My Maa

ME and MY MAA

  I have this recurring dream. I am sitting on the couch with warmth around me. My mother, my friend, the woman I adore, sitting next to me. I have this recurring dream. The moment I leave her sight, the warmth would be gone. I would be lost. I would never be found. I have this recurring dream. My mother, my friend, hugging me as she brings me back to life. The comforts she gives me; the love she ignites in me; her gentle gestures, her beautiful features, her joyous behaviour, complete me. She is my idol and she is indeed my home. My mother.

              Leaving my country was not easy. It was as if I was a soldier going to a a war, hugging my mother for the last time. As I packed my luggage and checked it for the last time, I turned around. The recurring dream of warmth surrounded me. I saw the glittering in her eyes. My mother’s eyes. The eyes did not blink, the tears hidden within them will never stop. I was going for a good reason, but at that moment I questioned myself: “How will I ever survive without seeing the freshness of this person every single day?” I questioned, I questioned, and I kept on questioning, when my father yelled from the dining hall, “Honey, you ready? The cab is here!” I paused. Both of our eyes were locked. Each of us waiting for the other one to drop the act and cry, cry until the emotions were gone. The sixteen years of my life were thrown at me like the huge tsunami that hit Nagasaki, Japan. I know I’ll miss my mother, but I had no idea that our goodbye were to be this heartbreaking.

The walk to the cab was the longest of all. My steps were trembling. I was falling apart. What I didn’t know was that I was not alone. The person who guided me through every single step of my life was having the hardest time of all. Seeing her daughter go far away from home, away from her dear self, was not easy. That was the moment that hit her, she started balling her eyes out and came running to me. She hugged me so tight that my breath was at a stop. Instantly I knew it was a goodbye. I hugged her shyingly. Like that kid who is embarrassed by her mother’s actions. Little did I know that the feeling of the hug was what where my home was.

              Since then, every single day for seven and a half months, I’ve been craving for that feeling, for my selfish self to feel the exact love and care that my mom delivered in the past sixteen years. Every morning when I wake up, I feel lonely. Lonely and sad. Lonely, sad, and depressed, for my mother, whose love I used to question and the fairness of her distribution of her love amongst all of my siblings. Calling her every night was different. Hugging her and sharing all of my problems were completely different. She was my friend. My only true friend. And I took that for granted. She was my friend, my mother, my home.

                On June third, when I heard, “Please fasten your seatbelt. We will be arriving in Mumbai soon”, made me clenched my fist. It’s been so long away from home that I forgot what my home was like. My recurring dream came back to me in pieces. Pieces that were hard to put together. I walked as slowly as I could towards the immigration check as I had tons of emotions floating inside my head trying to find their way. It was the longest I’ve ever been away from my family and that what made it even harder. The music by Ed Sheeran in my ears made it even worse:

“So you can keep me

Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans

Holding me closer ’til our eyes meet

You won’t ever be alone, wait for me to come home”

As the song finished, so did my journey. There they were. My family. Waiting for me. As I saw my mother and ran, it felt like an eternity. As soon as I hugged her, the warmthness made their way back. There it was. My everything. My home. My maa.