Monday, May 11, 2015

My Mom- My First Expert

Mothers have to be the most wonderful beings on this earth. And I know that everyone would agree with me.

What is even more wonderful is to have a mother who supports everything you do. My mother happens to fall in that category. It doesn't matter what I say I want to do; my mother will always encourage me to go for it. She has her full faith that I can be a writer, a professor, a Mars-reacher and a Fluid Mechanics expert all rolled into one. And nothing I say, no negative energy and doubt I effuse makes any difference to it.

My mother is also someone whom all my friends love. Keeping aside the amazing food she cooks, she somehow manages to com across as a friendly person and all my best friends, when they come home, ignore me completely and kick start a conversation with my mom!

Though I have thousands of happy memories with my mother, I would like to recount a fairly recent one which made me love my mother even more.

It all started with my sudden fascination with a typewriter.

I don't remember the exact point where it started; I just remember sitting in my class one day and pining for one.

A friend of mine (who happens to be pretty selfless and benevolent), looked up to me and instantly was like- you want a typewriter? I could get you one. Many are rotting in our factory at this moment.

Without thinking anything, I jumped at the chance. I completely ignored the look my best friend was giving me from the side which clearly questioned my sanity and practicality. To be honest, I never expected my friend to be really serious about the whole thing. I mean, who gets a type-writer for someone, right?

A few weeks later, he called me and asked me if I was really serious about the typewriter thing for he could get me one from his house (which is in Howrah). Me, busy on Facebook and not thinking much, mumbled a yes.

He warned me that the thing was really huge and really heavy but I think I failed to register all that in my fantasy driven thoughts.

My world came crashing when he really did turn up with a typewriter that weekend to our college (Which is in Haldia).
When I finally registered the gravity of a 30 kg typewriter being brought by a friend who was no older than me from a place that was 200 km away from the place we studied all because of my sudden whim, my head spinned with the realization of the stupidity I did.

My best friend continued a tirade of disbelief of what I did seeing that I had come to my senses but the harm was already done.

The biggest question now was, how do I take the monstrous thing home? And what the hell do I tell my parents!

I suffered in misery for about a month with my friend getting irritated on one side for not showing any enthusiasm about taking the typewriter home and my fear on my parents' reaction.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to tell my mother. She was silent over the phone as I told her the story, tears spilling out of my eyes for some inane reason. She said only one thing as she kept the phone- I will tell your father to pick you up from the station.

WHAM.

Such a short conversation with mother was no good. Fearing my fate even more, I boarded the train, shouting down my friend's insistence of coming till Kharagpur (where I live) to deliver the typewriter.

Trust my luck for the train to be late by 5 hours that day. I normally reach home within two hours, that day it took me 7 hours. I could not even leave the train and board a bus home because I couldn't possibly drag the typewriter on a break journey all by myself.

Trying to ignore the stares I got from my fellow passengers, I wallowed in self-pity and misery for the entire trip.

Finally, Kgp came.

I expected a very angry father waiting for me at the station, but he was uncharacteristically cool. I did get a minor scolding on the way for being so foolhardy and bothering people with my silly fancies but it was milder than I was expecting. The only thing on my mind was my mother's reaction.

She was uncharacteristically silent when I got home and surveyed the typewriter quietly and after what seemed like a long, long time, she said- It has been a long time since I typed on one. I nearly jumped with happiness then, trust my mother to be such a sport!

She turned smiling towards me then and said- I hope your father wasn't too hard on you. I told him not to be since you had already repented over your whimsical decision without our scolding.

I hugged her, hard, and the happiness of owning a typewriter, finally kicked in.

Next day, we both cleaned the dirty old typewriter for about 3 hours and then, she even taught me how to type with proper fingers and all!
The typewriter after a good bout of cleaning :P

Trust a mother to be an expert in everything! Love you Mom! :)


Prose cannot explain what she means to me, I will try a poem instead-

She is the one who inspires me
the verse of my heart; my soul's melody.
the lullaby in my darkest nights
the battle song of all my fights
the symphony of the words I rhyme,
my personal conch in the sands of time.

She loves me with no demands
through all my tears, she holds my hand.
never a word that would sting me bad
a smile-generator when I am sad.
she is person I wouldn't replace for another,
she is the person I love-my Mother


This post is written for Godrej Expert.