We all have so many dreams in life but there is only so much a person can do. We don’t have time, we don’t have patience, we don’t like what we are doing; the reasons are endless. There is always a rat race to achieve perfection in life but perfection is not something that can be achieved easily. It requires so much effort. But there is one person, who despite everything, manages to fit all the roles in life perfectly – Mother.
I was three when they first sent me to school. I was scared. I had cried continuously for the whole day and when I came back home, she was there to console me. The pattern continued for days. I had even once escaped from school and rushed home (The school was near to home) Teachers were worried sick and dad was furious when he came to know about this. I hid behind her, who shielded me from dad’s anger and later told me not to do so again.
I was five. I had a craze of writing. I would write the alphabets and tables again and again and I could never get tired of it. I used to get up early in the morning and sit at the foot board to write. Dad used to scold me, saying it would hurt my eyes, but my mom told me I could go and sit in the garden and do what I like. She understood my craze.
I was seven. I had to attend a singing competition in a place which was far from home. Dad was working in another town. Mom had never went out much, an indoor person that she was. But she took me to the venue as she couldn’t see me unhappy. She was beaming with pride when I bagged the prize and she couldn’t stop talking about it till weeks!
I was nine. I had my first fight with my best friend. I didn’t take it well. I felt like it was the end of the world. Mom was there for me, telling me she would be my best friend, who would never make me cry. And she has stood true to the promise till now. I couldn’t understand English. My grades dropped and so did my mood. She didn’t know English either. She had read in Kannada medium. But she learnt it for me. Holding a Kannada text book in one hand and English in other, she learnt the lessons first and then taught them to me.
I was eleven. I had slipped in the park while playing and broken my leg. My left leg was put in a cast for 21 days and I had annual exam at that time. She had stayed up day and night to nurse me, teach me, take me to school and help me around. I couldn’t even walk on my own and she was the sole support I had.
I was thirteen. I was a hyper active kid. I had to take part in each and everything and my grandparents were fed up of it. They had ordered me not to do so and focus just on studies. I was heart broken. It was her, who fought on my behalf, to keep my dreams alive and said I can do whatever I want.
I was fifteen. I was learning about fake friendships and broken promises for the first time. It was a huge blow to see the illusion of the ‘Happy Place’ I had created shatter. It was frightening to see people back stab each other for their own selfish reasons. But she was there beside me, gently making me believe that there is good too in this world. She taught me not to give up hope and always stay true to myself.
I was seventeen. I was struggling to get out of the complex I had developed. It wasn’t easy. I used to detest crowds and I used to break down often. But yet again, she was there, helping me throughout. I would have given up on life, if it wasn’t for her support.
I was nineteen. I had to decide on a career path. I didn’t know what to do. There were so many things to consider and dad was saying ‘No’ to all my choices. My fate seemed to be taking me towards an unknown destination. I was scared. ‘Could I cope up?’ I wondered. She told me I could. She had total faith in me and was confident that I could do anything that I set my mind on. I trusted in her and chose my path.
I am twenty one now. At the verge of graduating. Sometimes things get so tiring, that I feel like giving up. It is again her, who keeps me sane, reminding me that I shouldn’t give up. I recently found my calling in writing. I love to write and she loves to read what I write. She is my muse and it is for her that I write.
Sometimes she stays up with me, so that I can read. She learns new things, so that she can help me. From listening to my rants to lending a shoulder when I need to cry, she does it all without complaining. It is her with whom I share my secrets and it is her whom I seek when I need any advice. She is there for me whenever I need her. She always knows when I am happy or when I am sad just by seeing my face or hearing my voice. She has seen me at my best and my worst. I have lost my temper and I have threw numerous tantrums but she is an ocean of love and compassion. Her love always helps me get back to the right path. A teacher, a best friend, a doctor, a cook, an adviser, a muse, a soundboard and above all, a mother! I don’t how she manages to play all the roles perfectly. It is her that I turn to whenever I have a problem or whenever I can’t take a decision. She is the one who has answers to all my questions even before I ask them. She is my #FirstExpert.
Until the next post,
Keep Smiling 🙂