My Mother, My Teacher

I was a little bird who was unaware of the realistic world, until her mother pushed her out of the nest.

Birds experience such scenarios very early in life whereas we human beings take several years to be put in such situations. Since our birth we are mollycoddled and loved to an extent that makes us a dainty doll. We live in the world of wonderland which is fabricated by the unfeasible stories of our parents.

In my case, my father is a splendid storyteller and all his stories were fables. I’ve known the stories of a crow, rat and tiger, sparrow, eagle and several other forest creatures. Whereas the only stories I remember of my mother was how my grandmother was once bitten by a venomous Scorpio, how my aunt was once fell from the balcony, and how she managed to top in all her classes.

When my father opted for unrealistic stories to send us (my brother and I) to sleep, my mother opted for a very realistic approach which made me closer to my father and I continued to be a daddy’s girl till I reached puberty. Puberty does make a lot of difference in a girl’s life and it did to mine too.

Fortunately or unfortunately I reached to puberty few years early to a normal girl’s age which shocked most of the elder ladies of the extended family. When I didn’t even know what has become wrong in me, dealing with those wicked glimpse of those elder ladies used to make me burst in tears and that when I  actually came much closer to my mother. Until then she was just a nanny to me, who used to cook for me, dress me in school uniform, drop me to and pick me from bus stop, assist me in completing my homework and some of the times bore me with pragmatic accidental tales of her life.

Like any other child I had a cheery life for which I now thank to my mother. She kept everything to herself and only showered affection, care and cosset to us. We never got to know, how she is butchering her desires just to endow us with entities of our needs.

When I grew up to an age when problems started reaching to me, my mother my teacher wordlessly taught me how to stay strong. With a calm and composed face of hers no one could ever imagine the struggles she encountered every day of her life. No teacher ever taught me anything beyond studies but my mother did and in a way that I also didn't realize that I've learnt a lesson today.

My heart has her beats,

My lips owns her smile,

She is not mere a mother

She is a teacher inside.

This article of mine was published by "Respect Women" with a bit alteration. 

Below is the link to that page.

 http://respectwomen.co.in/my-mother-my-first-teacher/