Celebrating My Mother's 76th Birthday: A Journey Through Time

I always knew when my mother was in my vicinity. I could tell that she is approaching by the khanak (tinkle) of her churis (bangles) and the jingle of her ornate silver guchha (key ring for a bunch of keys). I heard her before I saw her. Those were her hallmarks. And then the big red bindi, a beautiful saree with a sleeveless blouse, deep red lips, long hair and big eyes. A paint brush in hand. That’s the image of mum that I have carried from my childhood.

She turns 76 today.

Collage of vintage photos featuring women in traditional attire, including sarees, smiling and posing in various settings.

For children, their parents are just parents. Almost as if they were born that way – or that their lives started with us. Because that is how we have always known them. But they were children too, once. Before we came along.

I remember the childhood stories that her family, or she herself, would tell us. And I would try to piece together the little girl those stories described with the image of my mother that I carried in my head.

The girl who talked non-stop. Some thought she should have been a lawyer, given her gift for argument. The girl who could never walk straight on her way home from school. Her elder brother, my mama, remembers how exasperated he would get when she swung from lampposts and wandered about in her own wayward manner. The who played basketball, and the one who knew the streets of Delhi like the back of her hand.

So many stories, and so many versions of my mother that I had never known. I found it difficult to reconcile them with the woman I knew. I couldn’t imagine my mum jumping around, talking non-stop or getting into all sorts of mischief.

Oh, how adulthood changes us!

But then as I grew up, I started to understand the woman she was. Once I got married and had my own kids, I could relate more to her life. Often, I look back and think of how it would have been for her when she was the same age as me. She would have had similar responsibilities, similar challenges maybe, perhaps the same doubts. In my 30s I wondered how she felt when she had her first baby, how did she manage work and babies. How did she set up an institution while also raising us?

Now, in my 40s, I find myself thinking about mum in her 40s. What was life like for her then? What occupied her mind? What were her worries, her struggles, her personal victories and achievements? How did she balance everything she had to do? How did she guide her teens? How did she prepare herself as her eldest got ready to fly the nest?

In many ways, our worlds are very different. We grew up in different times, with different opportunities, expectations and challenges. And yet, in so many other ways, our worlds are remarkably alike. Two women, living through different times, navigating the same stages of life. And only now, as I arrive at ages she has already lived through, am I beginning to see her life, perhaps a little, through her eyes.

I remember when I was a teen, my mum, probably tired of her many responsibilities, would tell me to grow up soon. Perhaps, so I could lighten or just be someone who she could rely on, lean on. I can understand that now.

And as I grew to catch up with her – not so much in age as in experiences, our relationship slowly shifted from being parent-child to something else – companionship. Yes, I know often parents say they are like friends to their children – our parents were. And we try to be to our children. But this companionship is different.

Perhaps, it comes from having lived enough of life to see each other differently. We are each other’s mothers at times. I wouldn’t say our roles have switched – rather we have learnt to move into both roles with each other. I care for her – she cares for me and my children. She encourages me to spend on my self – I scold her when she buys too much for my children. (oh the clutter in my house!).

We watch movies and shows together, discuss them, and look forward to the next watch. We plan our weekends – go out with kids. We share meals, run the household and deal with the million little things that make up everyday life. With my husband in India, ma and I manage the daily business of keeping a home running. There is a rhythm to our lives, an ease in sharing space and time, that I have come to value enormously. We are no longer just mother and daughter – we are two women sharing a life.

A collage featuring several photos of women, including candid selfies and group pictures, showcasing moments of joy and companionship.

And now, as I sit alone in my living room, I find myself missing her on her birthday. She is thousands of miles away, and the house feels a little emptier without her. It’s funny how you can get so used to someone’s presence that you don’t quite realise how much it has become a part of your everyday life until they aren’t around.

Today, I wish she were here so we could celebrate together. But technology helps – my kids and I sang Happy Birthday as she cut the cake in Mumbai, with her younger daughter 😊 So till she comes back, technology it is.

Happy 76th birthday, Mum. ❤️