Friday, September 25, 2009

The Umbilical Cord.....

The earliest memory I have of my Dad is that of him hiding behind a crowd to see if I could spot him after a month of vacation without him. I was 4, and I did spot him. He beamed with pride and joy when I ran with little steps towards him, my mother trying to keep pace with me.

The earliest memory I have of my Mom is when she caught a taxi and followed the school bus when I missed it the day of my school picnic. The harassed taxi driver managed to overtake and stop the bus, my Mom (who was a homemaker can in no terms be called assertive.....) convinced the traffic cop that it was urgent to stop the bus and hold up traffic, while I climbed up the steps to my seat, every child in there admiring my Mom!! I was beaming with pride and happiness. I was 5.

I am now 33, I have 2 children who are my universe today. I understand what it means to be a parent. I now know the pain of a parent when the child is hurt. I now understand the "NO"s that were doled out to me when I was a naughty child. I now feel the same fear and anxiousness my parents did for every 'first step' of my babies - the first little steps, the first day at pre-school, then school, the first fallen tooth, the first scraped knee.......... million other firsts to come.

I also understand the joy of giving. Every tangible movable item was first looked at with the thought "Will it be of use to my daughters?".... If the answer was 'Yes', the item promptly found its way into a remote corner of the cupboard, lovingly wrapped in plastic wrapping. Sarees, jewelery, books, pens, watches, perfumes..... the list is endless! My sister and I, at a younger age, would love the way my Mom packed up the stuff for "us".....

When we were older, we stopped noticing. I remember us telling her to take out the lovely jewelry she had, or the beautiful china she cherished....... and she'd smile and say "not now..... when you are older, you take it..."

Then came a time every parent dreads. We became young adults, with hormones, emotions and egos running wild. They were 'old-fashioned', 'strict' and 'unfair'. We were 'hep'and 'misunderstood'. We liked everything they did not..... then they began to adjust to the burgers meals and party wears..... I know those are the times I dread the most - when my kids become young adults.....

Marriage changes everything for a daughter..... I got everything I set my eyes on, and more. It took me geographically away from my parents, but emotionally closer to them. I became responsible for, and accountable to, a lot more people. My parents now stopped monitoring my clothes, my friends and my exits from home......but I would call up everyday to tell them every little detail of my life......

I am in a double income family with a successful career, able to afford reasonable luxury today. But some things don't change. Every time I have one of my precious meetings with my parents, I am showered not only with love, but also with gifts....... Earlier they were for me, now they are for me and my family.....

They say the umbilical cord never really gets severed......... maybe that explains the happiness parents feel when they keep doing things for their kids.... Maybe I will understand better when I reach their phase in life.

Dad and Mom - I love you.

2 comments:

  1. aaaaaah..!!!
    this is such a emotional post..
    you know i am yet to reach that stage in life..
    when i would become a mother..
    and see myself in my amma's shoes..
    but i am sure it will be exactly the way you have portrayed out here..
    beautiful..!!
    loved it..:)

    PS-oh...by the way..i read in your profile that you are a trainer..!! what exactly is your profile..?
    m all excited to know more you know..!!!
    puhhhlleaaasssseeeeeee ^_^

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  2. @Meoww... well, I am flattered. Especially since you are a womderful blogger yourself.

    As fas as my profile goes, I deal with soft skills training. Began as a hotelier, moved on to HR and training. Any other specific detail you looking for, write to me at meenabhatnagar1@gmail.com , and we can talk.

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