Quiet Mountain Essays

Copyright © 2009

This Alone is Life
by
Dr. Asha Choubey

Today I have every reason to feel happy but I am sad, very sad indeed.  My second born has made it
to a dream destination; she has been admitted to the most prestigious college in the country, for her
graduate studies.  She is happy too, but she wept when she talked to me on the phone today.  And I
don’t know why, but I wept too.  I feel forlorn, as if a part of me has been ripped away.  I writhe in
pain when I am supposed to rejoice.  I don’t know what is happening to me, in fact, I could never
imagine this happening to me, of all people! The strong, strict mother who was so ambitious for her
children, who wanted her children to reach the heights she could never dare to touch in her times, is
sad - extremely sad that one of her daughters has gone on to realize her dreams!

How, with shame and remorse I remember now, it used to amuse me when one of my colleagues
would remove her glasses and wipe her tears, whenever one inquired after her son who had gone on
to pursue his M.S. at Buffalo University after completing his B.E. at one of the  IITs.  I used to tell her,
“Were I in your shoes, I would feel pleasure, pure pleasure, not a tinge of pain.”

“You will know, when your children go away,” she used to say.  

But I would just laugh this off, “I’m not such a doting mother, my love will never choke my children’s
ambition,” I would proclaim.  “Besides, I’ll be happy to be relieved of all burdens and free to pursue
my own interests.”

Easier said than done.

Now that one of my ‘burdens’ has gone, I’ve discovered I am as weak a mother as any.  Despite the
façade that I keep up, inside me there breathes a mother who would give anything to just be with her
children.

So I’m sad.  But that is not the only reason.  There is a greater, more painful realization.  Now I know
what my mother felt like when I went away from her.  As a daughter, I was sad to leave her; and she
was sad too.  I wept and she wept.  There was pain in my heart, and I thought I understood her pain
at letting me go.

But I was wrong, Mom.  How foolish I was to even imagine I knew your pain! I realize now, and I
want to tell you now, my pain was far less than yours.  When I left you, I had so much to look
forward to.  I had a new life, a new family, and a bright career.  There was pain alright, but there was
no time to brood over it.  Life was so full of events, it was only at intervals that I wept for you.   Now,
my daughter has gone away to realize her dreams, and she weeps for me, but she will adapt soon;
and when she learns to live independently, she will start valuing her freedom.  She will love me still,
but she will not want to live under my wings anymore.

God, how do I get rid of this excruciating pain! How horrifying it is to even imagine that at the end of
her five year stay in Pune, she will not come back to me! She’ll rather take up a job, and then her
prince charming will turn up to take her away from me.  So, my loss is permanent.  The bond has
been severed forever.

How I wish I could rewind the clock! How I wish I could hold my baby in my arms again! Look, here
she is puking in my arms, rubbing her nose on my silk, my ‘red nosed deer,’ my bachha has spilled
her juice on her frock and added one more chore to my life of drudgery.  Do I complain? Not at all!

Here again, I’m enjoying my morning tea, and she starts crying in her cradle.  I run to hold her, to
soothe her, to play with her.  Do I mind? Not at all.  Am I irritated? Maybe, at times I am.  But would
I want someone to take her away so I could enjoy my tea at ease? Never! At ease!? When my darling
is away? Impossible.  It’s a sin to even think so.

All this pain after only seventeen years of togetherness? How unjust! I took care of her, I looked after
every need of hers, I groomed her into a young lady I could be proud of.  And now, I have to accept
the fact that she was, after all, not mine! I feel like shouting, "No, no one can take her away from me!  
She is mine, she will always remain mine."

…But Mama, I was yours too.  You sacrificed all your life, your pleasures, your dreams for me.  Were
you allowed to keep me under your wings, forever? No.  Then, the loss was yours as much as it’s
mine today.  You learned to live with it, so perhaps will I.  How I wish I could tell you I understand
your pain now! I know now, thy pain was greater than mine.  My daughter will not understand this
now, and she is the happier for it.  But one day she will know.  She will call out to me, I’m sure, as I
do to you today.

This then, is motherhood.  Mom, I remember now, how naïve I was when I asked you, “How can a
woman love her child, when it gives so much pain at birth?”  You told me then, that I will know
when I give birth.

And, I foolishly said, “I’ll hate my child, if labour is so painful.”

It is painful, Ma, but I also felt a surge of love for my little bundle of joy, the kind of love I had never
felt before.  And, I remember now when you saw me pampering my child, how you would tease me,
“ Why do you panic when she cries? Let her cry.  Didn’t she cause you much pain?”

All my radical ideas are gone with the winds.  I would never exchange my role of a mother for
anything in this world.  I can hear my anti-motherhood friends laughing at me.  Let them laugh.
Who cares? Who has time to care? I am rushing to check if there is mail from my darling.

This alone is life.

Contributor's Notes...

Dr. Asha Choubey is Department Head of Humanities, and UGC Coordinator for the Capacity Building
Programme for Women Managers in Higher Education, at MJP Rohilkhand University in Bareilly. U.P. India.