I miss our mum. Anyone would say this after they’ve lost their mother. I miss her because she was different. Everyone says this about their own mothers. I know everyone says their mum was special but ours really really REALLY was special. Nothing new there. But really, what made her so different?
In my life, I have never met a woman who could command the kind of respect and awe that she could without ever once raising her voice. Neither was it the kind of awe that comes from fearing a person – no, no, no – this was the kind that caused someone to respect you without even understanding why. That’s what I always thought of our mum – the fierce, strong and gracious woman. Then there’s the other side to her that I started to get glimpses of after our dad died – the forbearance she displayed, the patience and spirit of forgiveness when others attacked her, the vulnerability, the one who always used to pay for snacks/food on trips during her college years while other girls wouldn’t shell out a paisa (to the point that her professor had to tell her to be ‘selfish’!) and oh, almost forgot, the selflessness and generosity. She was never quick to judge and so many times, she would cut me short if she heard me judging or criticizing a person unfairly or too quickly. She could really see all sides to a person.
She was so the epitome of ‘unflakiness’, no-nonsense when it came to dating, relationships, feelings, puppy love etc. etc. For her those meant nothing, it was more important to do something with yourself first before you even think about trying to bring another person into your life and sharing it with them.
It’s a running joke in our family that our dad was the more generous one and our mum was the one who use to be more economical e.g. tips. Dad wouldn’t hesitate to pull out a Rs.100 or Rs. 200 if he thought someone had done a good job. Sometimes he’d do so if he was in a good mood and other times he did it to make the person happy because everyone likes it when their work and service is appreciated. Mum on the other hand was the one who gave in measured doses meaning if you’d done your job well. She felt that people should want to do their jobs well, first and foremost. She always hated it when before she could even think of giving a tip, someone’s already standing with their hand out or lingering around. More than anything she couldn’t stand it when the service you received became directly proportional to the amount of tip you gave. That’s when she put her foot down, she was a firm believer in serving people (each and every single patron, client etc.) with heart and dedication.
When you look at it, both our parents kind of had the same principle going – they just approached it from different ends and different angles. One thing they both were good at was sizing up a person. They had their strengths and their weaknesses in that department. Everyone does. When dad was ambitious or eager about a project or investment, sometimes he would not heed his own intuition about the people involved. Mum could always weed them out. But when it came to regular people, dad was pretty good. He could suss out people i.e. figure out their personality etc. It didn’t mean that he put people into categories of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ but he could tell you how they worked and what they expected. He knew those with tender and good hearts underneath all the boisterousness, bad manners, mistakes and everything. He also knew those with not so tender and good hearts underneath all the sweetness and smooth talking. Ahem. And he spoke to everyone, high and low, made no difference to him. People were always willing and ready to talk to him and he always managed to get them laughing, if not, smiling. I, from my journey as a kid to young adult to adult, have gone from hero-worship, to cringing with embarrassment to delightful surprise to respect and admiration for dad.
Mum believed in actions speaking louder than words. So until and unless she saw an action which reflected something, she didn’t really put her faith or trust in people. The bottom line was always that actions speak louder than words.
I do not remember a single time where Ma was absent from our lives, from infancy to adulthood. She was always there, ready, standing guard to see us off to school or trips or to friends places and would be there when we got back. She prided herself on the fact that our lunchboxes were judged the ‘healthiest’ when we were at the international school – tuna sandwich, fruits, ONE snack (small size) and that was it. She did everything that we’d expect your everyday ‘supermums’ to do – the cooking, cleaning, gardening, sewing, packing, praying etc. She drove my brother (very safely,well within the speed limit) to football practice, drove us for piano/violin/swimming practice, hosted our birthday parties, apologized profusely when she left my brother’s friend behind in the city on a birthday outing (gulp, to be fair, there were A LOT of boys) etc. Yet despite her busy schedule as a professional mum, she was the wife of a diplomat who took in the ladies of the embassy under her wing, brought them together and presided over them like a mother and friend. She tried her hand at bridge (found it tough), took part in mahjong get-together’s, played a spot of tennis, decided that she wanted to do karate (yah, we were all surprised, I think she got her green belt), loved to take part in DIY flower-making sessions, avid cook and baker and power walker extraordinaire! My sis kept up with her on her little foot powered skootie while mum would power walk her to school.
Ma would dutifully walk my other sis across the pedestrian crossing nearly every morning and afternoon, so that she could go to school…which was located all but next to the pedestrian crossing on the other side of the road. She’d patiently hear out my youngest sister’s threats of “I’m running away from home” and would wish her a safe and happy journey – then she’d watch as my sister would pack her things (in front of her) into a bundle and hang it on the end of a pole (we had read/watched too much) and walk to the end of the driveway to our gate. Ma would watch from her bedroom window to see if she’d make it past the gate. One day, she did and Ma let her sit on the corner of the road for a few minutes before finding her and bringing her home.
She was our ‘supermum’ and ‘Mosquito champion’ – she never missed! I don’t believe I ever saw her get sick. The maximum would be a day and then she’d be up. She had the mightiest will I have ever known, she could actually will her cold, cough, headache etc. to go and it would. As you get older, you realize perhaps she was masking it a bit but we believed that she never got sick. It was a miracle.
All mothers have eyes at the back of their heads. She always knew what we were up to, always.
When I thought my studies would be in jeopardy after staying home so long, I had cried because I felt helpless to do anything about it. I remember her crying when she saw me cry and saying ‘Oh my boi (‘dear’ in our language), it hurts me so much whenever this happens to you.’ I already had a bit of a reputation in my family of somehow managing to find the uphill road. But my parents always seem to know how much I was hurting inside, always. They also seemed to know that I use to put myself down a lot too. I’ve never met parents who would so willingly and with full awareness and comprehension, continue to trust and believe in their kids, despite and inspite of our shortcomings and mistakes.
She really was the perfect amalgamation of so many roles: woman, daughter, sister, friend, wife, mother, daughter-in-law etc. She lived by her beliefs and by her faith and though we’re all human and I’m sure even Ma was not above reproach, I can honestly say, that I have never met another woman like her – you could never fault her for not sincerely trying and doing. She would always try…..try to forgive and then forgive, try to be patient and be patient, try to push through pain and finally push through it, try to do better and did better. She never stopped doing that till the day she died. She lived on such a different plane all together and I know that right now she’d feel embarrassed by what I’m typing but she’d understand that this is my way of showing my appreciation for her and those who knew her would agree with what I’ve written above.
Her older sister keeps saying, she was just too good, too good that people walked all over her and hurt her. That’s so not the way I see my mother. She was too good that people took advantage and she knew it. But she gave of herself because she had a big heart and when you have a big heart, to regular folks, it just looks impossible that one person can give that much but she could. One of the advantages of having a big heart and also one of the biggest disadvantages.. She would often worryingly fret over how hurt I’m going to get in this world because of my big ol’ sensitive heart. I didn’t see it at the time that she had the same kind of heart. I didn’t see it at the time that Pa had the same big heart. So they both knew what they were talking about. Like she said, you’re father is sensitive, I’m sensitive so it’s only natural that our children should be sensitive too! Thank the Lord for big-hearted people.
I missed Ma at her own funeral; when people would come up to me, look for me, talk to me, question me with things such as money for the coffin, supplies for refreshments and food, greeting guests, accepting our traditional shawls, the step-by-step account of mum’s decline, what clothes to dress her in, formaldehyde injection so that the body doesn’t decompose, the cleaning of her body, the arrangement of the room, the setting up of the chairs/benches for people who were coming and so on and so forth. I miss her when we have to make decisions in the family, when grandma get sick, when people don’t listen to us because they think we’re still kids. I miss her the most at these moments because I would instinctively turn to look for her to ask her what the best thing to do would be and she wasn’t there anymore. Neither dad, nor her.
Ma, what shawl should I give? Ma, how many shawls are appropriate according to custom? Ma,how are we related to that so-and-so? Ma, do we have to go and mingle right now? Ma had masterfully been able to combine everything we think is important today – her tribal identity, her position as the wife of the eldest son, her role as daughter and mother, her role as a modern contemporary woman but above all she always, always remembered that she was a child of God, first and foremost.
So much fell on to our mother’s shoulders and I didn’t quite know how heavy those burdens were till they were handed to us. At first it was just questions related to responsibility and after, when time has gone by a bit, you just miss not having them around to enjoy some of their favourite things. Ma, are you sure you want to oil my hair? Thank you Ma for cooking that. Ma, let’s watch that programme, Nigella’s on TV being seductive again and Ma would say how much she wish she would tie up her hair! Or if a James Bond movies would be on, I’d tell her, let’s watch the James Bond movie and she’d ask which one is it? Goldeneye? Yay, I like Pierce Brosnan she’d reply. Pa, Predators is on TV! Pa, it’s Teenage Predators vs. Aliens! Pa, those people stood against the odds and overcame/defeated their enemies/hurdles (us explaining a movie where he’d tear up and get emotional over good triumphing over evil or how the human spirit overcame).
I said it at her funeral and am sharing it here now, it has been our privilege and honour to have had parents such as our mum and dad. Parents speak of how proud they are of their children’s accomplishments i.e. my kid did this, got into this, topped this, ranked that, is doing that, is pursuing this etc. etc. But rarely do children get the opportunity, like we did, to declare on such a public platform, the pride we felt in having had parents like mum and dad. It truly has been such a great honour and we feel so blessed. I can say this but I do feel bad for my younger two siblings because they didn’t get as many years as my sister and I did. But I can safely say that we all agree that they were the best parents kids could have ever asked for. And mum was one of the finest woman we’ve had the pleasure of knowing.
We will probably never stop missing them and we’re also hoping that we can live up to their hopes and dreams for us and that whatever we do manage to do, that they would be proud of us. I hope we’ll see them again one day when it’s time. Dear PaMa, thank you and please don’t worry, you gave us all the material and the foundation that we’d need to build on. So relax (they hated that word) and don’t worry (they hated that word too) but your kids are well by God’s grace and we will be fine. Mangpha.
mymusingsaday 