Two Women

She came to me on a moonlit night, crying, small, unsheltered, and scared to face the world. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my entire life. She had the smallest fingers and the loveliest eyes. When she cried she closed her eyes, the light hurting her pretty eyes. Fear not sweetheart. My bundle of joy. I promise you I will protect you from this big cruel world.


I opened my eyes. The light was too much to bear. There were strange people standing all around me, each one eager to hold me in their hands. I was scared. I was cold. I was tired. But the tired women holding me seemed very caring. I don’t know why, but she had tears in her eyes. She gave me warmth. I knew I had come to the right place. This woman will care for me; protect me from this big cruel world.


She was the most beautiful thing to have ever happened to me. I was on cloud nine. I was proud of her. I felt proud when others said how pretty she was. She was the only one who could comfort me during those long and cold nights. The happiest moment of my day used to be when I came back from work, and she came running towards me, hugged me, kissed me, and told me how much she had missed me during the day. I would cook for her, bathe her, and sing her to sleep. In her sleep she looked like the most beautiful angel, sent to light up my dull and monotonous life.


I missed her all day. I didn’t like the other lady who used to look after me for the whole day. I would not let her bathe me. I would cry, shout and kick. I didn’t want this person’s care. I wanted the other woman, the woman who came to me in the evenings. She used to smile at me, play with me, talk in the most melodious voice, cook me wonderful dinner. I would tell her not to leave me alone with the other woman; the woman who had a harsh voice and harsh skin. She would promise me that it’s just a matter of few days. She would then sing to me, read out stories from my story books. I never knew when I used to fall asleep. Her voice had a kind of soothing effect on me, and I would soon be floating in my Dream world.


I loved dressing her up for school. I loved asking her to hurry up. I loved packing her lunch box. I loved it when she said she had a bad stomach ache, and didn’t want to go to school. I loved scolding her. I loved to drag her to her school. And I hated to see her walk through the gates, and disappear along with the other kids in uniform. I would wait anxiously the whole day till I picked her up from her school again.


I hated her when she woke me up early during those cold mornings. I hated her when she made me have my bath during those winter mornings. I hated her when she made me hurry up with my breakfast. I hated her when she ignored my stomach pain, and made me dress up in the uniform I so hated. But I would love her when she assured me that she will be the only person who would come to pick me up after school, and that we would walk back home together. I loved her when she used to buy me ice creams. I loved her when she bought chocolates for me.


I wanted to help her with her studies. I wanted us to sit together, with me holding her hand, and guiding her hand slowly across the slate, as she slowly drew her first alphabets. But things have changed now. I sometimes have difficulty finding time for her. Sometimes her teachers teach her things which I have no idea about. When she asks me about them, I am nervous most of the time, scared that I might teach her something wrong. I tell her to ask her teacher instead. She must be convinced that I don’t know a thing. She has nowadays stopped asking me for help with her studies. And I too have stopped asking her what her teacher taught her today.


She doesn’t know anything. She tells me that my teacher is wrong. How on earth can my teacher be wrong? She is so wise. She knows everything. It is my mother who doesn’t know anything. And she pretends like she is too busy to find time for me. But I know that she pretends to be busy. She is scared that I might ask for her help in solving the algebraic problems. But I know better. I don’t even ask for her help with studies anymore.


She has grown up. She has become a very pretty lady. I now feel uncomfortable when someone tells me how beautiful my daughter is. I feel uncomfortable while walking in the streets with her. I know the boys of the colony stare at her, and pass lewd remarks. But she walks like she hasn’t even heard them. She is confident, brave and beautiful. She doesn’t ask for my help with studies anymore. She goes for her tuitions with her friends. How I envy those tutors! They have taken my place in her life. I know she feels ashamed when I ask her about the boy who calls her many times a day. Recently she asked me for a cell phone. I love her so much. I got her what she wanted. But I know she is misusing my trust. She goes out with her friends for parties, and comes home late at night. She doesn’t respond to me when I ask her where she had been. I don’t see her much for the whole day. How many nights I have waited for her till late night, so that we could at least have the dinner together. But she comes home and tells me that she has already had her dinner with her friends. I want to be with her. I want to tell her she is still my angel baby. But whenever I show some care for her, she never reciprocates. It always ends with an argument. All I want is to be loved and cared for.


She is just too much! She gets on my nerves. She keeps bugging me with stupid questions. The other day I even caught her reading my SMSs in my cell phone. She is jealous of me. I know it. I am beautiful. She is fat, and has rough skin. I have soft, silky and smooth skin. She gets angry when I wear short skirts. I know she is plain jealous of me. She keeps on looking at the local boys while walking with me. I mean why does she need to poke her nose everywhere? Can’t I even take care of myself, tell right from wrong? I am no longer a kid. She thinks I am still her baby. How I hate that. I need my own space. She keeps calling me when I am out with my friends. Sometimes when I don’t pick up her calls, she even calls my friends. My friends tease me after that. How much I hate her then. Why can’t she understand me? All I want is to be loved and cared for.


She has gone away. My angel bird has got her wings, and flown away. She lives in a different city now. She says she is independent now. She earns her own money now, says she has no need for pocket money from me now. I call her sometimes. But she is busy most of the times. We talk for very short time. But she tells me she is happy, and that is what makes me happy too. I keep asking her when is she coming back home next. She tells me that she doesn’t get her leaves so easily. I understand. I just hope my baby is safe in this world. I still remember how she used to be so frightened during those rainy nights, during power cuts at nights, and while watching violent scenes in movies. She used to cling to me at those moments. Now she isn’t even scared of living of her own in a big, ugly city. God just keep her safe. She is my dear daughter.


I miss her sometimes. I miss her most when I have to cook my own food, wash my own clothes. I miss her when I watch movies alone in my apartment. I call her sometimes. But she calls me more frequently than I do. But she mostly calls me during office hours. And I can’t talk during meetings, and office hours. I am busy most of the time. And by the time I get home, I am too tired to talk. I know she thinks I am ignoring me. I know she is lonely and old. But I don’t know what I can do to help her. I can only pray to God to keep her safe. She is my dear mother.


She got married. She found her life partner. She has her own life now. She has her own family now. We talk sometimes. Maybe once in two weeks. We talk for long hours. We talk of her childhood. We talk about her family, about her job, about her kids, about her husband. She comes to visit me sometimes. But I know she is worried about my worsening health. I keep telling her that I am fine. The young boy she sent takes good care of me. She keeps reminding me to take my medicines on time. I am happy. I needed this long break. But I still don’t understand how my Angel grew up so quickly. It was only the other day that I bought her to this world. She was so tiny, so scared, and so beautiful. Now she has grown up. I miss my angel daughter.


When I see my kids, I understand how much my mother used to love me. She cared for me so much. She was so concerned about my well being. She was so protective. It is because of her that I am what I am today. She is the world’s best mother. But now she is weak and sick. I know she needs me. She is the world’s most beautiful lady. Even in her old age she looks so graceful and bold. I am proud of my mother. Only if I could find some time and go rest in her lap once again. I long for those childhood days when I used to wake up at night after a bad dream, and went to sleep in her bed, assured of her protective hands over my head. If only I could find more time for her. She doesn’t deserve to be alone like this. Not while I am alive. I miss you mother. You are the best mother in this world.