Mom

 I have talked a lot about my dad in my blogs, but hardly about mom. 

Today, a picture popped up in my google photos. A 10 year old photo of mine. That reminded me of my mom and how she instilled small little things in me. 

The past:

Yesterday, I was talking about my parenting experiences. Today, let it be about my parent. Mom was my biggest enemy while growing up. We, the mother daughter duo, never had it easy. She was a conflicted  human being - torn between the toxic patriarchal society she was brought into at the age of 16 and the progressive values she absorbed during her formative years abroad. 

She was biased towards my brother because he is the "aankutty" of the house. I had a lot of restrictions because I am a "penkutty". She however was very clear that she didn't want her daughter to end up like her - financially dependent on her husband. She didn't believe in dowry and wanted me to work. It turned out well for me, I had the freedom to choose my partner. But, as an Indian mom driven by the patriarchal society, she wanted me to be a perfect housewife as well. She wanted me to have two kids, wanted me to cook for the family, didn't want me to be dependent on a domestic help and also wanted me to work. She also expected that I will be perfect with managing my house - it had to be sparkling clean. She wanted me to operate like clockwork - everything to be done on time, she wanted me to be well dressed and wanted me to look beautiful like how she did during her younger days. She wanted me to be religious. 

She also wanted me to live and work abroad - like all mothers, she was trying to live her unfulfilled dreams through me. The expectations didn’t stop there. The list is probably even longer than I can put into words

 Life was stressful as I tried to meet every expectation she had set. I rebelled, and it showed in every aspect of my life. 

Around eight or nine years ago, Premith and I had a talk that helped me relax. I started living my life the way I wanted. I was okay if there was clutter. I was okay if I didn’t look good. I was okay if I didn’t contribute much to the family. Mom went crazy, but she had no choice—either accept me as I am or lose me.

That was about the past. 

The present:

Today, Mom is a cancer patient. She was diagnosed at stage 4 and two years have passed since then. She is fighting boldly and going through her chemotherapy. 

I moved to Kozhikode for her surgery, helped our domestic help settle into their place, and have been supporting them financially and physically in every way possible. Today, I see many good things she has done for me.

She made me independent. She kept me away from toxic relatives, which helped me grow up with an attitude where I don’t worry about 'what others will think.' I feel like a free bird because of that.

Raising My Glass: My Toast for Her

There are two things she consciously instilled in me—To convey those, she used her loving tone by addressing me as 'Singhamma,' something she rarely does. She wanted me to be happy and content with whatever I have. She also told me to do my best and leave the rest—a quote she had picked up from a book published by my school's management, Chinmaya Mission.

She made my life less stressful in that way. I have very few expectations from life. I’m happy with whatever I have and enjoy the little things.

I always say my dad is my role model—I want to be like him. But there are also things I’ve picked up from her.

My love for driving, my love for listening to music. It comes from both dad and mom. It sets me free. Driving is one of the things I did passionately. I can drive for hours and days together - on all kind of roads. I feel instantly happy the moment I keep my hands on a steering wheel. She was a woman who would drive alone through the winding Thamarassery Churam and speak of it with pride, as if it were a badge of honor. When I started driving, navigating the ghats was supposed to be my ultimate test to prove myself. The picture of me driving through the ghats, taken 10 years ago, reminds me of the role she played in shaping the person I am today. 

I know she is not going to be around for a long time, I didn't want to write about her only after she is gone. I want to leave these words for her now—while she’s still alive—to thank her for everything she’s been to me, and for doing her best as a mom.

Mom, this is for you—for teaching me to be content with whatever I have in life

Strawberry Posset and my teenager

Did you enjoy parenting more when your kid was a toddler or do you enjoy it more now that they're a teenager?

Appu is in his early teens. When Appu was younger, we used a good cop, bad cop approach to parenting & I ended up playing the bad cop. 

Why did you decide to bring a child to this world? For me, it was simple - I wanted someone to love. The past few weeks have been stressful at work and and in the middle of it all, I realized that my decision to bring my son into this world has been the best decision I’ve ever made.. Seeing my anxiety, Premith reminded me that spending some time with Appu could relieve a lot of stress. And he was right. Just hugging him at bedtime - eased all my worries. 

For me, it’s actually easier to parent him as a teenager. Why? Because I can communicate with him better now. Of course, he talks much less than he did when he was younger—but he expresses his needs clearly, and when something is denied, he questions it.

I feel challenged, and it reminds me that I’m his mother—not his owner. I need to explain things to him, not just impose them. Thanks to his papa, who helped me understand that our child is not our possession.  

A few days ago, Appu asked me to make something with strawberries. I couldn’t do it at the time—work was too hectic.

But now that my stress levels are finally coming down, I decided to make it yesterday, even though it was a working day. I ordered our regular meals and set aside time to try the strawberry recipe instead.

We had already picked out a recipe we both liked.

I love these three pictures we took during the process.

The first one: I was trying to capture the memories of the day—but the mischievous child in him was doing his best to ruin the shot.

The second one: my own click.

The third one: he helped me take it. Honestly, I haven’t seen a photo that good come out of my camera in recent years.

Now, it feels like I’m starting to learn from him - my angry, young teenager