Really, who else is there on this planet who understands us better than we understand ourself? Who else is there to listen to our cries before we cry or pray for our happiness while we go ahoy in life absolutely unfettered,without even looking back for a moment? Yup,our mothers. The person crafted by God since he could not be everywhere Himself,right? Right.
So why should my mother be any different? My mom, my Maa, the one person who can read my soul like an open book even though I am still stuck at the first chapter.
I was 7 years old. I remember her arguing with my dad. My dad is an awesome person, but like many other awesome persons on this planet, he also loves to abide by the rules of the society in which he lives. Not my mom. She breaks them as per her convenience. That is what she was doing that fateful day.
My dad was saying something along the lines of- 'Arre,what will others say? You know how people look down upon such things here...'
And my mom retorted,' I do not care. Others do not take care of her, she is my daughter! She is going there and that is that...'
I had no idea what they were arguing about. Mainly because I had no interest in focusing on anything other than the episode of Shaktimaan that I was watching right then and also because mom had taught me to not eavesdrop into other people's arguments and this was when I actually listened to her (wink wink).
But I did not have to wait for long. Barely 15 minutes had passed before my dad stormed out of the room, crossed the living room in 2 long strides, turned off the TV, turned towards me and nearly growled, 'Get ready,NOW'.
I did. 15 minutes later,we were sitting in a car, zooming towards my dad's office area which was puzzling for me, since I knew his office remained closed on the day Shaktimaan was telecasted. However,I had no idea of intruding upon the cold war brewing between my dad and mom by asking about where we were going.
15 more minutes later and we were standing on the grounds of a nearly dilapidated,yet imposing, building near my dad's office. It was a dance school. Oh,so this is what they were talking about! You see, we lived in a society that looked down upon the performing arts. Dancing, singing, acting were referred to in derogatory terms by my dad's family, my mom's family as well as the neighbors in our apartment complex, and the general populace of our social class. But ofcourse,I was a 7 year old child. Trying talking about socio-politico-religious compulsions of this mad world to a 7 year old child! All I knew was, I LOVED to dance. From a very young age, I had loved songs and watching Bollywood movies was an obsession with me. In our family, my dad's family would only ever listen to classical music and ghazals of Pankaj Udhas. But I think,from the time I was 3 or 4 years old, my mom had started buying Hindi film songs of Mithun Chakravarthy and Jackie Shroff starrers since she loved to see my little toes wiggle to the beats of those disco songs. So,obviously, she thought it was best for me to start getting classically trained from a young age. Ergo,here we were,getting my name enrolled for the Bharatnatyam classes at the said dilapidated dance school.
This is the first instance I remember where I saw the fighter in my mom. My memories are a bit hazy but I remember everything important.
I remember the way she held on to her ground even under growing opposition. First it was my dad,then came my dadaji, my dadiji, the whole extended family from my dad's side who refused to even consider the idea of sending me to a 'naach-gaana' place. Even my mom's side of family was not overtly thrilled even though they did not make much fuss but I remember my mom meeting everyone with a curt 'No Discussion' on the topic.
I remember my mom telling me the story of her childhood where she used to watch Hema Malini and Vyjantimala's movies at her friends' places because she wasn't allowed to do so at her own house,and how she would dream of dancing but ofcourse she was never allowed to nurture this dream and to make sure that she did not take any 'drastic step' (of maybe getting self-enrolled into a dance school?) she was married off while still in high school. Obviously, what better way to make sure that a woman 'does not cross her limits' than to marry her off in India?!
I remember how this 'dance school incident' was the first one where I saw my mom being a true warrior,not one who goes around totting a gun but one who sticks to a very finely refined compass of moral right and wrong and never gives up principles and values.
I remember how about 2 years later,my mom also applied for a job at the same dance school, in an administrative position, so she could stay close to me as well as to her first love-classical music and dance. I remember how her eyes sparkled when she saw all us little children in our dance uniforms and ghunghroos.
I remember how our neighbors grudgingly gave my mother the respect she deserved when I started performing at our colony's Durga Puja and Kali Puja ceremonies. That was when they realized that my mom wanted me to worship arts the way Lord Shiva, The Nataraj does, not make me a 'naachne gaane waali'!
I remember how some years later, our neighbors started asking my mother for advice on various matters,not restricted just to the dance class but general queries on how to navigate administrative bureaucracy in various places too since by then she had gotten promotion in her choice of vocation all based on her hard work and dedication.
I remember the way my mom used to be a perfect housewife and a perfect working woman in those days. Waking up at 7, taking me to school, doing all housework, going to job, coming back at lunch time to pick me up, take me to dance school, bringing me back, helping me do my homework, making dinner, helping me prepare for extra curricular and co-curricular activities. I wonder how I never thought of her as Wonder Woman then! She truly was! I never missed school or dance school, never missed submitting a homework on time and never got anything less than 90% on any of my exams.
I remember that from this instance on, she was always my rock, my pillar of support, no matter what I needed to or wanted to do, no matter if the whole world stood against me, she was always there and she still is.
I remember a 100 different incidents but I also remember this is where it all started. The realization that God really could not be everywhere and so he made mom. Specifically,my mother. Even today,her enthusiasm for life and her quest to change whatever stifles her (or by extension,any fellow human being) remains unbridled. And the fact that she is such a passionate,never ending warrior makes her eternal and ageless. Of course, there are some signs of ageing, but thanks to Godrej, at least her hair never shows any signs of ageing. So there it is, my mother, my warrior, my expert!
