Mother

In a family of seven, if five are children then there really is a lot going on for the parents. It is all too well to say that in an agrarian society the larger the family, the better the workforce. And it was true for a long time till it became necessary for the human heart to be ambitious and want a little more.

The fourth child was a daughter. She had seen the plight of the family. She realised that if she were to escape the trials her older sisters faced everyday, she would have to do better. But who is to help a little girl who wanted, above all things to ensure that her mother got a full meal. Mother sometimes went hungry because a large family wanted economy and frugality and the ability to do a lot with very little. Five growing appetites really did not help. It did not.

Our girl observed as her mother finished off what remained in the cooking vessels after the household was fed. She watched, with a burning desire to take her mother out on a shopping spree and sit in one of those hotels and feed her to her heart's content. Sometimes mother spied her looking and called her to her bosom. She offered her a morsel like so many mothers we know do when they see their young while eating. Our girl never refused. For though it pained her to eat out of mother's share, it gave her immnse joy to be fed by her mother.

Such a beautiful thing life is. One of the most beautiful things about life is that it goes on. It continues. It finds its way inspite of all odds. It did for that farmer's household. It continued so that the older children grew up and were quite easily disposed, because they were girls and especially among the poor, a poor man always wants a bride and a poor father a son-in-law. Our girl felt the pain of separation from her sisters; she cried with them when they returned after being beaten by their husbands; she paid them visits when mother wanted to send any little speciality that smetimes was bestowed on the household. All the while, she wondered in her wretchedness and dreamt of happiness.

They say that the human spirit is indomitable. And in our country, with the lack of opportunity, the smallest ray of hope brings out with it, the very essence of the human spirit in its want. And such was the spirit of this girl that her father sold his oxen to pay for her college fees so that she could go and study in the city. She spent four hard years there while her family kept its hope of alleviation alive.

Towards the end of her studies, she came down with a condition that required the surgical removal of the tonsils. Such things are never good for a poor family. Mother sent her brother to the hospital. He met her before the operation. He opened the packet of home made sweets her mother sent her. She could not eat them. She worried as to where her brother would stay the night. They had no relatives in the city. So she asked him to wait outside the ward and eat what mother had sent while she was operated on. He faithfully did that. To this day, when I look into those eyes, they tell me of a sister who worried for her brother just before an operation and never stopped being grateful for him being there when she felt like the loneliest person in the world. And she told me of how he sat there all night and how in a special sort of way, there was a special magic of love that came and protected her.

She got a job. The first in the family. For once, things began to look up. She sent her brother to college. She gave money to her sisters so that they could gain respect in their respective household. She saved every bit she could and bestowed all her love on her loved ones. Mother and she spent an afternoon together, once, when she paid them a visit like she occasionally did, for her job was in the city. Mother plaited her curly hair and they talked of many things. She sensed that all was not right with mother. That afternoon, in the verandah of her house, they shared that special bond of mother and daughter. Mother had made her make a promise. She made the girl promise to take care of her brother. Such promises are lightly made but dearly kept.

Mother died a few months later. She had bone cancer and yet again, the family was thrown into darkness. I never met the girl's mother. But I probably do not have to. I met the daughter who cannot be any different. I met her the very first time when she took me to her bosom and filled me with the light of love and life. The girl. My mother.