Dear Ma,
It's Mothers Day today.
As I was looking at your picture, dusting off with a kleenex, I was thinking of you.
" What do you remember your mother most for?" - was a question posted by a celebrated writer in the Face Book
Ma, form high up there you must by now know what FB is all about. I don't want or need to explain that to you now, I believe.
You must also wonder why am I writing in English, not in our mother tongue, Bengali? Well, because your grand daughters and their off springs will not be able to read or understand that language so much, but your blood runs through them. May be you have passed on some DNA of yours in them...I don't know...But think you kind of live through them to me.
Now, the question- what did you give me that is most precious?
Ma, I bow down in shame - how can I judge that? I kneel down in gratitude for what you have given me...I don't have the capacity to count that really.
You gave me birth ( oh I know now with how much pain and joy...I have gone through that). I came with your flesh, your blood. You nourished me with your milk, stayed up endless nights to bring me up with sweat and tears.
You were the most proud person when I shone.
You cried with me when I was hurt.
You didn't bother to hold back any thing, scolded me when I strayed away and needed the right direction, held me tight when I fell apart.
But, Ma what I remember most after all these years, is your love for beauty- that deep need and appreciation of it in life.
You were beautiful yourself, indeed.
I remember how one day - it was your last year probably, you asked me to bring me a jar of " Those new thing - what do they call it age defiant? Garnier or some thing?"
A smirk faded in my face as I wiped off my tears. This half paralyzed, bed ridden stroke victim still wants to reach for a jar of beauty!
No, that's not the point really.
You tried so hard to keep our home beautiful- with so little resources that you had on those days. How you saved from the grocery to buy a bouquet of flowers to dress up the dining table, I remember when I went to the market with you.
Most of all, you knew when to stop...which so many people don't. Now looking back I feel awe struck that you had that style, and probably I had never told you.
In your time, and where you were coming from, people were totally unaware of these little things that make such difference in life.
You were never noticed for that. Probably you even did not know you were quite a Martha Steward in your time. And no one ever noticed.
But I did. And I do it more now, after you are gone.
You gave me that keen sense of appreciation of true beauty.
You worked hard to keep beauty in tact in relationships and how carefully and meticulously you tread ed the ocean of family dynamics !
You tried to keep life beautiful, living beautifully and that is what you had passed on to me.
It's Mothers Day today.
As I was looking at your picture, dusting off with a kleenex, I was thinking of you.
" What do you remember your mother most for?" - was a question posted by a celebrated writer in the Face Book
Ma, form high up there you must by now know what FB is all about. I don't want or need to explain that to you now, I believe.
You must also wonder why am I writing in English, not in our mother tongue, Bengali? Well, because your grand daughters and their off springs will not be able to read or understand that language so much, but your blood runs through them. May be you have passed on some DNA of yours in them...I don't know...But think you kind of live through them to me.
Now, the question- what did you give me that is most precious?
Ma, I bow down in shame - how can I judge that? I kneel down in gratitude for what you have given me...I don't have the capacity to count that really.
You gave me birth ( oh I know now with how much pain and joy...I have gone through that). I came with your flesh, your blood. You nourished me with your milk, stayed up endless nights to bring me up with sweat and tears.
You were the most proud person when I shone.
You cried with me when I was hurt.
You didn't bother to hold back any thing, scolded me when I strayed away and needed the right direction, held me tight when I fell apart.
But, Ma what I remember most after all these years, is your love for beauty- that deep need and appreciation of it in life.
You were beautiful yourself, indeed.
I remember how one day - it was your last year probably, you asked me to bring me a jar of " Those new thing - what do they call it age defiant? Garnier or some thing?"
A smirk faded in my face as I wiped off my tears. This half paralyzed, bed ridden stroke victim still wants to reach for a jar of beauty!
No, that's not the point really.
You tried so hard to keep our home beautiful- with so little resources that you had on those days. How you saved from the grocery to buy a bouquet of flowers to dress up the dining table, I remember when I went to the market with you.
Most of all, you knew when to stop...which so many people don't. Now looking back I feel awe struck that you had that style, and probably I had never told you.
In your time, and where you were coming from, people were totally unaware of these little things that make such difference in life.
You were never noticed for that. Probably you even did not know you were quite a Martha Steward in your time. And no one ever noticed.
But I did. And I do it more now, after you are gone.
You gave me that keen sense of appreciation of true beauty.
You worked hard to keep beauty in tact in relationships and how carefully and meticulously you tread ed the ocean of family dynamics !
You tried to keep life beautiful, living beautifully and that is what you had passed on to me.
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