her.

I admit mom that I was wrong about you. You were and still are the strongest woman I have ever known. Enduring so much physical and emotional pain, you picked yourself up and brought up your daughter with amazing values. You gave her the best of life and education. You feared right, what would happen to her future.

Let’s talk about today

It's been 15 years since she passed away and I have come a long way in my life. If she could see my writings, she would be grinning from ear to ear because she loved when I conversed in English which was her dream. She had done her schooling from a vernacular medium and English speaking for her was a far-fetched luxury.

When I think of all that she had gone through in her life, I am surprised she was alive till age 48. Her being schizophrenic was expected, given the people she had dealt with all her life and without uttering a word in return.

So have a look at me, my mother, I look exactly like you, I speak good English, I have a job, a dance class of my own, and a freelance writing career. Yes, the marriage thing that you had waited for is still pending, but I promise that will be taken care of too when the right person comes along.

Also, I can feel you guiding me from a trillion miles away, ensuring your daughter is safe and happy and peaceful at all times.

You brought me into this world despite knowing it could risk your life and you left this world while holding my hand to let me know you will always be around.

This may sound cheesy mother, but how will I ever repay you, I have no clue.

Bhavna Narula, 2021. All rights reserved by the author.