cover photo take a bow

She looks like a poem,

draped in yards of silk,

she looks like a dream,

just by looking like herself.

 

This month’s cover is a bit special. It’s the first time I’m featuring my mother in my magazine and she doesn’t even know it yet.

 

Some of the earliest memories I have of my mother, one which refreshes itself every few days until this day, is that of watching her through a slight opening in my bedroom door, in the morning, getting dressed for school. My mum has been a teacher all her life and she’s worn a saree to school almost everyday of her life. There are days when I hear her outside and slowly climb out of heavy slumber and watch her through one open eye. Draped in the fabric, with her wispy white hair flowing or in a bun, rushing around the house to get things done before leaving. It’s one of my favourite things to watch and never have I felt anyone look more beautiful. Of course, telling her that would be totally uncool, even though she would be gracious enough to flash me that momentary smile.

 

 

My mum has only been told of how I look like a locally made version of her wax statue and how my expressions moniker hers in the most unflattering way.

 

Little does she know of all I’ve taken from her and all I’m yet to pick up.

 

 

From a simple act of going to school, day after day, to teach. From watching her wake up early to cook, clean up and organise. From seeing her still find time to tutor underpriviledged children. From knowing she’s cooked a little extra dogfood, to feed the strays. From watching her handle a large family that otherwise should be left on the railway tracks. From noticing the patience with which she studied my textbooks so she could teach me what I couldn’t learn myself. From stumbling upon her reading books by the dozen in a corner. From learning first-hand, her skills with nature. From knowing of how she had to leave her homeland, never to return again. From watching her make every town we lived in, a home.

 

I hope she’ll some day see all I’ve taken from her and all I’m trying to pick up.

 

Dear Mum, Take A Bow

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