Friday, January 30, 2015

She desired for me both


Not every mother has her boulevard littered by hurdles, not every woman loves her child as much as she hates her life. But for my mother, my house was certainly an unaccustomed earth. Born and brought up in a family not impoverished, she was flung into a marriage where promises bore little fruit. Her husband (my father) was never good with money. He lost what we had, gained nothing in return. There were rifts in their relation, gloom hovered on all sides. This was her house, her new house, a house where promises bore little fruit.

I happened to be an only fruit. It was important for her to sow me, to reap me, to toil from dawn to noon so that she can savor the sweetness by her dusk. But life, even in its most mundane form, can be terrifyingly demanding. Her fruit could hardly be nourished without funds. The school fee, the tuition fee, the money for clothes and all my needs. She could compromise, sacrifice on quality and on comforts to tend only to the basics. But no, she did so not.

For her, it was not about ‘this’ or ‘that’. She desired for me both ‘this’ and ‘that’.

She sacrificed leisure, she discarded luxury, good clothing, delightful food, even good sleep. But they all belonged to her. The loss was all hers, the gain all mine. I profited from her misery, she drained her life to feed mine.

South Point (one of the top schools in the country) is where I went, branded games I played with my mates, Moustache I draped on my legs, Bata adorned my feet, and imported apples were the daily rites.

Yes, there was the easy way out. To separate from my dad, redeem that lost life. But no, she did not walk that happy path. Not out of love for a man, but out of love for a child. Her child should be spared no physical luxury, should be accorded no emotional misery….

For her, it was not about ‘this’ or ‘that’. She desired for me both ‘this’ and ‘that’.




[This post is a part of #UseYourAnd activity at BlogAdda in association with Gillette Venus]






2 comments:

  1. This is a delicate piece, Ritesh. A bow to your Mom. Loved the way you articulated.

    ReplyDelete

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