A mommy can fix things from boo-boos to dinner, she is unconditional in her love, she does not mind reading out the same fairytale story (in my case Sleeping Beauty :D) night after night just because you like it so much, she makes umpteen number of sacrifices just so that you grow up to live a blessed life and I am living one now courtesy my fab Mom.
This post is a huge deviation from my recent spate of abstract writings but I think my mum deserves a post and I am going to go all out senti in this one. Many people say that their parents are like their best friends. In my case it is true. She is like my conscience – living outside of me, a mirror that tells me who I really am both good and bad and above all has a voice that comforts me over a distance of several kilometers. I have always appreciated my mum for her courage, her simple but practical ideologies and her constant need to make sure we are ok. Yet, with my own full fledged life I have realized that, that appreciation is not even an iota of what she deserves. I know she does not expect anything from me but I sure do of myself and in spite of our differences regarding some issues and those more than occasional telephonic fights, I love her to bits and have made a promise to myself to never let her down and make her proud of me because no materialistic gifts or gains will make her as happy as the former will.
My relationship with mumma is telepathic in a strange way. She knows what is going on in my mind even before I am sure about it. These mums really are superwomen! She has believed in me beyond believing and has actively pursued all her goals , including me in all of them. Aah.. I feel all mushy from inside. Keep rocking mum!!!
Mother’s hands took us to school
Mother’s hands in the morning
Mother’s hands rain, protecting us
Mother’s hands act as awning
Mother’s hands would hold our face
Mother’s hands held the tears
Mother’s hands brail our face
Mother’s hands read our fears
Mother’s hands held compassion
Mother’s hands would bake
Mother’s hands give us her ration
Mother’s hands give not take
Mother’s hands lined by caring
Mother’s hands not smooth
Mother’s hands map understanding
Mother’s hands every groove
I had sent this poem to my mom on her birthday and I really agree with whatever the poet had to say.