It was the middle of August. I lay there in bed, in my shorts and vest – an undying effort of shrugging off the humidity of Karachi away. It’s 6:30am, my alarm sounds and I hear a voice – it resonates through my very being. The sound is familiar, warm and yet seems so far – the voice of comfort, of reason, and of love.
My droopy eyes nudge just enough to let my eyes take in the light shining through my window. Stretching my arms and legs I see the silhouette that stands before the light with the might only to be matched by a metaphysical force and her speech reached me in that cranky tone of voice, so familiar to us all;
“Beta, get up. It’s the first day of school.” Mother said
“Five minutes more Mama, I promise!” I pleaded like any other day.
Language is at a loss when trying to express the feelings of a mother towards her child. Only through small instances such as the shenanigans of the wake-up routine, can one begin to understand the extent of these feelings, as to how deeply-rooted they are. It is this culmination of small events that leads to the creation of something special, shaping the world as we know it. These events shape you into becoming the individual you are. Much like the foundation that holds a building in place, it is times such as these on whose foundation the love between a mother and her child manifests itself.
If any culture of the world is analyzed historically, the role of women is always brought into the lime-light. Child-bearing and rearing was amongst the greatest and most important jobs in societies and remains to be that today. Societies such as our own have evolved in a way where the intuition of woman-hood has now become a representation of honor for the family, and this goes as far as to motherhood being considered to be of such a stature that it is considered holy is some parts of the world, the most far reaching example being that of Mother Mary.
Through this we see a form of glorification of the relationship between a mother and a child, and this glorification is well-founded. She is the first one to hold you; she is the one who introduces you to this world, teaches you your first words and you imitate as well as learn from her. The mother becomes the guardian in times of fear, the helper in times when you are troubled and protector from all things that could harm you. She stays awake at night just to make sure that you sleep soundly, hugs you every time you cry and no matter what happens you know that she is the one whom you can talk too. All of this only goes to show how inseparable the two are and no matter what you do for your mother you can never return the debt that you owe to her.
The television was on; the tea simmered on the stove while the smell of Mama’s freshly fried samosas and pakoras filled the apartment with an agony that could only be vanquished if there was rain.
“Have you done your homework?!” screamed Mother as she came out of the kitchen, dripping in sweat on the account of the ventilation system not working. Armed with the infamous spatula in one hand waving it as though I hadn’t gotten used to this mode of threaten.
With my eyes fixed on the television, as I watched my favorite cartoon show I responded nodding my head.
“Show it to me.” came the reply from the monster that had emerged from its dungeon with her eyes held under that squinted look of satirical disapproval. I got up, opened that dreaded math register of mine, showing her yesterday’s homework, dawned myself with a puppy-dog look and prayed she would believe me.
“That’s my son!” replied mother followed by an unwelcomed hug and one of those big smiles where I knew I was in for an extra pakora today.
All is fair in terms of love and war; this can never be truer than when you talk about the love between parents and their children. They go to whatever lengths they can to provide for them. The only ones who know what all they would give up for their children are the parents themselves, and when one asks a parent to articulate the feelings they have they usually are met with a smile, a sigh or silence – with each expression showing a different degree of love and the greatest being silence – almost as though words have given up and hide behind the curtains while the silence takes center stage showing that when trying to speak about something so personal, words elude one’s tongue and leave silence to act on their behalf.
Waking up in the morning for school is a task everyone fears, but through it permeates the love a mother has for a child. A man once said that beauty lies in subtleties, and whatever is beautiful is meant to be loved; it is these subtleties in life that make it worth living, make life worth getting up for – no matter how difficult it is initially to open your eyes.