On this ‘Mother Day’, something unique happened. I had completed the write-up in two sessions by 4.30 PM in the remembrance of my mother. But suddenly, it all got washed off. Does it indicate something? I got prejudiced and thought that perhaps my mother doesn’t wish me to write about her. But I am hell bent to pen that down.
I went with my mother to her village, Bodarhi at age of 2-3 years from our village Pipra. The last female member of the family had died in the epidemic. My maternal grandfather wanted my mother to come and take over the household affairs of the family. She was the only child among so many of the brothers of my maternal grandfather. But very soon, there was another epidemic and my maternal grandfather wanted me to be taken away. My grandfather came and took me away. Thereafter, I hardly spent any time with my mother. I went to Calcutta for education. My mother couldn’t say no, as she wanted a good future for her only son.
Till 60s, my mother mostly lived in her village till her last uncle died. My father then joined her there. In between she might have visited Pipra only to attend some marriages or other family functions. My mother did all that to make me the owner of the maternal property to ensure a prosperous life for my children and mine. The property of her village was additional to my share in parental property at Pipra.
But in late 70s I had to bring my father to live with us for treatment that continued till1989. My mother mostly lived alone, and used to come to be with us only for few days. It was in 1988 that we requested her to leave the management of her land in the village and lived with us in Hind Motors. I was worried about her failing health and couldn’t leave her alone in distant village with no means to be in communication in those days. As I was spending a lot on my father, she never talked much about her trouble. On February 28, 1989, she suddenly had cerebral attack. Fortunately, I was in factory. I rushed back home and almost literally carried on my arms to the hospital. Doctors tried to revive her, but very soon she went in coma and then the end came. I don’t know if it was peaceful.
Today I look back and try to assess if I did all that to my mother that she would have wished from me. Perhaps the answer will be in negative. I was so busy working long hours. But whenever, I returned I found her waiting for me with divine selfless love in her eyes. I could have taken her to the religious places that she would have certainly loved to visit. Yamuna had taken her once to Puri, one of the Chardham. I had once taken her to Varanasi. And on both the occasion, she was very happy. And she expressed that with the neighbours in her village. Even with the advanced age, she used to keep one fast regularly and wear the jiyutia for me. It was for Jimutbahan Vrata that is very tough and taken for the long life for the son.
Today, I ponder over those days and keep on thinking why can’t the life be put back in revere as we can do a film, so that we can correct some of the injustices done to our elders.
Mothers can’t be wrong. Perhaps, it is in bad taste that we Indians get poorly rated even when it comes to the treatment of the mothers too. Let the younger generation not do the same mistake and repent later on, as I do quite often.