I don’t love my mother

I don't love my mother

Mother’s day will be here in about a month and we will see how so many people go crazy thanking their mothers. They will thank them for all the thankless jobs they do. They will thank their mothers for cooking, caring and working 24×7, without a leave. I like that. I mean yeah! mothers do so much for us and they should be respected. I just wish we respected and cared for our mothers throughout the year and not on a day designated to feel thankful. Don’t even argue with me on this. Most would post status messages about their ‘wonderful’ mothers for their sacrifices simply because others are doing it. I have seen people who do not even love their mothers, send mother’s day cards and wishes. Whatever the fuck that means, means only to their social media accounts. They are different people on social media you see. They have to be good folks, cool folks, always in-vogue folks. Do you remember you mother’s birthday? No. But will you wish her mother’s day? Of course, on Facebook.

I don’t love my mother this way. I can’t love in this extremely stupid, totally pretentious way. I have different styles of loving. I am sure all of us have a unique love language. I would not say that I love my mother this way. I love her as a person. I love her as a human. I love her as my mother. I don’t love her because she cooks for me, cleans my room and takes care of me when I am sick. I don’t love her because she calls me when I am away and is always worried about my health and business. I don’t even love her for sacrificing so much for us. I don’t love her for all this. Even if she did not do what she did and what she is doing, I will love her and take care of her because she is my mother.

Being my mother, she deserves all the happiness in the world. No, I won’t bring her gifts for her cooking and cleaning. Who am I to compensate a wonderful woman for what she willfully does for me, because she is my mother. She is not my maid. I cannot compensate her love with gifts. She deserves much more than that. She deserves my respect and I respect her, first as a person, second as a mother. In my opinion, this respect is more important than the lousy talks of love you guys are interested in. Like, get the fuck off my face people. I can’t take all those cheesy selfies and bullshit you throw my way. It is not even important. It doesn’t matter to your mother. Will she ever be happy because you posted a selfie with her on Facebook? I don’t know man. I don’t know. My mother would be happy to talk to me for 1 hour instead of posting 1 selfie on Facebook.

I respect my mother because she was a pioneer. I respect her because she was the first one who stood up against all odds and reached her goal. Of course, she is no politician, no actress, no well-known humanitarian. She had a goal in mind and she fulfilled it with great care. I like the way she is paranoid about finishing things on time. I just like it. I admire that quality. Of course I admire the food she cooks but I also love it when she is totally impulsive about doing things ‘right here, right now’ types. I have taken this habit to an extreme. I am impatient. I want things right here, right now or I don’t want them at all. Haha! I am impulsive, impatient and totally spoiled by my family. Who can you blame? They are such lovely people.

My mother is the eldest of her siblings and was studying at a time when no one in our extended family cared about sending their daughters to school. We were struggling at that time, socially and financially. She was the eldest of 4 daughters. Oh! how much I hate saying it but a son was so damn important in those times. I think it still is. But my family got over it a little soon. So here we are, happy today. She studied. She is beautiful. She barely looks like she is in her late 40s. She was humiliated often when she was young. She was plump, her eyes were small, deep set. She has always been very humble. I think she is humble to a fault, but it’s okay. She studied hard. She used to study at 3 am in the morning after attending the school and helping my nani (grandmother) with all the household chores throughout the day. I do not have that kind of stamina.

She didn’t just study, breaking a few of those idiotic social norms about how girls should be and how they should behave. Sometimes I wonder, how the hell is it possible for a woman to be so sweet and delicate and be so powerful at the same time. That must be something truly magical. No frail creature, faint of heart and spirit can do that. She was married young. One norm that she could not break, almost broke her life apart. She had to be married- because, ummm.. society. It was an unhappy marriage of course. She did her best to be a good wife but when you are married to the wrong person, nothing will ever go right. He was the wrong man and sometimes I wonder if things would have been great for her had she not married him.

It was a torturous, abusive relationship. She was deep into depression. Her confidence was shattered and her image was tarnished. My mother went through the worst, just because she had to marry someone. Whatever the fuck that means! Uh! One decision and your life is down the rut. She was brave. She tried to salvage the relationship but the abuse grew stronger each day. She did something most pativrata women won’t. She sought relief. She did not wish to become a puppet. She was brave, she took her children out of the wrecked ship, climbed a small plank and somehow managed to swim to the shore. 

I am crying while writing this and why should I not? Those times. I was too young to understand but somehow I understood it all. I knew what was going around. I knew it was wrong. She is such a brave woman and I respect her, almost worship her for the one brave decision that finally brought her happiness and peace of mind. She is living life on her own terms and not for once did she give up on family. She lived a life and we, my brother and I, just try to make her life more fulfilling.

I don’t love my mother, not your way at least. I respect her. I view her as a strong, strong woman, independent of the fact that she gave birth to me. Such a lovable woman. So beautiful, so delicate, so humble and those dreamy eyes. Who would not fall in love? I feel grateful for being the first born of this amazing lady. I often wonder what she thinks about having a daughter who is a polar opposite to her. I mean, I would call a stick a stick and would not mind hitting people real hard with it too! Well, that is me. That is not my mom. She would just let you be. And I, well… I will try to discipline you into my mold. I know I might be wrong. I am trying to change it a bit. I will succeed. My brother does it very well. He is more like my mini-mother. Resembles her in every way. Me too, I am just a little overbearing. No kidding. I am a born matriarch.

It is then, and only then, that I view her as my mother. Her support, endless. Her love, endless. Not even talking about her cooking and cleaning here. That is a different story. That is what my mother chooses to do for me because she loves me and I cook sometimes when I am home. Only sometimes. Who wants to cook when she is home? Haha! Happens. I am spoiled. Everyone knows that. I was spoiled by 6 elders when I was too young. I am even spoiled by younger brother.  I am spoiled by my uncles, aunts, grandparents, siblings, cousins, everyone. Even my best friend has not left any stones unturned in spoiling me. But whatever the fuck that is, that is.

I have learnt that life is not always what you want it to be. I have learnt that you can fight back. I have learnt that I can choose whatever I wanted. I have learnt that if things don’t work out, I don’t have to drag it at the cost of my happiness and peace of mind. I have learnt that saying no is an option. I have learnt that independence is essential. I have learnt that it is important to be powerful but it won’t bear fruit unless it is supplied with a touch of love. Who taught me all this? My mother. Did she tell me all this. She showed me, in all the 25 years we have been together and in all the ways she does whatever she does.

I don’t love you. You are GOD!

Maybe you are the MOTHER of GOD!!! Talking about myself coz I always want to ensure that my spoilt self feels happy. LOL.


3 Replies to “I don’t love my mother”

  1. you made me cry. I have never paid attention to these things and you make me feel quite determined about the things I want to do for my mom. She is too old but has been through a lot and I am going through the same

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