Circa 1976, I’m 14. One morning I walk up to my dad and say “Appa, I have to write an essay about my greatest hero. Any ideas?”. He lowers the newspaper that rules his attention between 6 and 8 am everyday, looks at me and spontaneously says, “your mother!”.
Fast forward to 2017. I’m in the kitchen fixing dinner for the empty-nesters that my wife and I are these days. Finely chopped onions along with ginger, green chilies, curry leaves, garlic and cumin seeds, reduced to a fine aromatic paste, are simmering gently in a dash of olive oil. This spicy goodness is ready to invite pieces of Alaskan salmon in their transformation to a healthy and tasty meal. Lovely Spanish chill-out music in the background adds verve to my body which is moving in unison with the rhythm.
From somewhere strikes a stroke of self-awareness, freezing me instantaneously in my tracks. I feel an inexplicable and engulfing sense of love and caring, something that I’ve never experienced before. In a flash, I become fully aware that I am expressing deep motherly love through that act of cooking.
I don’t know how exactly to convey the power of this surreal experience. But somehow I knew for sure that I felt my mother’s love in me. That divine moment changed everything about me, taught me what the relationship with my mother really is and has since given me a lot of inner peace. The road to this beautiful awakening was long and arduous.
Growing up, I equally loved, respected, feared and admired my mother. The hero in her was evident each day as she managed all family affairs with apparent ease. She was erudite, a musician and a singer, deft with handicraft, and a community leader. She admired my dad and loved and respected him. She battled financial setbacks, navigated the family through many crises including my father’s relatively early demise.
Over the many years after my father found abode in a different world, life tossed my mother around through many emotional and physical roller coasters. Her vagaries, situational and innate, projected her as an enigma in my relatively inexperienced eyes. Struggling to reconcile her points of view with those of mine on matters of all sizes, it seemed like we were growing apart very quickly. I was losing my hero.
Life is the greatest teacher. Reflecting back, I can now see that I was going through life’s tutelage in my 30’s, 40’s and 50’s as I raised my family and coped with my own share of victories and challenges. As both my mother and I changed and grew through the years, the convergence towards a point of reconciliation between us seemed elusive to me. I did a lot of tearful and angry soul searching. Somewhere along the way it seems like I started to understand what compassion and empathy were. I learned to accept my mother for the person she is.
After almost 25 years, the door to a beautiful solution magically presented itself. In 2016, my mother turned 85. Encouraged by my wife and soul-mate to kick start a new beginning in my relationship with my mother, I left my lingering ego behind and boarded a plane to India to celebrate her landmark birthday. My sisters and I took mother out to lunch. I even ordered a nice birthday cake. All through the day I felt an air of uneasiness as I was fighting my way forward towards a closure. That night I tossed and turned on my bed, sleepless and confused. Just before sunrise, I found my way to my mother’s bedroom. I curled up next to her, hugged her and broke into tears. She couldn’t hold back her tears either. I got my hero back!
“I’ve made a great curry dish that you love so much. Here, try some…how is it? Is it nice? Have some more…”. That’s one of the many ways how my dear mother was conveying her love to me and others. A wonderful salmon dinner all done, this divine motherly love was what I experienced in the kitchen that day!
My hero is very brave. She continues to fight her own physical and emotional battles as she turns 89 very soon. I now empathize with her and reach into the motherly love she awakened within me to help her and myself. Happy Mother’s Day Amma!
P.S: Writing this post has been a journey in itself. Inspiration to write this piece hit me that day in the kitchen in 2015. The experience of writing this was a flood of emotion and heart wrenching. The words flowed and I finished it – almost. But I held it very close to my heart till now because I still had many unanswered questions within me. Very recently, clarity set in and here I am with the finished product! The emotional block stopped me from writing for almost 4 years; I understand it now. It’s all good now and I’m so happy! Thanks to all those who helped me through my journey to keep my hero.
My Journey Of Gratitude 
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