Maa Hoon Robot Nahi
“Last night that piece of chocolate in the fridge lured my hungry mind,
I was about to savor it when I found my toddler standing behind,
No, I didn’t let him devour it all alone,
We shared it even though we got teeny weeny bits of the piece lone;
“Am I the selfish mother?” my alter ego cried in pain,
No, I’m just a normal human, don’t question my morality in vain,
The society wants to judge my métier, my motherhood is at trial, so that be,
Dear Village, I’m a humane mother, cause happy should always start with me.”
That pretty much sums up my camaraderie with my tad. No, I’m not a godmother. I do make mistakes and learn from them. I love to work. I love to pursue my hobbies. I enjoy my ‘me-time.’
Me-time doesn’t always mean alone time. You can enjoy your time with your family too. I enjoy hand-painting with my son, scribbling on those walls and reading stories together.
My mother would have enjoyed sacrificing her time, rather life for our well-being. But I find it exhausting, not to mention a waste of my existence.
As a mother I’ve learned to perfect my imperfections. I understand why it’s important to raise a kid with quality time, nurture and channelize his energy and sturdily battle those inner demons that might tend to stain his personality. Even through my exhaustions and tiring failures to raise my kiddo, I shall never give up on him cause I’m his nurture and he is a piece of my own being.
But it’s important to unplug now and then. I don’t mind a change of circumstances once a year. I turn melancholy when I fail to caress my passions. I mourn my unhappy identity. I feel sad as a mother, frustrated as an individual, disdainful towards my very existence. I love to unwind once in a while. I love reading, spending time in my mini-library. That is my happy space.
I enjoy getting to know people. I want to enjoy the waning chill in a hill town and escape the daily routine. I’d rather sleep, take in the fresh air, trek a few laps before the sun sets.
I want to be by the beach, run along the shore, shouting out and bask in the roar of the crashing waves: a perpetual agitation that devours my anxieties. A sight that’s so reassuring.
At times, the mundane routine makes me feel off-kilter. And as I’m sifting through all my belongings, I come across an old diary in a closet. I’m about to toss it out when I change my mind. I go through the diary. I’m inspired to rewrite. I want to write anything and everything: blogs, poems or fictions.
I look up and see myself in the mirror, weary, unhappy and the very next moment, I burst out laughing. There’s no more trace of the unhappy moments, that maddening frenzy.
Now I regret not having lived the way I wanted to. But thanks to the mirror, not even a crumb of despondency lingers. I’ve rediscovered my existence; my happy space.
Sooner or later, my son too shall imbibe the message broadcasted by almost everyone and in every situation all around- that a mom’s work is optional, it is unimportant and less valuable. A mother who loves her child, would do away with her dreams and passion. I want to convey a different message, through my son.
Thank you for reading ??
By Punam Basu
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