She starts by meaning everything to you as you learn to wander further beyond your crib, she watches over you as you take your first step, wobbly but heartfelt, and you learn your first word, ‘Mama’. Your heart always returns her love with the same intensity. You unabashedly cling to her despite the world waiting to pick you up in their arms. You want to emulate her every step of the way, mirrored in how you break into reverberating laughter & piercing cries.
You yearn for her whenever trouble hovers, hiding behind her whenever a stern face peers down at you, and she saves you every time, isn’t it?
You cannot let her out of your sight as you’re scared of losing her along the way. She sings you lullabies sourced from magical lands & worlds, and you listen to those with rapt attention and travel with her to places that seem too simple to be real, in hindsight.
But then you start growing up, and the weight of simplicity weighs too lightly on you, you look at grown-ups and admire their complexities, and you start noticing how your father’s tone changes whenever he is on the phone or when your mother admonishes the house help for something that was not her fault but yours.
You read books and come to realize that fairy lands exist only in your mother’s lullabies. You discover worlds bigger than your mom’s simple tales. These are full of people. Your discovery begins, you start taking an interest in people who haven’t spent nine months of their lives sheltering you. Since you were never a part of them, you learn, albeit by experience, that you are not entitled to their bountiful unconditional love.
You learn about the different forms of love and how they’re meant for different people, the more you learn, the more torn you become.
You learn to use love as a currency, and worrying about its longevity, you start using it miserly.
Earlier whenever you got hurt by the world’s meanness, you would run to your mom & weep into her bosom. But eventually, you started returning the meanness in the same fervor. You train yourself to ignore, repel or respond to the world’s meanness, your tone also changes like your father’s as you start appreciating the daunting weight of complexity on your restless shoulders.
Soon, you start resenting simplicity, considering it a weakness, and gradually you are embarrassed by it, just like how you are ashamed of your mom when she comes to pick you up from school. Your embarrassment concealed in misplaced anger, manifests unceremoniously, as you pick fights with your mom on things that are not in her control. Soon, you have your first crush, your first cigarette, and preferred friends to Mom.
You admonish books but burrow yourself into them when exams come calling.
You love your friends like they mean the world to you but often despise them when they perform better. The more they succeed, the more you grow apart. Hours of conversations condense to brief exchanges over messages.
You fall in and out of love innumerable times, never quite understanding it well. You realize your shoulders are weary, overwhelmed by the relentless weight of complexities, you miss simplicity and your mother. You promise to speak more often.
Soon, you find a job that pays you well, but somehow, you are never satisfied. You lose track of time and forget the promise of keeping in touch with your mother. Your life is now a labyrinth, to keep up, you force yourself to persevere through the crippling weight on your shoulders.
You spot the first greys on your temple & shudder at the thought of your mortality; your mother looks at you from a garlanded photo in your living room. You often converse with her in monologues when no one is watching, her kind eyes reflecting your tearful ones. You now realize what it takes to be a parent. Just like her, you want to protect your child from every danger, you want to hide her from the world’s meanness and turmoil.
You see your childhood in those eyes, full of innocence & simplicity, you solemnly swear to keep them alive in her.
And the cycle goes on.
Fingers in symphony 