This mother’s day Godrej Expert Rich Crème celebrates my first expert. Let’s celebrate the universal motherhood, the instinct to nurture. The essence of the mother in each one of us, something that will give us the strength that borders cruelty occasionally such that the child soars in the wide skies and experiences the oceanic depth of this journey called life.
There is this new disorder that has popped up, the disorder of the “Magna Mater” the symptoms are seen as the omnipotent mother who can shape lift, PMT’s are not allowed, lack of information is not acceptable… of course these mothers are blessed by Google Mata.
Motherhood what I have learnt is not about sacrificing. Neither my mother nor my grandmother ever sat with through my homework. I didn’t dare ask my mother for help. My grandmother though a Sanskrit and Telgu scholar and a MSc. Math, would just send me trotting to the nearest library. We were expected to resolve our playground fights at the playground. These days if you notice the kids don’t go to the play ground unescorted, an hovering adult is like a body guard the child does not learn the primary lesson of life that defining boundaries.
If there was a single piece of something left then it was divided by the number of people on the dining table, there was no question of mother giving up for kids, what I learnt was that mother is individual she has just as much right to the cakes, biscuits and off tava dosa as I did.
In my clinic have near break down mothers, who come saying that their daughters do not talk to them, well, daughters do not confide in their mothers, an older sibling, an aunt or a best friend are usually the confidants, this whole thing of my mother is my best friend is overdone, a mother is a mother, and not a peer. Then there are mothers who seem to confuse their kid for trophy and others who find it very difficult to accept that the child’s progress report is not theirs.
God bless the feminist movement, the father plays an equally important role. To the boy child, he becomes the role model, in most cases they tend to replicate the father’s behaviour. While to the girl the father is the male prototype in her life. If a child brings home a trophy the girl child would flaunt it to the father first, the son of course would share it with mother.
The best way to honour the mother’s that my generation had would be to appreciate the way they sensitized us to the various aspect of nurturing, and how the balance between the daughter-wife – mother needed. That nurturing was not about doing things for kids, but nurturing is about being there for the kids when they ask for help. Nurturing is about casting the kid out of the nest so that they learn how to spread their wings.
By the way mother s and daughter’s really become friends and each other’s support system only when the daughters grow up. Of course there are daughters like mine who slip into this equation much earlier but it is rather less common.
Sharing something from Sarojini Naidu
When spring winds wakened the mountain floods,
And kindled the flame of the tulip buds,
When bees grew loud and the days grew long,
And the peach groves thrilled to the oriole’s song,
Queen Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed,
Decking with jewels her exquisite head;
And still she gazed in her mirror and sighed:
“O King, my heart is unsatisfied.”
Queen Gulnsar’s daughter two spring times old,
In blue robes bordered with tassels of gold,
Ran to her knee like a wildwood fay,
And plucked from her hand the mirror away.
Quickly she set on her own light curls
Her mother’s fillet with fringes of pearls;
Quickly she turned with a child’s caprice
And pressed on the mirror a swift, glad kiss.
Queen Gulnaar laughed like a tremulous rose:
“Here is my rival, O King Feroz.”