Every year on Mother’s Day I plan to write a piece about my mom. The reason I end up not writing it is I’m afraid that the outcome will be sappy, which I don’t want it to be. Yes, it would be quite easy for me to do a lump-in-the-throat-post that will talk about several tender memories, which will get the reader all emotional, after which they will post a comment saying how sweet the piece was.
Being the youngest of five siblings meant that my mom had me quite late in her child-bearing life. As a result, my dad and mom often felt like something between parents and grandparents to me. I’m trying to come up with a clever name for this relationship but my mind is drawing a complete blank.
My mother, who also happened to be born on this date, May 9th, was all of 4 foot 10 at her tallest. As she grew older, she began shrinking, with the result that I, who by no means am I tall man, began towering over her. My parents used to live with me in Chicago and I remember one time my dad’s colleague came over to our apartment. She took one look at my mom, gave her an enormous hug and said ‘I never thought of myself as a giant!’
The first impression that my mom gave to most people was of a warm and affectionate little lady who cooked great meals, who was a dutiful wife/mother and who lived in the shadows of my dad. Ha! Those people could not be more wrong! And although my mom was sweet and loving and warm and affectionate, they hadn't been privy to the feisty woman behind that calm exterior.
Any time there was an ugly situation that involved anyone in the family, she would be in the front, fighting for one of us. When my dad, who owned a factory that was heavily labor intensive, ran into financial trouble and wasn’t able to pay his employees, my mom was the one who broke the news to them, built a case and asked for more time. When she didn’t have enough money to run the house, she was out there, pawning her jewelry , borrowing money and never letting us feel like we were in any kind of trouble.
Not only did she bring up five children in her home, for many years she even managed a couple of hundred more as the Principal of a school. In her fifties she studied Homeopathy and began working in a charitable clinic.
She threw great dinner parties, right from intimate meals for a few to catering for a hundred people on my tenth birthday and a hundred and fifty guests at her own daughter’s wedding! Now that you have to admit is unique!
My mother was the most social person I knew. Growing up in Calcutta, she knew everyone that lived in our neighborhood and if she didn’t know them, they knew her. When I bought my home in a primarily white neighborhood in Chicago, it took her no time to get to know the neighbors. She never got fazed by her accent, the fact that she was the only saree wearing woman or that even ten year olds were taller than her. One evening when she and I were out for a walk, I was amazed at her being greeted with a ‘Hi Champa!‘ by both children and adults. Not just amazed, I was impressed and proud.
I could keep bragging about my mother but I don’t want to overdose my readers!
My mother went through a very hard time the last three years of her life. It was a big chore for us to get her to eat anything. Anything besides puchkas/pani puris, which was something that would always light up her eyes!
I’m celebrating her birthday this evening with her favorite treat. And I’m pretty sure she’ll be out there watching and getting a taste of it too!
Happy Mother’s Day to all you lovely, feisty mothers out there!
Being the youngest of five siblings meant that my mom had me quite late in her child-bearing life. As a result, my dad and mom often felt like something between parents and grandparents to me. I’m trying to come up with a clever name for this relationship but my mind is drawing a complete blank.
My mother, who also happened to be born on this date, May 9th, was all of 4 foot 10 at her tallest. As she grew older, she began shrinking, with the result that I, who by no means am I tall man, began towering over her. My parents used to live with me in Chicago and I remember one time my dad’s colleague came over to our apartment. She took one look at my mom, gave her an enormous hug and said ‘I never thought of myself as a giant!’
The first impression that my mom gave to most people was of a warm and affectionate little lady who cooked great meals, who was a dutiful wife/mother and who lived in the shadows of my dad. Ha! Those people could not be more wrong! And although my mom was sweet and loving and warm and affectionate, they hadn't been privy to the feisty woman behind that calm exterior.
Any time there was an ugly situation that involved anyone in the family, she would be in the front, fighting for one of us. When my dad, who owned a factory that was heavily labor intensive, ran into financial trouble and wasn’t able to pay his employees, my mom was the one who broke the news to them, built a case and asked for more time. When she didn’t have enough money to run the house, she was out there, pawning her jewelry , borrowing money and never letting us feel like we were in any kind of trouble.
Not only did she bring up five children in her home, for many years she even managed a couple of hundred more as the Principal of a school. In her fifties she studied Homeopathy and began working in a charitable clinic.
She threw great dinner parties, right from intimate meals for a few to catering for a hundred people on my tenth birthday and a hundred and fifty guests at her own daughter’s wedding! Now that you have to admit is unique!
My mother was the most social person I knew. Growing up in Calcutta, she knew everyone that lived in our neighborhood and if she didn’t know them, they knew her. When I bought my home in a primarily white neighborhood in Chicago, it took her no time to get to know the neighbors. She never got fazed by her accent, the fact that she was the only saree wearing woman or that even ten year olds were taller than her. One evening when she and I were out for a walk, I was amazed at her being greeted with a ‘Hi Champa!‘ by both children and adults. Not just amazed, I was impressed and proud.
I could keep bragging about my mother but I don’t want to overdose my readers!
My mother went through a very hard time the last three years of her life. It was a big chore for us to get her to eat anything. Anything besides puchkas/pani puris, which was something that would always light up her eyes!
I’m celebrating her birthday this evening with her favorite treat. And I’m pretty sure she’ll be out there watching and getting a taste of it too!
Happy Mother’s Day to all you lovely, feisty mothers out there!
