I have tried writing this so many times and this time I hope I get it right. Pardon the simplicity of this post. The veteran blogger has given me a chance to put my thoughts to paper. Well of course now there is barely any paper to put it on. The world has been getting smaller and time has been moving quicker than ever. Feelings on the web and instant messaging to share the latest gossips. Amidst all this, there have been memories from childhood that are shared. One such memory which kept coming back are those of my school days.
There were girls in class who wore their hair neatly in plaits, girls with short hair which was low maintenance and so easy to manage and then there were some who’d just pull all their hair back into a messy ponytail. Of the lot, there were the ones most would envy, the ones who had pretty hair they would just leave open - for the world to see and admire. I was not very fond of the way my hair was, perhaps because it was not so frequently shampooed and was oilier than I would prefer it to be. But it was always pulled tightly into plaits and only special occasions called for letting down my hair. Better were the days when I would have my hair braided into a French plait - that was so uncommon back in those days; and then I’d finally be the envy of the class. But even on those rare days, I wished I could be one of those carefree ones, letting down my hair or just pulling it back into a ponytail. I have had friends come over and get their hair done by my mother just because she did it so well. Those days had not seen the magnificence of YouTube or any other means for skill or knowledge-sharing. She had learnt to do the French plait from a salon we once went to get our haircut.
Recipes were only shared when food was shared and enjoyed. Again I was one of the few who enjoyed wholesome lunches during school break as my mother had dedicated her life to the well-being of her three children and a husband with a job that was too demanding. My mother’s idli chutney was popular amongst most, if not all, in my class. I never had a morsel to take back, the lunch box used to be licked clean. And funnily enough, I envied the girls who would rush to the school canteen, a dirham for a mini pizza or samosa and a juice. My mother had learnt the chutney recipe from our Tamilian neighbor whose chutney we loved.
Today I realize all that I had but did not appreciate. I envied the girls whose mothers did not have the time to braid their hair, they had to do it all themselves. I wanted to be one of those girls who had to rush to the canteen and get the small meal before it ran out only because their mothers had to juggle work and home. I envied those girls whose mothers had to balance their time between family and other commitments. I took for granted the mother who dedicated her life to my wellbeing, the woman of many talents left unpolished because she put us much ahead of her own life. She took time to learn what she thought was important for her children. She even learnt to play Farmville, once popular among many, because her daughter told her it is a really good past time.
Now as a mother myself, I race against an example that was set for me, someone I know I can never match, one so selfless and bountiful. I hate not being able to do a French plait or even brush my hair like she used to. But then that is life. As the wise ones always say, you appreciate what you have only when it is no longer with you.
I know you are out there Amma, and this is me, telling you - I wish I had the chance to convey how much we appreciated you, how much you made us feel special and how much I wish you were here right now. Thank you for never expecting our gratitude in return for all your effort.
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