Plain medium-length braid, straight black hair parted in the middle, partition always filled with red sindoor (Vermillion; red color powder used by married women in India) was the all time hair style of my mom. On a few occasions, she would make hair bun out of her braid, but from the front, her hair remained the same style forever. Round face, broad forehead, small stubby nose, small mouth, thin lips (no lipstick at home and lightly applied magenta lipstick for outings; ranged from visiting someone, going to market or attend a wedding), round chin with a dimple in the middle, chubby cheeks, double chin, and the world's most beautiful and biggest sized eyes. Her eyes were the most beautiful part of her face. She always wore red slightly big size bindi* in the middle of her eyebrows on her forehead. She used to wear fancy designer bindis while attending weddings or other parties, but after crossing age 40 she stopped doing that and wore a simple red bindi. This is the look of my mom that was never changing. The only thing changed in day to day life was the colors of saree she wore. Her extensive makeup for big parties was also limited to face cream, bindi, and magenta lipstick (same brand, same type, the lipstick appeared green but after application it changed into magenta color). Her only beauty parlor visits may have been once in two years for an occasional facial. With limited makeup, no parlor visits, my mom was still the most beautiful woman in the entire family. We sisters were often told, that none of us (all six of us) look even close to what she looked in her young age. Still with many pounds up in weight due to medicines and no activity because of asthma, she aged gracefully and was pretty in every sense.
Mummy was an exceptionally talented homemaker, she was a skilled seamstress, knitter, embroiderer, dancer and singer (folk singing and dancing in family gatherings), and a marvelous cook. I never got an opportunity to eat anything cooked by her, as she was mostly ill when I was growing up. She was famous in her family for playing dholak (two-headed hand drum). In short she was versatile and had many talents. Some of us sisters have some of her qualities and some have none, but none of us has all the qualities my mom had. Among everything, mummy loved to knit sweaters for us, for factory workers, for pretty much everyone she knew. We grew up wearing her knitted sweaters, but with changing fashions and market sweater charms, we stopped wearing them and mummy stopped making them for us. She would take old sweaters (a year or two years old) and reuse the wool to make sweaters for the domestic help working for us. That way sweaters were not kept unused for years, the wool was used and poor lads get to wear hand knitted warm sweaters for winters. Out of all, Munshi Chacha got the most sweaters from my mom. I am pretty sure he must have at least one left with him even now. She got the charm of making sweaters again when my nieces and nephews were born, but eventually stopped it altogether because of failing health and discomfort from the wool lint. When I came to the USA I missed my mom and her sweaters so much that I asked her to knit one for me in my last visit to India before she passed away. It took her only two days to knit me a sweater and I don't use it anymore because I am scared of damaging it and losing a last thread connected with my mom.
There are a few other things of hers I have saved; her old mobile phone (the keypad still has her sindoor in it), her wallet, her one pair of slippers, and my countless memories of her. One of my sisters has also saved a little pickle made by her. Things like these and thousands of memories are what keeps her alive among us. If I continue to write about her, it will take me 100s of blogs to cover everything; that's why I am writing the two most important memories here in this blog. Her love was endless is doubtless, but these memories are the reason of what I am today and how I shaped myself.
I did my schooling from Aligarh Muslim University senior secondary school. The school was part of a big educational wing, which had girls' high school (US 10th grade), secondary school (US high school), and women's college. The whole complex had two entrances on opposite sides of this huge area. On one side was the famous Amir Nisha (that's a topic of entirely new blog ;)) also called as lal diggi wala gate and the other gate opened on Marris Road. On the opposite side of Marris Road gate was the infamous Quality Snack shop, which was a little food junction. The shop was small; therefore, the owner had set a few tables outside of the shop and customers would stand there and eat. The reason it was infamous especially in my family and friend circle is that it was widely known or rumored that boys come to that shop to check out girls coming out of school gates and if a boy and a girl are standing there and eating they must be dating each other. Dating without permission or betrothal in India is a complete no no, especially in small traditional cities like my hometown. So going to that shop by myself was a big no no and with a friend who is a boy is like bringing shame to my entire family. Once I was very hungry and had very little time to spare between two classes and didn't pack any food with me. So I decided to go to this Quality shop and get some food for me and instead of bringing that food back to college, I ended up eating it by myself at one of the outside tables there at the shop only. I promise I was standing alone. And, obviously, that was the day my brother happened to cross from there and saw me at that infamous food shop. He came home and complained straight to my mom, my sister also got agitated and started fueling the fire. Mummy looked at me and I simply said, "Mom if you trust me, you don't have to ask me anything but if you don't then whatever I say will make no difference, but please trust me I didn't do anything wrong". Mom heard what I said and didn't question or say anything to me (that left my brother and sister infuriated; hahah on their face). That's how much she trusted me, and that's the reason I stopped myself at least 8 out of 10 times from doing something which she would not have approved, and that's what I feel has made me a better person.
The second memory is: As I have mentioned so many times mummy was ill most of the time, and thus one my sisters has always helped mummy in taking care of all household responsibilities. After my older sisters were married, the next in line would take the responsibility. When I got admission in the Ph.D. program in the USA and all the required visa documents and everything was set, I realized that if I will leave now, who will help mummy in my absence? Only one of my older sisters was unmarried at that time and my parents were planning to marry her off soon, and at the same time, I was coming to the USA. I was very worried and decided not to come and discussed the issue with my mom. She outrightly told me, "Don't worry about me, I am very happy that you have got this opportunity and I know I can take care of myself. For my sake chose your career over your family right now". And I did as she told me. I guess leaving her was the most difficult thing when I came here and that's the reason I was not very excited when I came to the USA for the first time. Thus, this incident changed my whole life and career path.
When I had to help my mom, she was alone and I cried so many nights thinking about that. But my parents were blessed with a son like my brother who took care of them more than any one of us sisters could have done. And sometimes I felt mummy preferred or prioritized my brother even over my dad hahaha. It was a shock when the news of her death came. Although she passed away on the 19th May 2009, my memory of seeing her face for the last time is from 9th January of 2009. I couldn't reach in time to see her before she was cremated. It has been more than 6 years that she has been gone, but I am still in denial and whenever I dream of Aligarh, she is always a part of those dreams. I use to send her flowers for mother's day every year after I came to the USA. The year 2009 is the only year I didn't (I hate that year). There was some miscommunication with the vendor and minor payment issues, and by the time everything was solved mother's day was long over and almost a week after that I also lost the person who loved those flowers. She totally loved flowers; therefore, every mother's day even now I bring flowers and keep them in front of her picture to wish her Happy mother's day. She is still my mom and I know she still loves me and I love her. Sometimes I feel life is not fair, because she left us before time. On the other hand, I feel it was good for her as she was suffering from each breath she took.
I love you maan and miss you like crazy especially when I want to share notes with you about raising my son, when I want you to tell me how I was as a kid, and when I want to share with someone that I am sad or happy without judging me. In short I miss you every second of my life. And, more I think about you more I feel proud of you, I am proud of my upbringing, I am proud of the values you gave me, I am proud of my independence and confidence which was a path carved by you, and I am proud of you for all the standards and rules you have set in my mind (I still don't touch broom with my foot hahaahha).
And at the last! My mom:
*Bindi is the traditional makeup dot worn by Indian girls and women, which was traditionally applied using vermillion but now is available as paste and remove stickers in many colors and shapes. Unlike vermillion filling in parted hair, bindi can be used by both married and unmarried women except widow. According to old beliefs, widows are not allowed to wear any color other than white in hindu religion; the rule my grandmother (papa's mom) strictly followed. This rule is now pretty relaxed except in very traditional families and widows can wear colors, but still avoid bright colors.
Mummy was an exceptionally talented homemaker, she was a skilled seamstress, knitter, embroiderer, dancer and singer (folk singing and dancing in family gatherings), and a marvelous cook. I never got an opportunity to eat anything cooked by her, as she was mostly ill when I was growing up. She was famous in her family for playing dholak (two-headed hand drum). In short she was versatile and had many talents. Some of us sisters have some of her qualities and some have none, but none of us has all the qualities my mom had. Among everything, mummy loved to knit sweaters for us, for factory workers, for pretty much everyone she knew. We grew up wearing her knitted sweaters, but with changing fashions and market sweater charms, we stopped wearing them and mummy stopped making them for us. She would take old sweaters (a year or two years old) and reuse the wool to make sweaters for the domestic help working for us. That way sweaters were not kept unused for years, the wool was used and poor lads get to wear hand knitted warm sweaters for winters. Out of all, Munshi Chacha got the most sweaters from my mom. I am pretty sure he must have at least one left with him even now. She got the charm of making sweaters again when my nieces and nephews were born, but eventually stopped it altogether because of failing health and discomfort from the wool lint. When I came to the USA I missed my mom and her sweaters so much that I asked her to knit one for me in my last visit to India before she passed away. It took her only two days to knit me a sweater and I don't use it anymore because I am scared of damaging it and losing a last thread connected with my mom.
There are a few other things of hers I have saved; her old mobile phone (the keypad still has her sindoor in it), her wallet, her one pair of slippers, and my countless memories of her. One of my sisters has also saved a little pickle made by her. Things like these and thousands of memories are what keeps her alive among us. If I continue to write about her, it will take me 100s of blogs to cover everything; that's why I am writing the two most important memories here in this blog. Her love was endless is doubtless, but these memories are the reason of what I am today and how I shaped myself.
I did my schooling from Aligarh Muslim University senior secondary school. The school was part of a big educational wing, which had girls' high school (US 10th grade), secondary school (US high school), and women's college. The whole complex had two entrances on opposite sides of this huge area. On one side was the famous Amir Nisha (that's a topic of entirely new blog ;)) also called as lal diggi wala gate and the other gate opened on Marris Road. On the opposite side of Marris Road gate was the infamous Quality Snack shop, which was a little food junction. The shop was small; therefore, the owner had set a few tables outside of the shop and customers would stand there and eat. The reason it was infamous especially in my family and friend circle is that it was widely known or rumored that boys come to that shop to check out girls coming out of school gates and if a boy and a girl are standing there and eating they must be dating each other. Dating without permission or betrothal in India is a complete no no, especially in small traditional cities like my hometown. So going to that shop by myself was a big no no and with a friend who is a boy is like bringing shame to my entire family. Once I was very hungry and had very little time to spare between two classes and didn't pack any food with me. So I decided to go to this Quality shop and get some food for me and instead of bringing that food back to college, I ended up eating it by myself at one of the outside tables there at the shop only. I promise I was standing alone. And, obviously, that was the day my brother happened to cross from there and saw me at that infamous food shop. He came home and complained straight to my mom, my sister also got agitated and started fueling the fire. Mummy looked at me and I simply said, "Mom if you trust me, you don't have to ask me anything but if you don't then whatever I say will make no difference, but please trust me I didn't do anything wrong". Mom heard what I said and didn't question or say anything to me (that left my brother and sister infuriated; hahah on their face). That's how much she trusted me, and that's the reason I stopped myself at least 8 out of 10 times from doing something which she would not have approved, and that's what I feel has made me a better person.
The second memory is: As I have mentioned so many times mummy was ill most of the time, and thus one my sisters has always helped mummy in taking care of all household responsibilities. After my older sisters were married, the next in line would take the responsibility. When I got admission in the Ph.D. program in the USA and all the required visa documents and everything was set, I realized that if I will leave now, who will help mummy in my absence? Only one of my older sisters was unmarried at that time and my parents were planning to marry her off soon, and at the same time, I was coming to the USA. I was very worried and decided not to come and discussed the issue with my mom. She outrightly told me, "Don't worry about me, I am very happy that you have got this opportunity and I know I can take care of myself. For my sake chose your career over your family right now". And I did as she told me. I guess leaving her was the most difficult thing when I came here and that's the reason I was not very excited when I came to the USA for the first time. Thus, this incident changed my whole life and career path.
When I had to help my mom, she was alone and I cried so many nights thinking about that. But my parents were blessed with a son like my brother who took care of them more than any one of us sisters could have done. And sometimes I felt mummy preferred or prioritized my brother even over my dad hahaha. It was a shock when the news of her death came. Although she passed away on the 19th May 2009, my memory of seeing her face for the last time is from 9th January of 2009. I couldn't reach in time to see her before she was cremated. It has been more than 6 years that she has been gone, but I am still in denial and whenever I dream of Aligarh, she is always a part of those dreams. I use to send her flowers for mother's day every year after I came to the USA. The year 2009 is the only year I didn't (I hate that year). There was some miscommunication with the vendor and minor payment issues, and by the time everything was solved mother's day was long over and almost a week after that I also lost the person who loved those flowers. She totally loved flowers; therefore, every mother's day even now I bring flowers and keep them in front of her picture to wish her Happy mother's day. She is still my mom and I know she still loves me and I love her. Sometimes I feel life is not fair, because she left us before time. On the other hand, I feel it was good for her as she was suffering from each breath she took.
I love you maan and miss you like crazy especially when I want to share notes with you about raising my son, when I want you to tell me how I was as a kid, and when I want to share with someone that I am sad or happy without judging me. In short I miss you every second of my life. And, more I think about you more I feel proud of you, I am proud of my upbringing, I am proud of the values you gave me, I am proud of my independence and confidence which was a path carved by you, and I am proud of you for all the standards and rules you have set in my mind (I still don't touch broom with my foot hahaahha).
And at the last! My mom:
*Bindi is the traditional makeup dot worn by Indian girls and women, which was traditionally applied using vermillion but now is available as paste and remove stickers in many colors and shapes. Unlike vermillion filling in parted hair, bindi can be used by both married and unmarried women except widow. According to old beliefs, widows are not allowed to wear any color other than white in hindu religion; the rule my grandmother (papa's mom) strictly followed. This rule is now pretty relaxed except in very traditional families and widows can wear colors, but still avoid bright colors.
Thumbs up to Taiji. She is our rock star :-) Very beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteFinally a thumbsup :) Thank you for not crying (hopefully).
DeleteLoved u always ,aunty.....
ReplyDeleteShe loved you too sammy :)
Delete