Mothers are our first and last teachers in our lives, and probably, the most important ones too. This stands too for my Mother. But well, they are not perfect humans and err as regularly as we do, and sometimes, it is too adorable to not write about. Mummy was cute three days in a row, and her innocent mistakes made me laugh and hug her as she laughed at herself after what she did. To give a slight background of Mummy, she hails from Amreli, a small town in south-eastern Gujarat. She dropped out of school in her 10th Grade due to family issues. Whatever education she received was in Gujarati, and has a hard time speaking or even comprehending English. Despite these facts, she maintains an active presence on Whatsapp Family groups and Facebook via her smartphone (I have to intervene time and again when she forgets how to attach a photo).
Day 1: Delhi for Insurance Policies?
I recently got a job in New Delhi and will be moving there within a few days. So I make it a point to spend time every evening with my sentimental Mother who will miss her only child who will be off soon. I will be working at the Economic Affairs Division at an Industry Chamber, following my dream to pursue a career in policy. My mother has heard this word “policy” time and again from my mouth, and I never cared to explain it to her, presuming she knows what Government policies mean. After all, Narendra Modi is from Gujarat and he got her vote too! Innocently, she asked me, are you going to work on insurance policies that are made by LIC? I split into hard laughter as she was clueless why I reacted so. As I stopped laughing, her expressions told me she knew she was wrong in guessing that but I appreciated that she did not worry about asking me. I later gave her numerous examples regarding policies and what passes as a policy and what does not. Both of us couldn’t stop laughing after I stopped with the explanation.
Day 2: Where is my phone?
We had guests late at night the next day. They left close to midnight, as is normal. The guests were a couple and the wife was averse to anything cold. Being Gujarati, we offered them khakra to eat as it was the middle of the night and that was all we had at home that day. So these khakras as flavoured and you can buy them on Amazon. Good for us, the guests did not know about them. So Mummy pulled out 6-7 packets of different flavours from the box and offered it to them. They barely opened two of them and kept the rest of them on the table. After they left, I went to my room to catch some sleep. After 15 minutes, I heard her knocking on my door to ask if her phone was in my room. I looked around and it was not around. So we started ringing her phone and we could hear a very feeble ringtone. After going from one room to another, we figured the phone was ringing in the kitchen. We then took some more time to figure out the cabinet from where we could the feeble ringtone the loudest. We started moving stuff around, and finally found the phone in the same box as the khakra packets were kept. Turns out, that the guests kept the khakra packets on Mummy’s phone that she, in her own trip at midnight, picked up and kept in the box unknowingly. A similar laugh riot followed for a few minutes.
Day 3: Best pics of Celebration
Even after wishing the closest of relatives over phone, Mummy makes it a point to wish them over social media again, be it their birthdays or wedding anniversaries. How else will she stay active on social media? However, as she does not know English, she will very conveniently copy the immediately previous message/comment and paste it, all emoticons and punctuations intact. But she takes the effort. This time, it was my cousin’s engagement in Gujarat and Mummy could not be a part of it. She was waiting eagerly for photo’s of the bride-to-be. I observed something different later in the comments on Facebook. She had not plainly copied the previous comment which said ‘Congratulations”, she went through all comments and picked the one she liked the most. It said “Best pics of Celebration”.
The bad part is, she will see this post on Facebook and still not be able to read it. And I will not know how to explain her my motive behind writing this blog. It’s going to be tough. But I love you Mummy, and I will miss you there in Delhi as much you will miss me back home!