My Mother

She is the most lovely lady I have ever seen. She's so mysterious always, so caring that sometimes I can't help but feel sympathetic about her. Most of the times though , my rebel nature dominates where I shrug off all her attempts when she's constantly pampering me. It's difficult to make a Bengali woman aware that she hasn't borne the ideal Bengali child who always obeys his parents to the last word and welcomes all the constant attention on him. I have detested her enough for this, so much so, that I made my feelings very visual, and said things then ,that I wouldn't have in retrospect. But,as I say it, it's all a matter of perception , or how you see it. See it from their eyes, and you will see a disobedient child; and see from mine ,and you will find a boy struggling to break all the shackles that have bound him for long.
Still, I am intrigued by my mother because of the mysterious aura surrounding her. Or is she plain simple. I will never know. When she is not onto her pampering habit, believe me, she is simply adorable. I also inherited my soft-spoken nature from her, and to a certain extent ,the introvert that I am, I owe it to her. Not that I am ashamed of being so.Far from it.I cherish it.I love to see the world with my own eyes. When nobody has any control on my thoughts , and nobody can see or steal them. In fact, my brother also is influenced by her. He also has different eyes. Far different than mine.

I loved to share all my feelings with my mother, when at school. I still remember us sitting on the balcony in the evening at tea time alone, and I used to share everything with her.She used to mostly listen. She used to project an image of a simple village girl then who has simple dreams and craves for peace every time.After I came to college,I continued to speak a lot to her, until times came when I realized that my revealing the slightest unpleasant thing would make her restless. She wouldn't be able to cure the situation of course by doing so, sitting 3000 kms,and 3 days away from me.
This blockade went on .It still is. I don't reveal anything to my mother anymore. Not that it has helped me in all ways. It sure has made me stronger. I am not a crybaby anymore. But I sure feel bottled up sometimes, because the only person whom I used to share my feelings with has been made unavailable myself. I don't engage in emotional talks with anyone. Even an introvert needs somebody to share his feelings with somebody at times. I feel all alone sometimes, now that I don't have my best friend with me anymore. Talks with parents have become exceedingly formal. It sure doesn't help having parents who care too much. And it also doesn't help having a son who thinks a lot of the consequences before he gives even a glimpse of his feelings. Not that I don't have close friends. Have plenty of gems in my closet, but I just can't make my feelings known to them as I used to with my mother. I mostly listen nowadays.

I cherish those moments from my childhood when after a hard day's work, when she settled down for her afternoon nap, I would ask her if I could press her legs or her forehead,if she had a headache. She sometimes allowed me, and used to be the happiest boy then. Such moments may never come back, but I sure intend to take my mother for a religious trip, a pilgrimage of sorts ,once I start earning for myself. I will never forget that she stood up to everybody, to focus all her energies on my education, sacrificing many things and suffering criticsm, of which I know.
I owe a lot to my mother , and can't even dream of repaying her ever.