I am in awe of my mother. The way she has taken care of me during these difficult times is remarkable per se.

To say that I have been one of those lucky ones who have been pampered throughout my life would be an understatement. I have basked under the aegis of her parasol, as long as memory serves. I remember being independent, even fighting for independence more so to ease her burden, but the truth is when she is around I feel at home. Like I know that I will be looked after. That I can finally relax and be reckless with myself.

Even when the going was tough, she obliterated my need to even venture into the kitchen. She took all my difficult chores and turned them into her own as if all my work was her obligation to begin with.

It feels weird to be this independent and yet be dependent on her as if I was once again a baby. But boy does it feel good to be this calm, relaxed, and poised when she is around. Especially when survival is the only thing you gotta pay heed to.

It pains me to see her work so much. But then again she claims that it is nothing compared to what she has to see her son go through. I lose the tussle there.

Living with her has made me realize how simple a woman she is. Her thoughts are mostly centered around the welfare of her family. Even when she is working, she is always listening. Even when there is nothing interesting going on, she tries her best to create something interesting out of thin air. Wanting to be in on a conversation to understand what’s going on, even though some topics are hard for her to fathom, I like how she tries. It makes me really happy. I encourage her by explaining things instead of blowing her off.

It would be unfair, if I don’t comment on how extremely caring she is! No one can come close to thinking about another soul the way a mother would. There hasn’t been a day when she hasn’t come with a bowl of mustard oil to rub on my limbs. Every day like clockwork she appears with a glass of water to ensure I take my medicines. I often forget, but she walks in like a breathing reminder of my slip-ups.

My mom is the first to wake up in the house. With her around, a house literally becomes a home. It breathes alive every morning. Her regular chores look after its floors, its walls, its many corners that would have been otherwise damp and bleak. Her waking up wakes up our world. It is always a warm feeling to get awakened by a breathing house. Life commences. We get going.

Being around my parents for so many days has turned me extremely observant. I have come to realize that they are the most innocent people ever to have stepped on the face of this planet. Their harmless talks amongst themselves, about food, about the weather, small and big talks, trivia etc. are all very cosy to hear as if you were holding a plush fluffy object in your hand and feeling its softness. It made me realize that they are so very easy to live with people.

I realize there’s a part of her that misses her old life. My current situation has put a stake through her life too. In fact, I have stopped many lives. Their resumption to normalcy is dependent on my health. It grieves me to say that we do not see an end or a conclusion yet. It would be good to have that, you know, a final word, a final say. We have been dangling on a rope for too long.

But life prefers it that way, I surmise. No way to peek into the future. Just hang on to the thread and be at the mercy of the wind.