For the
past twenty years I’ve been trying to unravel a mystery. Why, just why, does my
mother love to see me dance on virtually every occasion? Be it a wedding, an
engagement or a simple kirtan,
somehow, it isn’t complete until I put in a thumka
or two. Yesterday, while attending my younger brother’s first annual day
function, I think I got my answer.
My
brother is due to complete his third revolution round the sun next month.
Yesterday was his first stage performance. Seeing him in his dance costume, I couldn’t
resist but pull his cheeks. It was such an ‘Aww’ moment.
When we
reached the venue, I could see tiny tots all around... dressed in the rainbow
of colorful costumes. The school was celebrating the spirit of Unity in
Diversity. I could see the traditional
dresses of Kashmir, Kerala, Uttar Pradhesh, Rajasthan and Punjab. Walking around
in their assumed State- identities… these kids exuded confidence and joy.
When these
young performers took to the stage, imitating their teacher’s dance steps, I couldn’t
help but smile from ear-to-ear. And this smile didn’t fade for the next two
hours. One after the other, groups of confident younglings came and delighted
me. While some cried from stage-fright, the others danced with a carefree
attitude known only to children.
Seeing
my little brother dance on stage, I felt proud at being his sister. Waving his
hands, and tapping his feet, he looked like an adorable dumpling of joy. Mind
you, the girl next to him danced with way more energy and enthusiasm. When the
performances ended, there were excited calls from all around.
The
kids, drunk on their success, went berserk. Dancing off the stage or just play
fighting with their friends, they really made my day. Somewhere, I understood
the reason for my mother’s strongest wish. Just like I was happy to see my brother do well, my mother is ecstatic when I do something similar. It isn’t about dance. She just wants
me to do well in life. And if somehow, my dance makes people praise me, then
she wants it that way.
Parents,
I believe, feel the best when someone praises their child. They keep their
personal ambitions aside when it comes to their kid. My mother, she sacrificed her
career so that my brother and I could get a good upbringing. She has worked
hard with us, to make us who we are. If I were a stone, she’d be my sculptor…
carving me out into a beautiful person.
Our mothers,
they do so much for us, without ever letting us know. They want us to excel at
what we do well and get better at what we don’t. No matter the problems they are going through... they are always there for us, willing to listen to every story, every complaint, every nightmare. They soothe us when we're scared, cheer us on when we need support, encourage us when we are unsure and love us when we feel alone. Yet I won’t be wrong if I say
that all of us have belittled her efforts some time or the other. We have been
impatient with her, been rude to her. We have taken her for granted.
I know
it is not Mother’s Day yet. But I just want to thank my mum (mummy as I call
her). I know she doesn’t read my blog. She is far too busy dealing with the
mess that we create. So this silent wish goes out to all the mothers… thank you
for being who you are and nurturing us the way you do.
Love you
Mum
