I had been an emotional person always...
I have choked and had tears brimming in my eyes just by looking at powerful pictures,
I’ve whimpered and wept closing many books,
I’ve sobbed unashamedly in theatres…
Always Moved by powerful captivating portrayals...But I never expected emotions to hit me like a freight train, On a lazy Sunday afternoon, in the mall of all places...
I had been wandering aimlessly in the Mall for a quarter hour, running my hand through various fabrics and toying with them when I turned around the corner and stopped dead in my tracks.
I froze still taking a sharp breath as I laid my eyes on the person standing ahead of me. My heart just gave a big squeeze, my lips muttered ‘Maa’ "just as my brain went into overdrive on suddenly seeing my mother standing ahead of me, with her back turned towards me. My mind questioned it instantly, how could it be?! There is no way. she was thousands of miles away, back in INDIA!!!!, separated by many time zones, probably sleeping right this moment...
I realized my foolishness and quickly scurried past them while noticing her talking to a young teenage girl. Something stopped me from going far away from them so I just turned into the start of the next aisle and stood there and turned to look at them.
I could understand why my brain hastily mistook her for my mother, she was around the same height, same complexion and her build was also much similar to my mom. Even the long curly hair pleated down her back, thinning as it comes down and ending as a small twirl just below her hip. She had neatly draped a cotton saree, my moms favorite kind. She looked just like my mother from the back at a first glance. She was nodding her head and replying to the young girl chatting animatedly with her, presumably her daughter judging by the similarity in their faces and the easy closeness in their ongoing conversation.
As I eyed with envy the mother-daughter duo conversing deeply about different shades of purple, I remembered the countless hours I & my mother spent in shops, malls and bazaars. The hours were spent carelessly with family gossips, fashion and discussing plans for my future. Her escape, from the clutches of monotonous household duties and mine, from the office works. The hours turned fervent as my wedding was fixed and dates came close ,there was much to be done in terms of shopping in the short months which didn't leave much time to think about the fact that after wedding I would be moving to * THE USA* on the other side of the world and there would be no more such spontaneous Sunday morning shopping sprees.
I was watching the duo with amusement, toying some clothes in my hand so as not to look like indeed, I was watching them, As the mother kept objecting the clothes the daughter showed her, one after another from her huge pile in the cart. The daughter grew more & more frustrated visibly.
I stifled a quiet laugh When the daughter picked up a very light brown colored top with renewed enthusiasm kept it under her chin and asked “how do u think this will suit me, mom?” her mother quickly dampened her spirit calling out,”This is such a dull color! “ Just like my mom would’ve faulted it, Couldn't you have picked a duller color?! She would have retorted, My ever sarcastic mother. It’s the color of dirt she would’ve declared when I would try to argue it’s a subtle chocolate color.
She had an arranged marriage with my dad who was a part of a big joint family when she was 18 and came to the city from her tiny village as a naive young girl. And Having had me immediately when she was 19 she had no opportunities to step outside and explore, no real exposure to the outside world. My dad and our family were her World, And my dad's devoted love towards her held her safely cocooned.
Through her conservative lectures and sarcastic resorts and my know-it-all attitudes, we bickered like sisters throughout the years, in some ways she was the sister I never had. She had my best interests at heart and wanted me to look my best, deserve my best, be my best.The problem was that her ideas of best and my ideas of best vastly differed, at least by a span of a generation.
I was so sure from my rebellious teenage days that we will never be on the same page, we will never be able to hold a decent conversation, reach an understanding, “you will never get me, Maa ”, I would lament to her or sometimes scream in a flare of temper. I grew to accept it over years that I would never have the buddy relationship with my mother ...
We might as well have been from different planets, We had no common interests, Clashing tastes, different ideas of what actually is modest length, the debate between revolving trends and ugliness, arguments about what was wrong, what was normal and what was not a big deal!!!!!
