I belong to a family of ever-evolving members.
A father, who grew up looking at and dealing with tough times, making sense of
things through personal experience and respecting the tiniest joys he was able
to reap throughout! A mother, who took care of a new family, when she was
herself at an age to be taken care of. She would get irritated, confused of
situations but surprisingly never stopped doing what she had to. Two siblings,
who were bonded over the touchstone of time and the bond continues to grow
stronger. A nephew, whose second skin is love and obedience.
All through my life till now, things have changed dramatically,
but what refuses to change is the willingness of this family to stay hooked,
understand each other and love unconditionally.
And here is a beautiful instance
of this superior understanding that I found in my sister, my li'l nephew and
myself for our most beloved mother!
After my father left us for his journey to the heavens ten years
ago, he didn't just create a void in our hearts, but the social stigma of a
widow also fell upon my mother. When he was alive, my mother loved to dress up
beautifully. After the weariness of the entire day due to the household chores,
she would prim herself up and decorate her forehead with a bright red Bindi, in
the evening; I never saw her put a lipstick, so her Bindi and her flaring red
Sindoor were the visual delight to my eyes. I always loved women decked up
according to their capacity and with Maa being so beautiful, the inclination
was so obvious. After Papa left, the whole ritual changed. It ceased. She
refused to even see her face in the mirror; she lost weight in enormous
amounts. The situation was awful and to get things in control we had to create
things like in past, without hurting anyone! I searched for answers in my
surroundings, I asked some real close friends whose mothers had the same
suffering and the only answer I got was..."It would take time." But
it was too tough to take it and then one day I decided, rather dared to ask my
mother if she could put a small Bindi on her forehead, as expected she got
upset. But we had to make it work, we wanted her to like herself again and
after repeat efforts by my sister, nephew and I, we could manage to give my
mother a reason to look back into the mirror. She slowly accepted that the
Bindi is no taboo and she now adorns herself with it often, though not all the
time.
This for me is a personal achievement. Whenever she goes out I make sure I see
her off with a Bindi and she smiles!
Love.Peace.Happiness
Niru
