My Rockstar

She is a pillar of strength, an epitome of love and affection, as strict as a teacher when need be but equally soft and warm. She runs the household with dedication and probably more finesse than possible. She can turn into a Japanese warrior when it comes to defending her family. Pampers the son, confidante for the daughter and the support system for the father. She balances the life at the home. She is supposed to be a form of God. Because he couldn’t be everywhere, he created her. He created mother.

Today I am writing this special message to my mother. She turns a year older and I guess finally there is a slight greying of hair now. 

Mumma (which is what I call her) is my Rockstar. There is just no one like her. And yes almost every kid in this world would say the same for his/her own mother, but no I am definitely sure that my mum is just out of this world.

When my grandma shows me childhood pictures of her, I can’t recognize her at all. She seems so different in them. For me,she has always been the same, huge brown eyes, wide smile and dark wavy hair. God what I wouldn’t give to be as pretty as her. She is beautiful. She has such an expressive face that you just can’t take your eyes off her.

Some women are just born mothers. They easily adapt to motherhood when it happens. But according to my mum, she was just a beginner; for her every moment when I was born was like a lesson. She says she would mess up a lot and used to doubt herself from time to time. But I guess she has nothing to be worried about, because I can say confidently that I grew up to be just fine and normal.

Sometimes I wonder how different my life would have been if she was never a part of it.

Who would have woken me up early morning for school, made that delicious tiffin which people used to steal from my school bag at times, encouraged me to sing and take up the various unusual hobbies I have, toughened me up for real world? Who would have wiped away those tears of awkwardness when I became a teenager? Who would have knocked sense into me that success always comes after couple of failures?

It’s scary to think how chaotic life can be without mothers.

She has these few silly adorable habits which are annoying at times. She loves organizing everything in a specific way, keeps a record of every damn household item in her notebook. She is extra cautious about things like preparing my bag and pencil box before exam, double checking it before I leave. She loves cooking and trying out new things. She isn’t shy of experimenting. She believes in God. She believes in luck, destiny and all those Indian traditions but she isn’t narrow-minded. In fact she has an opinion on everything. She just doesn’t like debating. If she can be sweet, she can be equally furious and lash out if we ever disobey her. Now that both her kids are independent, she misses doing all this.

She has always let me make a decision about my life and when I am confused she is there to sort the issue out. I am not able to be in touch with her much given that we live in separate cities, but there is a never a day when I don’t get a call from her. If not a call, then definitely a text message saying a simple “Goodnight” every night sharp at 11.

I miss her a lot. These past few years I have come closer to her, maybe because I am not a kid anymore and because I understand things more clearly.

Running a family is not a joke honestly. Taking care of everyone’s needs, keeping check on the finance of the family, fulfilling everyone’s demands. It is probably tougher than running some huge company.

Every mother has to face problems and struggle everyday.

So does mine. My father being in Army, there have been years when he has been posted someplace where families aren’t allowed. Times like these my mother has single-handedly taken care of two growing kids who are as different as anyone ever can be. And never ever did she give up. She would never let us know if she was facing a problem. She would try and not take out the frustration of handling things in a big city on us. She would take us out for treats on weekends like a movie or a fancy dinner and from time to time let us buy that one toy my brother wished for or the book I wanted to read for a long time. In short she never let us feel that our father was so far away working in some different state altogether.

My mother taught me way more than I give her credit for. She taught me to not give up on life when it gets worse, that there will be times when no one will be around to guide you; you need to figure out things for yourself. That sometimes it is okay to break down and cry. Crying is not a sign of weakness. It is just a means of letting out your feelings.

She encouraged me to start writing in the first place. She is the reason for the origin of this bibliophile actually. I sometimes crib about lack of friends I can share my secrets with. But in reality, I don’t need anyone when my mum is the best “deep-dark-secret keeper”.

So mumma, I thank you. I thank you for making me the person I am. I owe you my life literally. And I know I do things which upset you a lot. But trust me when I say this, one day you will be proud of me. I promise you. Because I am your 'Jhansi Ki Rani' (as you call me) and you are my Rockstar!