Monday, May 13, 2013

To Ma

I stood as a kid in front of the mirror, and looked for similarities with you. Your smooth, white complexion, the graceful neck, the straight hair – I did not seem to have been blessed with any of it. The sting of the slap when I did not listen to you, further confirmed my fears that I was not your own.

Almost 25 years later, I cannot help but smile at the memory of my childishness. I am smiling again, as I walk by the dressing table. I am certainly beginning to look like you. The smile readily turns into a frown, as babu scampers with my t-shirt to mop the floor. I hear myself muttering some familiar words. Words you muttered when I and sis were up to some mischief. I wait to see if you heard me. To see if you will tell me that Idepend on her even to express my exasperation with my little devil. But you are busy. Busy being mommy.

I want to run to you once again. To tell you how I have waited a year - to come meet you. To touch you. To eat your food. To see you worked up over details. To drink sugary tea. To wear starched clothes. To smell the incense stick you burn every morning.

As babu runs away to lay siege elsewhere, I wonder would she miss me once she is all grown up. Would she wait to come back to me. Would she love her Ma.