My Mother

Happy Mothers' Day.
Reminds me of a friend. He and his wife were coming to Delhi from Dehradun by train with their newly born daughter. They reached the platform a little late and the train started moving. He handed over the baby to a stranger inside the compartment who pulled him up and he in turn pulled her wife up. Thankfully, all went okay but even today he laments his foolishness. What if, he could not get in?

 

When we lived in as tenant in an unelectrified house with country-tiled roofing, we all seemed to get up and finish most of the work before sun comes out and evening too we go to bed early around 9 pm.

Though my mom was multilingual and fluent in speaking south Indian languages but could not read and write many if them. She was comfortable with spoken hindi, marathi, kannada, telugu and english but I had never seen her reading from sloka-books for worshipping. IN her cracked voice when she sings "indiki baramma" It was tolerable Madhyamavathi.

In later years, when Dad was lagging behind with a walking stick, my mom was almost sprinting in her fragile frame. At varnashi after finishing the rituals, for return journey they reached the station when it was few minutes for the train to leave the platform. She engaged a porter to physically lift and carry dad through milling crowd on the platform to board a random compartment of the train. She ran after the porter carrying dad and both got into the train that was just smoothly leaving the platform. A brave intelligent brisk mom in action always!

Due to tamil section admission of 4th standard already full, as a new admission I was admitted to telugu section of the school. Dad left on tour and my mom was checking me everyday after my return from school as to what I picked up for the day from the class. She found me that I was using unparliamentary words in telugu in my responses to her. Next morning she holding my hand entered the school headmaster chamber and narrated the problem . Very next day or week, I was shited to tamil medium section. Initially I was not knowing which word I utter is of particular language and for ling I could not speak a sentence purely in a single language. You can say my learning corrupted my speech . But it did provide laughter to others listening to my way of speaking as a boy for few years.

I could not be at her close proximity when she breather her last on a Sunday morning. I was wondering what were or what could be her thoughts during the dying hours. Was she in profound sleep devoid of thoughts when her soul left her body! Did soul whispered to her mind something? Did it leave through her eyetexed eyes or from her ears adorn with dangling diamond studs....so on and so forth.

It was whole of October, November and December until the Boxer's Day her daughter in law, her grand son and me running ay and night , during monsoon rains between home and hospital and Pharmacy and laundry. She had given me nightmarish time in the still hours throwing her tied legs and free hands into space from her hospital bed shouting my name ....

I too owe my memory strength and a beautiful spouse and comfortable family life to her unselfish service and total blessings .

This transported my mind to the scene how my mom engaged a coolly- porter - to board train that was leaving the platform at varnashi.

 

Here is a rejoinder not exactly about my mother or relevant to the mood of the thread.
Handing an infant or young toddler to spa stranger has its own surprises.

It was summer and sun was at its zenith. My wife was Holding toddler daughter on her shoulder in a jam packed local public transport bus. She was accompanied by her co-sister. They were standee passengers . Looking at the plight of my spouse struggling to stand with baby in the moving bus, a sitting old woman accosted my spouse to leave the baby on her lap.
A while later the old woman handed the baby back to my cosister, stood up and said her “stop to alight” would be the next and she wriggled through the croded standing passengers. When she had reached the exit end close to driver of the bus, my co-sister just noticed the silver anklet (வெள்ளி கொலுசு) missing from the legs of the baby . She shouted in tamil to stop the old lady from getting down and said what she had stolen from the baby.
The man standing at the exit prevented the old lady from moving further. We got the anklets from her knotted thalapu of the saree she was wearing!