MUMMY

Childhood was not that bad. In fact it was splendid. I used to go about my own sweet way not caring about anything or anyone, not caring who all get hurt and all the rest of it. I think I hated all grown ups simply because they were grown ups and had some uncanny control over me.

I think the relationship between me and mummy was all hotchpotches. It was all so confusing. Did I love her? Did I hate her? But since I was too busy running around, climbing and exploring, I chose the abstract path of ignorance.

When I see and interact with kids today and see their maturity and sensibility over little and big things I feel so ashamed of my childhood. I needed mummy for everything. She even used to put on my socks and tie for me a long time. And woe betides her if I fall sick. How she must have suffered the rough edge of my obstinacy and temper.

I have had more than my share of mischief, fun and my own way about things in those days. Now I want those days back just so that I can make up to her. Though I had my good times with mummy, I wish I could get rid of certain black moments which happened often enough.

• It is a universal fact that mothers can be very annoying at times.
• My mummy, being small and gentle could never refuse or force anything on me. If she tried I lashed out in a real callous manner. But she never stopped trying.
• I remember those days when I come home after school covered in dirt and bruises, she used to get so upset and angry and bathe my wounds with dettol. It stung so badly that I would simply loathe her for her hard-heartedness.
• I remember her pacifying the neighbours and teachers telling them that I am not all that bad – in vain!
• I remember her shocked and upset face every time I destroy stuffs in home in my temper. I never apologized even when I felt bad, but would go and talk to her random as though nothing had happened. But that was enough for her.
• I pretended not to notice her silent tears after evening namaz/salah or in bed fully aware that I am the cause.
• Some times she couldn’t stop herself from giving me tight slaps with her rolling pin. My retort would be to sulk and refuse food which was the highest revenge I could take. And in her desperation she’d come before me saying sorry and making up in various ways.
• Every time I get into scrape she’d threaten to tell papa when he calls. But she never tells. I thought it was because she loved me. Later I came to understand that it was because she loved him more.
• Once I tried to run away (I was in class 2 or 3), luckily she caught me from the bus stop just as I was climbing in some random bus. I had 10rs with me. I thought I could live forever with that. 

And I can go on and on. But may be later...