Mum's Story

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

Yesterday, I walked about 10 KM. I went to HP Customer Care Center, that was named “Afroserver”—I don’t know why they had to fancy about it. I bought my laptop right after Tihar ended from Bareilley, but after I returned home, I realized my laptop was deaf—it’s microphone didn’t work. Since there are no HP center in Nepal, I thought of bringing the laptop with me with a hope that I may get a chance to go to HP center and repair it—which I did yesterday. I think I left the hospital around 3 in the afternoon after Mum had finished telling her stories and slept.

She tells a lot stories: stories of her childhood, her family, her struggles, her loneliness, her broken aims, her sufferings, but never I have heard anything jolly from her—it makes me question sometimes, ‘Is the God whom she prioritizes more than anything even herself biased with her and plays with her?’. I asked her about this; she got offended and told me to never to raise a question against GOD since God is trying to judge her threshold of belief.

Yesterday, she was particularly telling me about her Dad and his wives. My grandfather had married one and eloped with the other. Yes, I was also baffled when she said that he didn’t marry the next one—something like a living girlfriend. My mother’s mother was elder, but after my grandfather brought his girlfriend home, she took in charge of everything; the elder family had to suffer. The elder served the new one as if they were the servants of that family. The elder family had three sisters and four brothers, but the new mother had one son which was troublesome enough for the elder family.

She particularly remembers why she used to hide Chappati under the pillow at night, because in the morning, it used to be her Step-mother’s turn to make food and she used to be biased with the elder family regarding food. She told me that once she heard the younger family talk about killing them, but, due to mighty grace, nothing of such sort happened. After hearing these stories, I think I have started to trust Hindi Movies that they do represent some untold stories lying underneath and hidden in our society.

My grandfather died a long time ago due to Kidney failure. When he was suffering in death-bed, hoping for someone to give Kidney, Mum said that he apologized with my mother’s mother for everything he did. My grandmother had gone through worst time in her life after the younger one came in. He used to beat her almost every night, never value her for what she was and what she did.

She is still alive, maybe about to hit 90 soon. She is quite happy now; living a quite contend old life. She has everyone looking after her. She celebrates her birthday like a little girl: receives presents from her sons and her grandchildren, and cuts cakes. She lives her whole day by listening and telling stories. Her Daughters visit her quite often. She has Diabetes, but aunties have taken good care of her.

On the other hand, my mother’s step-mother died a month ago. My mother said that she died the most horrifying death a person could die. Her skin had all decayed; she couldn’t see properly, she had to use her fingers to open her eyes; she was lying in bed since years; she couldn’t remember people or anything as she had Alzheimer—it was as if, death would have been more peaceful than living. Also, the stepbrother is suffering in his life. His both sons have died due to drinking habit; he has two widows in his house; he has Diabetes and Hypertension; no job; no family; and solely, living his life on edge.

Whenever I think of this story, I start believing Karma more. In the best of our times, we devalue all those things we have: we hurt people, kill them alive, make them afraid of themselves. But what do we get in return, a terrible and horrifying soul. What better could it be if we chose to terminate our greed, our self-imagined ego, and live a life with humility, love, mutual understanding and respect. Even if we won’t have fortunate future, we at least will have our loved ones by our side to ameliorate the wounds of fate. Maybe that’s what keeps giving my mother enough strength to cope up with her pain—she has us.