Mother

I sat with the phone cradled in my lap. "Hello, Ma. " I said. "Hi! How are you? How are the children?" ,she asked . "They are fine, Ma. But they miss you sometimes. I miss you too, a lot" I said, with a sob in my voice. "Nonsense, dont be silly! Why should you miss me? I am with you always.", she said in a practical tone. "Now tell me what is troubling you", she said. " Nothing Ma. Just that I am sitting at home doing nothing. I have resigned a perfectly good 'sarkari' job because I was bored and now I am sitting at home 'bored' but with no income." "Well, I did tell you not to resign, but you went ahead and did it anyway. Never mind, you will get the job you want soon. Your stars foretell that. Jupiter is moving into a better position in your horoscope in December, and things are going to look up. Dont worry. You dont believe in prayer, but please pray everyday. It will help. " she said in her usual optmistic way. My mood immediately improved but I pretended to scoff at her, "Oh Ma! You and your astrology! As if there is any method to the madness going on in this world. There is no God and its just to comfort ourselves we do all this prayer stuff" " Do you really think so, dear?" ,she asked with just a hint of anxiety in her voice, because her whole life was built on the edifice of faith and the possibility of a god-less world was frightening to her. I collected myself and moved into damage control mode: No Ma, I am just feeling a bit down, thats all. Now tell me how you have been and what you have been doing. " I prompted her, knowing this will take her mind off more disturbing vistas of a world without the Hindu pantheon of Gods and Goddesses and karma/moksha ,afterlife etc. She readily launched into an account of how her time was spent, mostly helping my niece with her homework and taking a childish enthusiasm in helping with her projects, essays, competitions and everything else that goes into a tenth class student's busy school life. I let her soothing voice flow over me, taking away my depressing thoughts and filling me with her energising strength, the kind of strength which only a life lived for sixty-eight years with unflinching hope against all kinds of odds can give.

"Mummy, What are you doing with the phone in your lap for the last half-an-hour?" my 13-year old daughter asked me. I was startled out of my reverie and I realised that I was missing my mother today more than usual. She has been dead these last three months. And it has not yet sunk in.