The following is a letter which my mother wrote for me just two days back, on my birthday.
I am posting this letter here as i feel some points mentioned here would benefit others as well; both girls and boys!!!
” My Dear Janhvi,
As you turn my 19 year old daughter, at 11:20 am today, I turn your 19 year old mother too. Prior to that, I had not known what it meant being a mom. It seems like ages. In the meanwhile, both you and I have grown in quantum leaps and bounds.
You will be suprised to hear, there are actually times when I miss walking on your clothes strewn in your room, standing agape in front of an almirah that seems to have been recently raided, and walking into a messy bathroom”. (Note by me[janhvi] – I was indeed a very messy girl, so what mom says is very true)
“I do not often talk to either you or anyone else about missing you because it is a sad thought and why water seeds which are certainly going to make us sad. There is pain in seeing your little one move away from your house in physicality.” ([janhvi again] – I live in an hostel, so am away from home). “After all, for years I have dressed you up, in Kashmir in huge jackets and knee high fur lined boots” ( I was between 3 and 7 in Kashmir) “, waiting anxiously for report cards, moralizing about boy friends and so on and so forth.
Much water has flown since then and now it is Jasmine’s turn.” (Jasmine is my 7 year old sister). “To each her own.
Keep growing, evolving, transforming, baby. Use every so called ‘failure’ as a ‘stepping stone’ to knowing more and more of yourself. Study, party, work, pursue pleasure but don’t avoid or escape pain. Let it come too. It brings, in it’s wake, life transforming changes. Celebrate life in all its multi hued beauty and ugliness.
Often stand away from Janhvi Pant and watch her moving through life. Be like the delicate creeper, the vine that climbs. slowly, unsteadily on trees/bamboos etc. It stays put through storms and travails. The trees that stand erect will fall, but the creeper will move on, kabhi dharti par, kabhi aakash main” (sometimes on land and sometimes in the sky).
And then a time will come when it will yield bags full of green and purple grapes and then become wine, and the wine will grow better with age.
All my love,
Maaye (mom) ”
So, for all of you who do not already do this everyday, tell your mom you love her, because in all the scoldings and the moral lectures, she sure loves you! And remember, she wasn’t born a mother, just like you are granted learning from mistakes, so is she!!
Take care everyone.
And ya, LOVE YOU MA! MISS YOU!