Today I shall write, with no definitive affirmation that I should ever write again although I look forward to doing the same with every minuscule attempt. I am probably not making sense at present but I am sure I will as and when this narration unfolds. While I am doing this, I shall focus my energy toward the personal self, what the self within me truly feels, only hoping that this attempt does not go unnoticed and futile. It must not be necessarily taken as an inspiration (the attempt to which, to my opinion must be avoided) but simply as an easy read, for I shall bear in mind that this piece of work must contain fewer complications. Therefore, I promise you a simple read but that it should be straightforward cannot be guaranteed. Today’s narration is an attempt to achieve something hazy and indefinite, yet a goal that ought to be accomplished to clear my conscience. Call it an idle mind or liberal uninterrupted thoughts; I can only hope that this one grabs your eye till the end.
Human mind is webbed amidst a closely entwined network of thoughts and feelings. There is no beginning or end to that, but there is definitely some substance that explains the purpose of its existence, in other words, the ‘how’ and ‘why’ behind such a traffic. To follow a structured pattern throughout to organize such a haphazard network is next to impossible for there are external factors that are in constant attempt to choke the uniformity, some of them including time, situation and reasoning. One cannot exactly slot such influences into one single category because these influences may or may not be related to one another. Talking about influences, there is another inevitable factor that enhances further entangling of thoughts: Relationships.
I don’t remember mother swaying me in her arms and telling me that she loves me; I always felt I was the neglected one, being the second child of the family. But I do remember her staying up for nights to ensure that I slept well, adding onions to potatoes just because I hated them plain, buying my favourite brand of edibles and clothing and at times, watching movies and sitcoms that I truly like. She has always been lenient and calm, yet her cool and reproachful attitude towards things she detests is a sight one would regret having witnessed. She worries, not to the extent of expressing them; she hates it when I spend more time with my friends and less with family members. She complains of my ill health and lack of immunity but keeps it to cribs and murmurs. Like every worried Indian mother, she fears that I may trip off the track and lose my sense of direction if I involve too much in peer activities and relations. But there are too many things that resist her fears and stand as a hindering obstacle between us: the generation gap and our obligations toward the roles that we play in our respective lives. As helpless as it leaves us, there is nothing that can be done to ease out things between the schematic mother-daughter relationships.
This is as much I care for maternal relations, as also other relations that I consider important. The word ‘maternal’ itself implies to very touching emotional aspects of nurture, love and care. Imagine when you have lived to this day where every moment of your life apart from your responsibilities and obligations, has been spent in nurturing a relation as tenderly as that of a mother and her child, the latter who grows to be an individual from a delicate infant. To this aspect of motherhood I empathize, but I must also point out aspects of it that often reflect in non-maternal relations for instance, friendship. For people who have witnessed profound emotions while sustaining a relationship as close friends, it is a fact that must not be overlooked. Relation is like a seed, it has to be nurtured; its sustenance has to be taken care of in order that it grows into a closely knitted one. This sprouts to what we term ‘unconditional affection’ between the people involved. However, such relations have weaknesses embedded within the strength and its essence. A delicate cord that it is, once snapped into exact half, takes greater time in either healing, or burying the past. The trouble hovering is the aftermath of such phases, a searing pain that resides in memories painful and even otherwise happy ones. So, no matter how hard you try to move on, one leg is stuck in the quicksand of past and the other dangling, struggling to live up to the future. You may either accept it or you may not; you are the mother and your once best friend, a child who either cares little or is not aware of the fact that you still care. Such is the tragedy behind your benevolence and your futile affection that is unseen, unheard and perhaps, even uncared for…