The Cycle Of Life ( Part 2 )

 As a teenager, my life was a combination of sweet and sour. I found romance in everything. It was difficult to scar life with dark and frightening thoughts. Allah, however, always opens windows of learning for us, provided we are willing to take a peek.

It was the summer of 91’. We were visiting Pakistan. Afshan, my elder sister, had gotten married and her husband had been deputed as ADC to President Ghulam Ishaq. Like always, I was enjoying my time with my sister’s kids and no burdening responsibilities. That summer, we made a lot of visits to my grandma’s house at Asghar Mall. Asghar Mall was my mom’s home. She always became nostalgic when she related stories about it. It was a place where she recognized every bit of her life.

My grandma was quite old when she passed away. She probably witnessed every phenomenal happening through her life. With age, she developed this condition, I’m sure there is a medical term for it, whereby she could relate stories of really long ago with elaborate detail, but would forget things, names or faces that surrounded her then. She could not remember or relate to current events. In this scenario, one afternoon, I and mom were spending the day at Asghar Mall. Baji Khala, the eldest of all sisters and probably the only aunt with whom I shared my personal life, was in the kitchen cooking. The weather was cloudy and amazingly beautiful. I was lying on a small couch near the window enjoying every inch of the sky filled with clouds and birds.

Mom and grandma sat across the room on two single sofas. There was no conversation because we were all listening to the evergreen song, ‘Pal Pal bai jaana bai’ by Tahira Syed. I had fallen in love with the melody and played it over and over again. No one seemed to mind it. The words in the song went, “Hari Pur Nur Pur thundiyaan ne chaawaan”. I realized that the words actually transferred all these women of the family to a visit they had made to Nur Pur with the ever popular Uxi Mufti. My mom must be 8 or 9 in those pictures. Although the pictures were black and white, you could sense the colours with the joyful expressions of all of them as a family; a sense of togetherness and once in a lifetime really happy moment.

My mom and grandma listened to the song with dreamy eyes that clearly indicated that it was not just a song to them. As the song stopped, my mom turned to look at grandma affectionately. She in return smiled at her and suddenly with a puzzled look asked her who she was? The question took my mom by surprise and although she understood her mother’s inability quite well, the question was not one she anticipated at that time. She sounded offended and said, “It’s me Taskeen, Ammi jee!” Grandma stared at her for some time and then gently touched her hand. 

Mom fought her tears but couldn’t keep them from showing. I felt sad for her. I knew she was in a special picture with her mom and it’s difficult I suppose when you can’t be at that place or time ever again in your life. My grandma died that summer and Ammi cried in a way that made me understand that Asghar Mall was never going to be home again.

Today when I look back, I feel glad that I shared most of her feelings. I grew up with her and slowly even I began to read her face. Her moods became a little more visible with age. She began to trust me and confided about a lot of things. It’s strange how bonds become stronger after storms and falls. She went on long drives when she would be sad or listened to ghazals.

Myself and mom went to the same College in Sharjah. She was a teacher there. Every morning mom and I would drive to school. She was a confident driver and felt really proud when I told everyone that mom was the best driver in the house! There was a time when every morning we would get in the car and play the qawwali, “Hulka hulka suroor” by Nusrat Fateh Ali. We both sang along till we reached school and it would play umpteen times as it became our favourite qawwali. 

After I got married, I recorded a cassette of our favourite songs for mom and she told me how they always reminded her of the special times we had shared.

Mom and I went through a very rough patch before my marriage. She wanted the world for me, and I like the rebel that I was, chose to begin life from scratch. We had arguments and each time I felt an awkward distance creep in between us. At one point eventually dad intervened and I got it my way. For a while my mom felt angry but after a few cold days, the warmth returned with the realization that I too would be leaving home soon.

It’s funny how your thinking changes when you enter the real world. After my marriage, my mom and I hardly ever fell into an argument. I suppose I began to understand her as well. And even though I had married out of choice, it was an uphill task to understand a husband wife relationship. The first years opened my eyes to the blunt realties that I believe every woman goes through in her life. Knowing my weaknesses, my mom stood strong by my side. She helped me understand everything. Even when it was not my fault, she gave me the courage to let go and told me that, “Remember you have married a man, a human. You can neither punish nor reward. Only God has the power to do that. So, never play god.” And when I did begin to follow her advice, my life took a complete U-turn.

Sameer, my first born came to me the following year. It was an incredible feeling becoming a mom. My very first opportunity to peek into my mom’s world. To begin to think like her and just be like her. But very soon I realized, I could never be a mom like her. Her patience, unconditional love, her compassion was just unmatched. How difficult motherhood is and just how comfortably she balanced all her roles in life.

My mom practically brought up my son. She fed him, bathe him, played with him and there was not a single day when she did not call me to ask about him. Sometimes I felt she had lost complete interest in my life and my dreams. It was always about Sameer. Sameer’s first tooth, his first step, his first word, his first birthday till his first day at school, mom was there to love and celebrate it. He was definitely my mom’s baby. 

She used to say, “He might run away from you when you want to hug him, but remember, deep down he really wants you to run after him. Somehow, he gets his reassurance that way!”

I just wish sometimes that mom was here to hug him. I know that he misses her when he asks me to sit and watch his playstation games, when he insists on peeling the apple and cut them into squares, and especially when he asks me to make his favourite Palak Chicken! He believes that she has become a shining star and often surprises me when he shouts out in excitement and asks me to look into the sky.

There were still so many moments to come ma. Just be there for me because I’m still a confused mother and no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to fill your space. I miss you just so much!

End of Part 2