MA

"God made mothers because He couldn't be everywhere", so said John Rudyard Kipling; in Sanskrit, "Janani janmabhoomi Swargadapi Gariyasi" meaning mother and motherland are greater than even Heaven itself, I am sure all of us express similar sentiments when it comes to their mothers. "Ma" is a universal word, syllable and a complete sentence in itself because merely calling out and the manner of calling out she understands the needs of her children irrespective of species, whether it's a cow or a human. "Ma" is one of the primal sounds, even the word "Om" comprises two parts, "Ohh + Ma", no wonder our world revolves around our mothers. Her mere presence is so soothing and comforting almost as though we have got back into her womb, safely ensconced where none can touch us and she will protect us. As kids whenever we got into any situation where we felt threatened, we just leapt into her lap where she covered us with her Sari aanchal and then we knew we were safe. As the song goes, " Meri duniya hai Ma tere aanchal mein.."!

My mother was special, she was pretty as can be, so gentle, soft spoken, loving, caring, graceful and dignified but she was more than just these, she was a very courageous and brave person, who would not shed a tear when in pain herself but would not be able to hold them back if it was one of the kids who suffered even a scratch. Well read, she was a post graduate in Hindi and sacrificed her career for the sake of her kids, as she was a Lecturer in a College in Indore, then she took up whole-time motherhood. Mothers can so easily let go their own aspirations because they always put everyone else before themselves. 

Born on the auspicious day of Sharad Poornima, (full moon day of Sharad Ritu in Indian calendar) she was aptly named  Sharad Bala, in a family where she was the third amongst five sisters, my grandfather was in the judiciary and raised her to be a simple, independent, confident, modern girl who was equally grounded and a woman of staunch principles. People who met her came back very impressed with her quiet dignity and grace, which left a lasting indelible impression on them. All mothers are great cooks, but mine was special as she could conjure exotic dishes out of the most basic ingredients and remained a lifelong student in the kitchen, always on the lookout to hone her culinary skills. My Signals  course mates still recall the treat 44 of them enjoyed on their way back from Mandu Cycle trip. Yes she could feed 44 young brats, who were a pack of hungry wolves having cycled 30 odd kms before reaching Dhar, single handedly without any help whatsoever. She loved reading and would leave the librarians gasping with her phenomenal speed. Wherever I went, the librarians had a field day as these days hardly anyone reads books so they were overjoyed at their subscriptions multiplying manifold. 

When we were growing up she was a friend you could confide in, seek refuge in her lap when there were any threats as she was there to protect us from the world and a teacher who inculcated the right value system in us kids.  She was tough when we erred, no not getting physical, just that she was angry worked as a punishment for me and I would dare not repeat any misdemeanour. When I was headed to RIMC Dehradun as an 11 year old, my complete clan was at the Railway Station to bid me farewell and all the ladies were in tears but not her, not in my presence,  as she did not want my resolve to be weakened, but later shed copious ones the moment the train chugged out of the station. 

She was blessed with green fingers, plants loved her gentle touch and would bloom in her presence. She could tend to our family cow despite having been a city dweller with no exposure to such activities, never considering anything to be below her dignity. She could cycle down, indulge in skipping with kids and if needed climb trees to grab a guava straight from the tree. A lifelong lesson for all of us, we could rough it out when things got tough. A pure vegetarian she would not hesitate in cooking up egg dishes for us when we were growing up, but refrained from  getting the hard core stuff in the kitchen. Her gulab jamuns were worth dying for, her pickles and chutneys were unparalleled, she could serve us dollops of lip smacking ice cream and also  traditional Dal-Bafla Laddoo with  her special touch. Nutrition was always healthy with sprouts, nuts and seasonal fruits always in abundance. Having been married to a Professor, she knew the importance of quality education and encouraged us to strive for excellence. My father was suffering from ill health for a while, but she was rock solid in her support and care, which kept him in good stead, theirs was an association of six decades plus.

We never heard her complain about anything, she bore it all in her own understated manner so much so that even the dreaded Cancer could not make her flinch.  An optimist always, she was looking forward to waging this battle also successfully as she had with her cardiac, hypertension, sciatica issues, emerging stronger with each encounter. But alas as things seemed to be going as per her wishes, it made a comeback with such vengeance that she finally succumbed despite the brave fight that she put up. She knew the end was near and was crystal clear in her instructions about the rituals to be followed and the actions to be taken on her demise. She lived for her kids and grandkids, who also doted on her, my brother and sister had set up their camp here itself to be with her in her last days. The clan descended here for Diwali as the end seemed to be near, a most memorable Diwali was celebrated this year. Finally she breathed her last only when her grand kids turned up, literally waiting for two days when she was unconscious and quietly passed away with her grand daughter holding her pulse. This is a loss which can never be filled and the void will remain forever, the only solace is she will remain with us always in our memories, her eyes imploring us through her photo to remain true to our cause, be humane in our approach and above all be loving and caring.