Acknowledgement

This is about someone rarely acknowledged. Don’t know what happened to me that I suddenly got such thoughts maybe it’s the extra glass of coffee in the morning.

She came from a middle class family that was very reserved. They need no other reason to be so than the fact that they had four girls. At that point of time during the late twentieth century even in a capital city like Delhi having 4 girl daughters was really considered to be a task. And ofcourse her parents boast about it all the time how they successfully raised four girls and more importantly married them off. But they are not the ones I m talking of; I talk of the eldest of the 4 who luckily happened to be my mother too. Never in my life could I remember of such an acknowledgement given to her. But yes somehow I am doing it now.

In some sort of an arranged love marriage she entered my father’s life which would have been a whole new world of surprises for her as she might have never experienced anything of the sorts of life my father had. He was a businessman which means some months they would be rich while some poor. Both her parents were working on fixed salaries and hence so were the family’s monthly budget. She studied in an all girl school and did graduation through correspondence. Yet she was quick in getting along with her husband’s friends and managing the guests that would visit a businessman who is also interested in being a politician. I remember one of my dad’s close friend saying how she used to keep coffee in a flask for all of them playing cards and go to sleep only to be woken up at the middle of the night coz the winner has enough money to treat everyone in the household at that point of time with an ice cream from nirulas (the only place that would serve ice cream at that time, they had that extra money needed too).

Enough of them, now when it comes to me at the very small age of learning A B C D. . . she was the typical Delhi police for me. With me, for me. Maybe my initial stages of being passionate about being Police or my passion makes me think that way. We use to wake up at five in the morning and study and do homework. Yes we both used to study. We studied together till I started taking charge of it on my own or maybe she wanted it that way. Especially Malayalam, it was new for her as it was for me. Could be a reason why I was not good at it. I made a lot of spelling mistakes I remember. She couldn’t even write it. Even before school when she was working; these are parts I don’t remember but have been told to later. It was my monopoly to help her with the pleet of saree in the morning. I didn’t like anyone else doing it. Once she left, used to wait for her looking out of the balcony for her to come back from office.

As I grew up, I required less of her help and the admiration and love also started growing towards the father. But even now, she is the one who folds the shirt for both of us. She decided what I wear and now it’s a difficult task for me when I have to choose on my own. Even worse when I have to go and buy one for myself.

Her sisters sometimes pity her thinking she has a lot of household work to do while we always think she is in our luxury. To all those who think like them, just look at us (me, dada n ammu). You will know what she did. We r all in each other’s comfort.

While I finish up this, I realize nowhere I thought of or mention what she felt. But then some habits don’t change I guess. All I know is what she would feel when she reads this.