The Cycle Of Life ( Part 1 )

“Mom’s here,” but this time only to leave forever. How often I greeted her with these words, never realizing that even words can become mortal. My senses went numb when I first saw my mother all dressed in white. I constantly heard her voice somewhere at a distance telling me not to cry, softly touching my cheeks, motioning me to dry my tears. As I looked upon her, a deep sense of grief clutched my heart. How could my mom have come to an end like this? Just how could my mom have left so soon?

I have far set memories of my darling ma. One moment which dates back thirty-one years. I hold visions of our home in Nairobi. The stair-case and the drawing dining. I remember sitting on the floor, I think it was wooden. I had a spoon in my hand which I was merrily tapping on the floor. Mom was busy in the kitchen and every now or then she would walk past me giving me an astonished look to entertain me and make me giggle for long.

My mom was my dad’s support system. She at every point in life stood by him. She began teaching during our stay in Lahore. It was probably the year 79’ or 80’. I was always fascinated by her talents. As a child of 8 or 9, I considered my mom to be a modern woman! She was not the stereo-type wife or mother. I took pride in the fact that she always involved me in her work. She had a way of bringing out the best in me. Once I and my mom made a fairy tale character for her class. I drew it and painted it for her. I remember her telling me stories about her children in class. She looked very happy. I can still remember the day I was not feeling well. She took me along to her school. I sat in her class along with the other children. I knew them all so well. And when I saw the fairy tale character hanging from the ceiling in her class, I remember how excited I felt. I was attached to each and every part of her life. I never knew that my heart would hold on to that moment so strongly. The kind eyes that told me, “We are a team!” can never be forgotten.

I was watching a movie the other day where the daughter tells the mother that the best thing that she loved about her were her hands. Reason being that whenever she had fallen sick, all night through she felt her mom’s hands on her forehead. Tears ran down my face because it reminded me of my mom’s soft hands and the loss of such an eternal love.

Once when I caught typhoid, every now and then the doctor would send me to ‘Sindlab’ as I remember it for my blood tests. My mom knew I hated needles and she always bribed me with board games. There was a toy shop right next to the lab and I actually collected a huge amount of games! At that time, I didn’t bother about the money. My mom was not a spendthrift but she made sure that she would spend where it mattered, like my games! And as her daughter today, I can tell that the pain of the needles was not just felt by me alone!

I wrote my first poem on 17-03-83. It was entitled ‘memories’. The inspiration again came from my mom’s piece of work published in her school magazine. I remember reading the poem and thinking, ‘Wow! My mom can write poems too!’ And I sat down with a pencil and since I had read a love poem, my choice of words gave birth to a wonderful love poem. Being 10, I felt a little shy sharing the poem with mom and dad, but something in my heart told me that they would like it. Dad read it out loud and my mom couldn’t believe it! She kissed me and hugged me and asked me to write another one. I wrote my second poem, ‘moon and I’ the same day! My mum loved me for my creativity. She read my work, critically analysed it but always made sure that I felt good about my work.

In grade 5, I delivered my first debate. It was something about science and its uses. My mom came to see me on stage. I wasn’t scared, just excited. While I spoke on stage, I glanced at my mom every now and then. She had her eyes down. Later she told my dad, “I was so nervous she would look at me and forget!” From her I learnt the necessity to support my child’s participation at school. My mom had always been there for me and I never asked her if she had sacrificed something important that day, just to be with me!

My mom loved surprises! Here I’d like to jot down another beautiful memory of her. When we moved to Karachi from Nairobi, we did not have a car for a very long time. Then one day, I remember my mom waking me up early in the morning. Her face was lit-up and she asked all of us kids to walk down the stairs and look at something special. It was raining. We all ran down and saw a light blue Foxy parked in our garage. Dad was wiping its windows with a duster. We all screamed with joy and went for a ride. Mom and dad shared a few affectionate glimpses as it was a moment to celebrate in their lives. And for us, it was a perfect gift! We talked loudly and from that day onwards, there were always fights as to who would sit in the corner seats!

When I turned 13, we moved to Dubai. Mom loved Dubai. She just adored her new life. Our apartment was a dream come true and Allah had blessed us with everything. My mom had a special way of bringing warmth and life in all the homes we lived in. She was naturally blessed with an eye for colour and space.

My mom and I encountered our first difference while in Dubai. I was a teenager and had turned out to be a complete tomboy! The difference just didn’t matter to me. And so, I, along with my brothers loved to go down and play with a whole crowd of boys and girls. My mom completely disapproved of my friendship with any boy and grounded me for two months. I actually started to consider my mum as my greatest enemy. She didn’t like my wearing skirts and dresses and suddenly, she just didn’t approve of anything. For a month I felt angry, and slowly became lonely. At that time I couldn’t understand my feelings but today when I look back, I definitely had gone distant with my best friend. I felt she couldn’t understand me anymore. We were not a team anymore!

The years that followed were filled with mixed emotions. We shared some very personal moments. I remember when my elder sister was about to get married, we were transferred back to Karachi. My elder brother and sister had already left. Dad was quite worried with all the changes. It was the first marriage in the house and lots of arrangements were still pending. I, dad and mom were sitting at the dining table having lunch. Suddenly dad broke down crying. I felt a lump in my throat but mom was calm. She put her arm around him and said, “I’m there for you. What are you so worried about? Allah will work everything out. Don’t let go of your strengths now!” Her words echo in my ears today because we are all trying to be strong without her, believing Allah will work things out for us!

End of Part 1