SORRY I grew up too fast, Ma

In every picture or video that I see which takes me back to my childhood, I notice myself clinging on to my mother’s arm. If a picture was being taken without my consent (yes my ‘consent’ was needed even at an early age!), I’d hide behind her back, or bury myself under the folds of her sari. But I’d always be there - right next to her.

Now that I flip through the pictures on my phone, I cannot seem to find any picture with my mother! The pictures on my phone card utilize hundreds of megabytes and NOT ONE of them is with my mother. How and when did things change so much? :/

To this very day, Ma has been my support system. I know many mothers who would hesitate to defend their children in front of other family members, just to ensure good family ties. But my mother isn’t one of them. I know many mothers who would restrict their daughters (I’m saying this because I come from an Asian background where girls and boys mingling together can be a big deal) when it comes to keeping friends from the opposite sex. But Ma? She can never be one of them. On the contrary, just last week she helped me bake cupcakes for all my friends, even when she noticed that the name on the cake belonged to a boy. She has never shown any signs of doubt when I talk to her about the world I see in my dreams. She believes in them even more than I do. She has never said that my ideas are unrealistic, because she believes in the power of my thoughts. She always reminds me that I’m capable of so much more than I can ever imagine being.

She was the one who would wake up in the middle of the night and get me apple juice when I was admitted to the hospital; just because she thought there might be a possibility of me craving for juice when my eyes open! Even when I come home late from a concert, or an outing, she’ll stay up till 2am if she has to, just to make sure I don’t go to bed on an empty stomach. She is the reason I write today because if it wasn’t for her, I’d be oblivious to my writing skills. She was the one who bought me my first journal so I could record my “pretty thoughts” and cherish that point of time.

Ma and I are two completely different people with barely much in common. She likes white because it’s a subtle and pure color. And I love red because it’s bold and powerful. She’s sensitive to emotions and cries when her heart wants to. I avoid emotions and have too much ego to let go of tears. Yet despite our differences and conflict in opinions, she’s my sole back-up and I’m the very core of her mental strength.

I’m sorry Ma, for being too engrossed in my life that I didn’t pay attention to the new recipe you learnt. I’m sorry Ma, for coming home late and stealing away your sound sleep. I’m sorry Ma, for all that you have to endure because of my careless nature. I’m sorry Ma, that you don’t get to see me around as much because I always have “other things” to do. I’m sorry Ma, that my shoulder is not strong enough to help you lift your burdens. I’m sorry Ma, for growing up way too fast.

I'll Be Your Walking Stick

Today a man of approximately 85 years of life experiences, father of 4 well-established children and 7 grandchildren, approached me regarding my writing. He has been reading a few of my works over the last few years and requested me to write something for him. I found it quite overwhelming because this man has always been such an inspiration to me; with his commendable tolerance for life’s painstaking circumstances, his remarkable presence, and most of all - the tender love and care that he has given to all those around him. I dedicate this article to my grandfather. And to all those grandparents who have brought so much affection to this world, but go away without much appreciation.

As I finished reading aloud the last few words of my 600-word article, I looked up to stare into the eyes of my listener, expecting it to be filled with the usual pride that I witness there. But instead I notice the pair of eyes gazing down, staring at the floor mat trying to avoid my gaze. As he looked up at me eventually, for the first time ever I saw tears in the eyes of my grandfather. After a moment of silence, he just held my hand and asked me to continue writing for as long as I live, and to make him read my works for as long as HE lives. That night I cried myself to sleep because in that one gaze, my grandfather communicated to me all the things that he had kept within himself for many years.

Growing up we tend to take many things for granted. The list soon becomes endless, and we end up with lost friends, distant relationships, and a painful list of misunderstandings. A mother suffers 9 months of pain, and a life time of sacrifice when she brings to this world another life. A father has a countless number of compromises to tend to as he ensures that that little being is fed well, educated at the best institutes, and grows up to be someone respectable. Sometimes what we fail to realize is that they don’t ask for anything in return, perhaps not even gratitude. Sometimes all they need is a little support when they grow old and need looking after.

Hundreds and thousands of grandparents end up in old-age homes. Some of them don’t really have any family of their own to take care of them; while some don’t want to become a burden on anybody, and wish to live their last few days independently. However, the majority end up there as a result of neglected duties. The parental advice that we crave for as youngsters, eventually becomes ‘interference’ in adulthood. Trust me when I say that we cannot even possibly imagine what our grandparents go through when their own children wish to carry on with their lives like these “old folks” aren’t an integral part of it. And in the fast paced world we live in today, the simplicity in the sheer joy of another person’s company is a feeling that is soon going to become extinct!

So if your grandmother is being a little cranky today, it is only because she is lonely. If you think your grandfather is too demanding, maybe it is because he just wants a little attention. It doesn’t take too much trouble to simply be a companion and spare time to listen. :)

Some Decisions Can Wait

I know for a fact that I’m a highly ambitious person. Like many others I have dreams that I want to change to reality, and successes that I want to achieve. But like few of them, I don’t really know what I precisely want to do in life.

Within a year or so, I will probably be a university graduate. It’s a big deal of course, because that is when people really start to take you seriously and maybe the point when YOU start to take yourself seriously. But I haven’t done that yet. I’ve always had a knack for creativity - from writing, to photography, to painting - I can proudly say that at some point or the other, I’ve tried it all! (Though I do admit that the people I draw have not evolved from being stick figures).

I wanted to be a photographer someday, and be the proud owner of a studio, and be able to capture the essence of beautiful people and present it to the world through my lens. I wanted to tour around the world, with appointments and photo shoots in Paris or London! But then I lost interest eventually and gave away all the digital photography books and magazines I owned. Then I wanted to be a calligraphy artist. I began writing in various forms of Old English Gothic handwriting, but alas! The ink pot of my calligraphy set dried and I lost interest again. And hence, I’m now stuck with a handwriting that is neither slanting, nor straight, nor cursive.

I can vividly recall wanting to be a psychologist at some point in my life. I was always told that I give fairly good advice, and I can deal well with people since I’m a “peoples’ person”. And no I haven’t yet lost interest in that. It’s just that the place I study in, does not really have many options when it comes to studying Psychology. But there was one subject that I studied back in school - Business Studies - that had a certain segment called ‘Marketing’, that seemed to have grasped my attention. I am not trying to imply that I did fairly well in the subject, because it was quite the contrary. Although, eventually I did realize that my grades ceased to matter. It was the entire idea of the subject that enthralled me. And after much analysis I realized that so far all my ‘phases’ had one thing in common - they all dealt with either creativity or communicating with people. And that is when I instantly pictured myself sitting on a revolving chair in a lavish office, and communicating with people about the ideas and the world that is inside my head.

But maybe it’s still okay to be unsure of what we want to be in life. Maybe this still isn’t my time to take hardcore decisions. I can still make mistakes, correct them, and try a different mistake each day till I get it right. And maybe this way when someday some random person asks me about my dream job, I can respond with pride that “I am actually living my dream right now”.