ente ammi....

Last day when my mother accidently spilled some milk on the floor and not seeing my wonted reaction, she asked me smiling, “Mona, aren’t you yelling at me – Amma..Can’t you be a bit careful?”.. That’s the moment I took notice of my retorts to my mom. I became reminiscent of my yelling at her...for dropping a glass, for staining the floor I swept, for that single strand of hair popping out when she tie up my hair, for asking me repeatedly to eat on time, for gazing onto my computer screen while I’m on fb and for hundred other things…

We’re all perfectionists. The fervour of “teenagehood” and all our identity assertions conjures us to believe that we ought to question every single thing we come by.. We’re impatient, intolerant and can’t give up anything we like.. I thought of how eloquently I argue in my defence to prove to my parents and to the world that I am right.

For the first time I felt bitter of my extortionate arguments which I believed were magnificently revolutionary.. Tears rolled down my cheeks as several images reeled in.

I wondered how much I would have bothered my mom in my childhood….fighting with her to wash on my own, yelling my throat out for her to carry me, piercing her eyes when she’s taking a nap after all her tiring work, making a mess at home if she’s not there to greet me when I reach back from school… And later when I grew up, all the verbal wars I made…

Amma, I never thanked you for that late night coffee you made for me before my exams.. for holding me close ,nestle me in your warmth when I am ill, for the wonderful food you make, for wiping my tears and telling me you’re there for me, for bothering to ask what happened when my face glooms… It meant a lot to me Amma… You never complained, you never was impatient, you coped up with all immaturities I had…you always gave me the best…

For the first time Amma, I truly realise what it meant when you said, “ You’ll understand what it means to be a mother, only the day you become one.”

I’m sorry Amma if I’ve hurt you by any means…I owe you all my love….

അമ്മമാരുടെ മുഗ്ദ്ധതകൾക്കി-

ങ്ങവസതിയുണ്ടോ ഭുവനത്തിൽ ?

തന്നെത്തന്നെ തീറ്റകൊടുത്തിവർ

പോറ്റി യെടുപ്പീലാരാരെ ?

.......................................................

നേടിയതെന്തപ വർഗമിതേവരെ

നെടുതാം വീർപ്പുകള്ളലാതെ?

-ഇടശ്ശേരി