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ditadevil · 5 years ago

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Tulu - an amazing woman!

People who know me well also know of my obsessive love towards my Mother. Over the last 30 years, my Mother has been omnipresent in my mind in different ways. I get bouts of memories from my childhood to growing-up days where I have seen Ma being in the situations that I now face while adulting. Over the last few years, I have always thought of penning down how she has been more than a Mother to me and finally this lockdown triggered me to write this down. So, here it goes… Disclaimer: It might seem as though my Dad is missing in all these things but let me tell you that he is the sweetheart of our lives and someday there will be a separate write-up about him.

It all begins with one of the early memories that I have from childhood; but I am going to set up a bit of context first. My Dad has been working in Bhutan (since 1987). Ma and Baaba decided that both their daughters need good education. Thereby the arrangement was that my Didi and I will stay with Ma in Calcutta and Dad would pay us a visit every 3-4 months.

My Dadu and Thakuma (Grandfather and Grandmom) also stayed with us back then. Ma taught Bengali in a Primary school just to make sure that the houses’ needs were met independently, as my Dad’s monthly money-order sometimes took a lot of time to process. So, one of my first memories take me back to this day when I was sitting with my Thakuma in the backside of our house. The backyard had many plants that my Dadu had grown. It also had a dark green coloured tube well and two nylon ropes where clothes were to be dried. I was enjoying the cool breeze and Thakuma was having cha (tea) from a small cup. Suddenly, I heard a thud which came from my Dadu’s room. He was an aged man who was bedridden. I nudged Thakuma to tell her that let’s go and check on him, but I don’t know why she ignored me and chose to not get up. That was also probably the first time that I remembered something which Ma would always tell me. While leaving for her school she would say, “Take care of Dadu and Thakuma when I am away.” So, I went and peeked inside my Dadu’s room and saw that he was lying on the ground and holding his head which was bleeding. I then ran to the kitchen and filled a steel glass with water to its brim and ran back to give it to my Dadu, leaving a trail of water behind my path. I don’t remember much of what happened after that. But I do remember that after a few weeks, my Baba came home as Dadu had passed away. More than the despair of losing a grandparent, I was more excited that my Baaba was visiting us. I started noticing things around me after that. I observed that my Thakuma used to be mean towards my Ma and when I used to tell this to Ma, she would just tell me, “Your Thakuma is old and there are many people who are mean to each other. That doesn’t mean that I have to forget my kindness and you shouldn’t too.” Later, I joined the same primary school where my Mother used to teach. Relating one funny incident from those two years. One day, back in school after the Kali Pujo (or Diwali) holidays, my classmates stood in a group and were trying to outdo each other with stories from their holidays around firecrackers. I too wanted to share my story. I told them, “Do you know what I did? I took a bunch of kaali-potka (the red firecrackers) in my palm and let it burn till the end!” The kids were amazed and that’s when I felt a tug on my shoulder. It was Ma. She told all of the kids, “Erokom kichu hoe ni… tomra baari jaao (Nothing like this has happened. Please go home now).” She took my palm (the same one which had made me immensely famous just a while ago) and we started walking. We got out of the school gate and were going back home. She said, “Baabi (Baabi and Moom i.e. wax-like are my daak names), why have you started lying? What if they try this out at home and get their hands burnt!” I wanted to justify my exaggerated story. I wanted to say, ‘what about their exaggerated stories?’ But I let it be. In reality, I have always been scared of firecrackers. I have even given up on fitting into the group of firecracker-bursting and noise-making enthusiasts of the world.

One of the next memories I have is when Baaba started to build the first floor of our house and Ma left teaching. I just started telling myself that “We are also boro lok now (rich people)”, although the rest of the family didn’t share the same enthusiasm. Anyway, there was this empty plot next to our house which my Ma used to say belonged to our estranged Uncle (the second brother). He neither intended to make a house there, nor did he agree to sell it to my Dad. They were three brothers and my Baaba is the youngest one. I still haven’t been told about the reason behind why this uncle decided to part ways with the rest of us. All I knew was that he had a drinking problem. Often, he used to come outside our house and yell at the top of his voice. What I could only understand is that he was drunk and he is yelling at Ma, calling her names. I would hold on to Ma and not let her proceed towards the verandah as I used to be really scared. She would move me aside and that’s when I started noticing this other side of my Mother - The stern one. The face which has seen a lot and will not take up any unnecessary drama. In a minute or two, I could hear my Ma roaring at my Uncle.” At the end of these conflicts, Mejo Jethu (Uncle) would leave and my Mom would turn back, lock the doors and gates. Her face still red, flushed with anger. But I found her to be beautiful even then. In her floral cotton sarees, gold hoop earrings, long braided hair and her red face not saying anything but reflecting a face of someone almost powerful as Ma Durga herself. I couldn’t say anything to her but just take her aanchol (pallu) and be at awe of her amazing bravery each time! The streaks of bravery were often displayed in different manners. It happened many-a-times. Slowly, I started observing how my Didi started reflecting both my Ma’s powerful stance to my Baaba’s selfless mannerisms. The following episode was one such incident. I used to both love and hate ‘monsoons in Calcutta’ – Loved it because of the thunderstorms and moments enjoying harmonious rains on our terrace. Hated it because of the creatures it brought with it.

This was one of those nights in the monsoon season when Ma, Didi and I were watching TV post dinner. Then Didi and I went on to make the bed. I was spreading the night bedsheet and my Didi was putting up the moshari (mosquito net). Ma went down to lock the doors and while coming back, between the ground and the first floor level, she noticed some movement in the water drain outlet. She called out to my Didi and I knew it then that there must be a snake. With a hush voice, I kept pleading to them to stay inside the bedroom. I said that we will lock the door and just be there. They didn’t pay any heed to me. My Didi asked me to stay safe inside the mosquito net and instructed me to not come out. I joined both my hands and kept praying to different Gods. After 10 minutes or so, both of them came back laughing and started making fun of me. They said that they have gotten the snake upstairs for me. I could smell something burning. It was the bunch of red chillies that they burnt and kept next to the outlet hole so that the snake climbs down the drainage pipe. I went and hugged Ma and my sister came in hugging me from behind. I realized that now I stay with two Goddesses!

I was not a topper from my school, but I would get by. Ma never asked me to aim for being the topper but just requested that there shouldn’t be any complaints about me. Otherwise she would have to go and mingle with other parents, which she didn’t want to do. So, I made sure that I never let that happen to her. She had to visit school once a year, only to collect the report card. There were phases though when I decided to study throughout the day. I would not let Ma go out and meet people as she had to be around me when I was preparing for my exams. I wouldn’t let anyone come home as well because that would disturb me. Those used to be the best times. She would watch TV or read a magazine, and I used to rest my head on her lap and keep reading. She says that those times were the times when she had to endure my ‘otyachar’ on her.

Now in the times of lockdown when I call her, I hear that she is alone at home and just watching TV. In my mind, I join her right there and I feel like I am with her, just lying next to her, reading a book or playing the snake game on her Nokia phone. I am glad that she chose to not be on any social media. But this lockdown has gotten her wishing that she wasn’t so stubborn. At least not refused upgrading to a smartphone. She knows that if she wasn’t so stubborn, then she could have video called her husband and her daughters. I don’t remember exactly, but when I was in class 3 or 4, I once got the highest marks in an essay writing competition. The subject was ‘If you can be something/someone for two days, what/ who would it be.’ While the entire class was buzzing with future astronauts, Presidents, Doctors and so many other great answers, I simply wrote about how I wanted to be like my Mother. I thought that she is a living example for me, with all of the superpowers one would strive for.

My answer will not change even today.

My Mother’s name is Tulu. She’s an amazing woman.

#MothersDay IloveMom MotherForever

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