Mums the World

Mummy isn't keeping too well, Nargis happen to visit Mummy a couple of days’ back and has sent me this post, Thought I would share with article with you all.
Nigar is currently with her though, Please pray for her recovery Amen!!!
I am on my way....

Mums the World

Adversity is usually faceless. Yet I have encountered it time and again- more often in the world of others but sometimes in my own little shelter too. And what is truly amazing is that for catastrophes elsewhere, whether man- made or natural, where human lives are merely reduced to numbers, the feeling is nearly always tagged with despair. And horror. But whenever adversity waltzes into the shelter of our homes, even if it is directed to only one single entity, it normally comes along with fear. And hope. And since hope is awakened only if there is a divine power to look up to, whatever the theory of evolution, old- fashioned people like me will often choose to believe in the marvel of creation. And in the power of prayers!
A week back when my sister gave me a call and said that mummy was not well I told her not to worry and that I’d talk to her. ‘You don’t understand’ she said. ‘That’s the problem. She cannot talk’. That news had me alarmed. Actually, only those who are well acquainted with my mummy and her boisterous nature will understand the magnitude of her sudden mumness.

Both my parents were named after one precious jewel. But funnily they were both differently fashioned. Feroza, my mummy with her shrill and strident voice, her hectic and boisterous lifestyle was just the opposite of Feroze, my daddy, who with his calm and soothing resonance and tranquil and serene attitude managed to touch many lives. And yet these two opposite gems not only attracted each other but also remained glued for forty- two inseparable years. Which was why when Daddy died we thought mummy would simply break down. I distinctly remember the bangle breaking ceremony where she just sat and stared at her barren wrists for hours together. Without speaking! But even though the cruel fingers of fate had untied her colourful nuptial knot, her feisty spirit refused to give in to a black and white existence.

With fond memories as fodder, she bounced back. Again and again! And even when she took a fall and broke her spine, her will power simply refused to wither. Confined to the perimeters of a single bed with her legs fastened onto a bunch of cruel metal clasps, she was relentlessly probed with the pangs of pain. Yet she survived. A year later, all her children surrounded her prodding her on to take her first step. Just like she must have watched each one of us with expectation, years ago. But this time the step was never taken. And she was bed ridden.

Then there was the question of selling our once palatial but now dilapidated White House. The debates carried on because it hurt to even imagine Daddy’s dreams come crashing down and our childhood memories being auctioned off. But we had to be practical. With none of us around, maintenance was impossible and if Mummy could not enjoy the remaining years of her life in comfort, it made no sense to simply cling onto the strong but barren emotional roots.

After the initial disappointment all of us slowly adapted ourselves to the change. And from the determined look on Mummy’s face we knew she was going to win yet another battle. Her seven children continued the flying visits in the new home, not only showering her with presents but also making certain their presence was never missed. And she continued to lie in her new bed for years- propped among the pillows in her luxurious little AC shell, as smug as a hermit crab. As long as she was surrounded with her near and dear ones she seemed satisfied. Surprisingly her inability to walk somehow doubled her ability to talk and we had a doubly voluble mummy now. One who would never once hesitate to bark out long distance orders to her adult kids, spend endless hours chitchatting with her bahus or take extreme delight in passing out her authentic recipes to her grandchildren. Mr. Bell’s invention had become her best friend.

Therefore last week when my sister said she was ‘quiet’ we knew that this quietness was definitely a cause for concern. We rushed to immediately be with her. It was strange to watch her like that. There was no doubt she would recover- my mom was a fighter but a mum mummy was something we had never witnessed in our entire lives. Within two days she regained her strength. But she still continued to gesticulate with her arms if she needed anything. And whatever little she spoke, her speech was slurred and incoherent.

One afternoon, while I was alone with her she tried to say something. ‘Masha…’, she began. I waited for her to continue. Her mouth was working but the speech was garbled. ‘Masha….kahaan…..Masha….’. I leaned closer. I gathered she wanted to know why my daughter had not come. I explained that she was no longer staying with me. She wanted to know why. Why? Goodness! Was something wrong with her memory? I gently reminded her about her granddaughter’s recent wedding and her current whereabouts.

But she kept shaking her head vehemently and carried on repeating. ‘Masha….kahaan….Misha…. Masha ….kahaan…Masha…Misha’…The only clarity in her confusion were the two names of my kids. It was obvious her brain was trying to send out signals but they were somehow getting aborted midway. She kept on trying with some more jumbled words pouring out of her quivering lips. Finally she gave up. She stopped speaking, gave me a helpless look and swallowed hard. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. Her facial muscles started to twitch. And a tear rolled down. I cannot write what my reaction was because I was so upset I simply didn’t know how to react.

Often children come into this world with their own agenda, which is mostly to test the love and patience of their parents. But with the passage of time, parents also tend to dictate a certain trial, albeit unconsciously. Which I guess is mostly to test the emotional endurance level of their offspring. For there is nothing more painful than to see time slowly carve out wrinkles on once upon a time beautiful faces. And there is nothing more excruciating than to helplessly watch once upon a time healthy bodies fade away before your eyes.

Of course Mummy is better now. But her boisterous tone has tempered down considerably. The former Ms. All India Radio barely manages to whisper over the phone. And what she painfully utters are mere monosyllables. But what is amazing is that they are always tinged with optimism. And not once does she complain. I have noticed with awe that whenever destiny pushes her to take a hesitant step backward, my rebellious mom defies it and somehow manages to take a gutsy step forward. I know she will soon tire. Everyone does. But unlike the many that I've witnessed, at least her every step is taken with a gay abandon that surprises me. And even in her confined existence she is one fiesty woman who always has and is still trying to explore every single inch of life. I guess sometimes one's whole purpose in this world is merely to serve as an example to others.

Her treatments still continue but this time I have realized that treatments need not always be followed by only a period of recovery. Sometimes it can also be a time for discovery. Yes, God works in inexplicable ways. And perhaps mummy’s silent appeal to all her children is not to spoil that mystery of His by consigning ourselves to living with a constant phobia. Rather it is better we relegate our fears to the background and live every moment with relish. Like her!

I have often wondered what it is that gets the tough going when the going gets tough. The answer is simple. It is faith. Probably courage too.I don't know but if we never decided to change our directions, we would usually end up at the same place. So once in a way one needs to stop analyzing stuff and just push on through. And hope everything works out fine.

© Nargis