Goodbye Amma Dearest

Those who have travelled the suburban train in Chennai during the late 60s, between Beach and Tambaram could never have missed the mesmerizing fragrance of Ponds powder hitting their nostrils for a few seconds. It was not magic, the Ponds factory was located very close to the railway lines, its intense fragrance embracing the entire lot of people in close proximity to it.

But for me, this powerful scented Ponds powder always reminded me of my mother, who in the wee hours of morning, would liberally drench herself in this powder, before starting for her workplace, the heady fragrance that would wake me up from my sweet sleep much to my annoyance. The ruffling sounds of her stiff starched cotton saree, her heated arguments with her MIL, her closing the front iron gates with a big bang reflecting her anger, were all tell tale signals of her, leaving for the office, right at 6am. She would continue her onward journey by bus for an hour, just enough to be at her desk by 7.30am. Her adherence for punctuality was as impressive as her obsession for cleanliness.

She worked overtime on Saturdays and never would take leave even for a fever as high as 104°. Her intense passion for her work, her coworkers, her salary, her bonus and uniform sarees and additional perquisites provided by the company every year, kept her depression at bay. Subsidized meals, snacks, tiffin, took good care of her health and she was hale and healthy till sixty when she retired.

My father’s death at an early age was a great blow to the entire family emotionally, financially and physically, but the excellent support system provided by my grandparents made sure, that never for a moment, we missed our father. A job opportunity, got through my father's friend, on the 15th day after my father's death, left my mother no time to mourn the loss of her DH, but indeed provided a solid platform to build up a strong financial edifice, stabilizing her tottering future.

Only after my marriage, I realised the enormity of being a widow at a young age and realised the bitter moments of emotional upheaval my mother would have gone through her life. Having seen her decked up in loads of jasmine flowers, face smeared with turmeric and a big bindi, she was forced to relinquish all three upon her widowhood, I later on psychologically developed an intense hatred for all the three, which were symbolic ornaments of being a married woman.

Being financially independent, she minded her own finances diligently, handling her bank accounts, investing money in prospective company deposits,- till the day of her fatal fall while getting down the staircase,. It was ironic that a lady who prided herself in being financially independent, had to be physically dependent on others for caregiving in her later years.

When she turned seventy, her health took a sudden turn for the worse, for the intense hip pain could never be cured by even the best neurologists, orthopedicians, physiotherapists. Along with her I travelled a painful journey of looking after her, running through the corridors of scores of hospital, knocking doors of the best consultants for their expert opinion, accompanying her while she went through many MRI scans, brain scans, biopsy suspecting cancer- but with all the medical advancements, her illness remained an eternal mystery. No caretaker was ready to deal with her, ready to put up with her non-stop blabbering, sudden outbursts of temper, mood swings, which could be reduced only by the use of strong sedatives, one which even the doctors feared the dosage, due to her advancing age.

The day she failed to recognize me, my DH, my brother, we realised to what extent dementia had incapacitated her. Her frequent hospitalization, the sounds of a screaming ambulance siren, pulling out stretchers, admitting her in the ICU, her going and coming back safely to the hospital - was a routine affair. But we never knew that one particular day was going to be the last time to bid her the final goodbye, for we failed to take a long loving look at her, give her an affectionate kiss, a loving smile to ensure she was safe with us, no, absolutely nothing. We were totally unaware of the cruel hands of destiny, which was waiting to snatch her away from us. When there was a phone call from the hospital that she was slightly critical, we took it as a routine affair and proceeded to the hospital casually. But on the way to the hospital while we were in the bus, struggling hard to balance ourselves amid the throngs of people, we got the news of her death, which was a terrible blow to us. When my trembling hands went in search for a solid support when I got the news on the bus, a young man got up and gave me his seat just looking at my tear soaked face.

From hospital to crematorium it was a quick journey, the rituals performed at the crematorium itself, me and my DH, bidding her final adieu, consigning her mortal remains to the hungry flames. With the ashes immersed in the raging sea waters, my mind was as restless as the waves that pounded the shores angrily.

Dear mom, Many times I have asked you to shut your mouth up, when you talked incoherently, shouted at you mercilessly unable to control my pent up frustration, but all that you gave back me was a big smile of innocence. I couldn’t control my tears when I found how ruthlessly the caregivers handled you, those without whom I couldn’t carry on my routine activities. But now that you are gone, the bitter painful void has enveloped me, with complex questions nagging my mind, guilt feelings taking me over. I still cry even while writing this, recalling those painful moments you had to cross over, me wringing my hands in utter despair.. Amma dear, I long for your purposeless ramblings to fill in the painful emptiness, humongous void you have left me. Painful memories have left deep crevices in my mind, but the gentle fragrance of Ponds powder wafting through the breeze from somewhere, soothes my frayed nerves and I can hear you saying, ” I am with you always”. Good bye dearest mom, till we meet again!

“You lived your life thinking that no one cared.
You thought you were all alone, your heart feeling tattered.
I am here to tell you that you were wrong
'Cause you see - Mom - to me you mattered.

I loved you when you were angry and mean.
I loved you when you were kind as could be.
I loved you not just because I had to.
I loved you because you mattered to me.” Ruth Moris