I would not hide the fact that I am afraid to sleep alone at nights. When I was young, I used to spin the yarn that I am afraid of cats. That from somewhere a cat will suddenly jump over me at night. My Mummy used to try her best to placate me, but if I had the knack of listening to advices, wouldn’t I have been better man than what I am? She used to know that it was not the cats I was afraid of but the ghosts . The one I used to see in shows like Aahat and Alif Laila. But still she did not used to spill the beans. Never figured out why? May be coz then I would have been lost for words and in no position to argue further and she did not want to put me in such an embarrassing position. So, then finally, my Mummy used to sleep besides me, at least till the time I used to fall asleep. Such a day was a Mother’s Day for me.
And then a few days back a friend of mine whose name I do not want to mention here, told me about the experiences he had when he had a trip to his village in vacations. Sinister experiences all, like he had scary but factual dreams no one could explain about. He used to have strange hallucinations about stuff he had never seen , but others in his family knew about. After he recounted the tale to me, the mouse inside me woke up, and I found it impossible to gather even a wink that night. A boy who used to lose sleep even on the memories of laughable ghosts from even more laughable shows, one can imagine what was the state of my mind on hearing what were apparently true ghastly tales. Disturbed as I was, I called my Mummy and had a chat. It was 12:30 in night and she was fast asleep. But , still she talked to me as if it were morning. She once asked me what was the matter that I was calling up so late? To which I simply managed to gloss over. I never told her about those stories. But, still after that surprisingly, all disturbances evaporated from my mind and I was able to sleep calmly though besides a friend which seemed almost impossible 15 minutes back. I could never explain what happened. Guess it was the Mummy effect which was fully operating even though she was more than 1200 km away from me. That was a Mother’s day for me.
Every time I used to leave home at the end of the vacations, she used to almost cry. She does not cry anymore, but I know she still does. Somewhere. As I do. Those are the Mother’s Day for me.
A week before I leave home after vacations, she starts asking me what snacks I want to take to hostel. She perfectly knows that they will be consumed by my friends instead of me and for that reason, I do not take any of those snacks, but she keeps persisting. In the end she finally manages to convince me to take along at least a cake- a full big homemade cake instructing that it should be finished while I am in train only, knowing fully that it is a next to impossible task for me but still hoping that I would. For that hope, every one of those days is Mother’s Day for me.
Every time she calls , she asks about my studies. And I reply that I study, “Thoda Bahut” . To which she first replies that she does not believe me that I do not study. And then goes on a minute long monologue that why I should study, knowing deep within that I have been surely kidding that I do not study well. For that innocence and ignorance every one of those days are Mother’s Day for me.
Every time I pull my sister’s hair when she irritates me (Yes, I do it even now) she comes and with her hands on hips, wonders what she is going to do with me and warns that she will report us to Daddy even though we have become slightly older now – a threat she never carries out. For those empty threats, every one of those days is Mother’s Day for me.
Any day I love her and any day she cares for me is a Mother’s day. And that is every day.
Somebody told me that today is Mother’s Day. Yes, today it is......one of those Mother's Days.
