Dec 28, 2005. Eight years since mom died. She would have been 50 now. She won't! She left us on a bitter wintry night many years ago. I was in Class 10.
She was like all mom's of the world. Loving, beautiful and the world's best cook. I was fed like a king's ram. No one counted the calories back then. Good old days. I was born with a silver spoon clutched tightly in between my teeth.
Mom married Dad in 1977. It was a love affair. A love-affair in the 1970's Kashmir. To put things in context, a run-away marriage in Kashmir's conservative society even in circa 2005 is quiet unthinkable of. At 22 years of age in the fall of 1977, she married my Dad. In a court. Only my dad's two buddies attended. None from my father's rich landlord clan. No soul from my mother's educated, aristrocratic household. Complete filmi style. Only difference was this was real! I still call my father's friend Chacha Jee -- Uncle -- because I didn't know my real uncle's for a long time.
Extra-ordinary lady. Well that is a tad cliche' now. She was elegant. There was this extreme pallor of her face and a serene dignity that she seemed to carry so well like her cape shawl. She would never go to her rich dad's home. They had to come to our city apartment. She ensured that I got the best tutors -- only Hindu teacher's cos' they were considered more intellegent. And I had to eat and study and brush my teeth twice a day -- another rarity in Kashmir -- and if I got any spare time, pore through Tintin, Archies and Astrix comics, which -- later on -- our foriegn uncle would bring us.
My friends -- I just have 4 good one's -- loved her. She laughed and joked with them, endlessly. She would floor people with her wit. I have some of those funny bones in me. Mom was religious also. Perhaps one of the few souls, I know of, who was at once, religious and secular. Sikhs and Hindus would eat from the same plate in our home, as we did. She taught me that it is important to be a better human being before I try to be a better Muslim. I know this lesson, by heart. I think I have a more profound understanding of mankind than my faith.
On Dec 28, 1997 she met with a terrible accident. The candle blew out long before the legendary wind. I miss her affection, love and joviality. My mom had an incredible sense of humour. She now jokes with the angels in paradise.
The mother who conceals her grief
which to her chest her son she presses
Then breathes a few brave words and brief
kissing the brow she blesses
with no one but her secret God
To know the pain that weighs upon her
Sheds holy blood upon the sod
received on freedom's field of honor
Mom, 28 Sep 1955- 28 Dec 1997, RIP