માં તે માં બીજા વગડાના વા

My nani– my mother’s mother was unwell for many many years before she moved on to the world above. I was 13 and my mother had turned 43 years old precisely that day. We were actually having her birthday cake when we got the unfortunate call.

It has been over 9 years now and we have put up a beautiful picture of nani in our house near the dining table. My mum looks at her mum’s picture every time she fails to make some recipe she stole from her and laughs. Mumma also sometimes starts crying randomly looking at her. Every time I do something worthy of celebration, she looks at the picture and informs nani that I am doing okay. We have of course healed and moved on as a family but how does a child ever get over losing a parent? How does a girl ever recover from the loss of her mumma? Every time I call my mother sad or confused and in trouble because “I just need my mum” I wonder who mum calls when she has such moments.

The other day, I was trying to meditate and my mind went to this specific day 2 days after nani was gone. We had the besnu which is the Hindu prayer meeting where everyone comes to pay their final respects to the departed. I came back from school and found a brand-new white kurta on my bed. Mum wasn’t home, she was with her sisters. My elder sister informed me I had to wear the kurta to the prayer meeting in the evening because everyone usually shows up in white clothes to a besnu. As I had never seen death in the family, I had never been to a besnu and so I had no white clothes.
I tried it on, it fit perfectly. I was very skinny and we never found kurtas in my size but this one fit me perfectly. Without a second thought, we wore our white clothes and went to the prayer meeting. Years went by and I never thought about where the kurta came from, who got it altered to fit me perfectly and then washed and ironed right in time?

I now realise my mother did all that.

Imagine having lost the woman who gave you life and then having to go shopping the next day because your child doesn’t have the socially acceptable mourning outfit. I asked her the other day about this and she was very nonchalant about it. She said while she could have asked anyone to go buy a white kurta for me, no one would have gotten the sizing right and so she found the time in her day and did it herself.
She said she was a daughter and a mother. In that moment she chose to be a mother first and a grieving daughter second.

“My mother was gone but yours was still here–”

“Nani would have liked you to look proper.”

And I believed her. My nani was really particular about being presentable. Even in her sickness, she wore a saree until the point of bed riddance and even after that, her hair was always oiled, not a strand out of place. She had her bindi on and her gold earrings and bangles always shined. That is how I remember her. Even in misery, she was beautiful. My mother too is always beautiful, always presentable. Her hair is set, her outfits and shoes colour coordinated, and she always wears kajal and her watch. I guess like mother like daughter. I too try to show up to class looking presentable even if it’s a Monday, 9 am.

However, I wonder if my mother passed on her selfless, strong-headed compartmentalising skills to me because I still don’t get how she could prioritise my needs over her grief that day.
She always does that. She always makes sure everyone is taken care of and she never expects credit or even a mere thank you.

How do women do that? How do women always know what is needed and they somehow always find a way to provide? Who teaches women this?

My nani must be proud of the daughter she raised but I wonder if I will ever make my mother proud like that. It is 2024 and women are challenging gender roles. I am constantly trying to unlearn this feminine need to provide, to nurture and to fix. I am trying so hard to prioritise myself and my needs but then I fear if this wave of self-love and individualisation is just me letting go of the kindness and softness of being a woman, of my innate ability to empathise, of the joy of giving, of the power of the divine feminine.
I want to be a good woman, I want to be a strong woman.

I wonder, in this time and age,

Do I want to be selfless or do I want my mum to be a little selfish?