Happy Birthday Ma...

Tomorrow is 12th September, Ma’s birthday. She will turn 63. A typical Virgo, she has a fetish for cleanliness, order, and timeliness.

A tiny, petite woman, she looks like she needs protection and that is what Baba and I did all the time. We conspired and colluded to keep all unpleasantness from her; we were accomplices in striving to snatch happiness for her from all sources. Yet, underneath this petite fragility and vulnerability ran a core of patience and endurance; she was the centripetal force that kept us rotating within the same radius, preventing us from flying off and disintegrating. Only we never realized this. Baba, a typical Leo, comes across as the stronger person; one has to live with them to realize where Baba’s strength is stemming from, the source of his vigor, his passion and enthusiasm.

We would have given anything, done anything to keep Ma happy, carefree, and smiling her glorious smile, but we failed miserably. We failed in the face of disease. We lost even before the war had begun. The disease took hold of her body, invaded her vulnerable interiors and waged war. The war ravaged her. Her trusting organs had no defense system against this invincible enemy. She suffered with an endurance that tore us apart, left us speechless with pain, and angry at our helplessness.

She underwent a major operation in the March of ’87. The surgeon, before entering the theatre, came and told us, “She has been living on borrowed time for years now. Don’t expect a miracle.” Baba could not speak. I had taken over, taken charge. I nodded. The operation lasted for 6 hours. She lived and got a new lease of life. But she also died—died in the most painful way for us. Her spirit died; her vivaciousness was gone. The trauma of the operation affected her mentally and for years she was a different person. We had to keep reminding ourselves that this is the same person, the same body breathes, the same arm will hold me one day, the mouth will curve in the same smile we had loved. We waited for all of this to happen.

Ma gradually regained composure. But she never became the happy person she used to be. One quality she did not lose is her endurance. Her capacity to bear physical pain is astonishing. Her delicate fragile body belies this strength; yet, we who know her well know how formidable this strength is. How undaunting she can be when the threat is directed at her.

© Copyright