Hello Ma,

Hope you are doing well and Papa has resumed his work. Bubloo had called and updated me about his desire to come to US for his Masters. I was happy to know that he is serious about his career. I have asked him to stay with us, while he applies to various Universities here.
Ma, I am doing fine and am expecting my in-laws this Sunday. Spring has just unwrapped and the place looks beautiful. The blossoms on the lush trees and in the gardens are astoundingly. The vistas are accessorized with white and peach flowers against the deep blue skies. I am sending you some pictures as well. You will be amazed to spot Adi walking in one of the pictures. Those were his first strides without any support.
It’s been two years, since I last met you. Although we are in touch through face-time and telephone, but I find them bereft of your presence. I couldn’t travel because of my research commitments to the University and you couldn’t travel across oceans because of consecutive open heart surgeries. We had to make do with the cyberspace. But Ma, I am missing you.  I want to sit next to you and soak myself in your warmth.
Ma, I have always loved you, but I think there is a new emotion of empathy I feel for you.  Like they say that you don’t feel the pain of a mother until you become one.
Life has come a full circle for me. At the young age of twenty three I was married to an unknown man and bundled off to an unknown land. I was upset and angry. I did not talk to you for many months and on purpose took up a Ph.D course, only to stay distracted from you. I know I am not worthy of being your daughter, but I wanted to be honest in my confession.
One year ago when Adi was born to me, my world changed.  I became a mother myself and understood motherhood.  In this one year I have revisited the lanes and by-lanes of my childhood, adolescence and grown-up years. Your teachings, grooming and rebuttals are fresh to me like yesterdays lesson. Ma, my love and respect for you has grown many folds.
Do you remember when we had got transferred to a new city and we took the local bus to travel to my school?  I have a sketchy picture in my mind.  A man vacated his seat for us, you made me sit down and you stood stoic next to me with both your hands on the respective seat handle bars, covering me. At that point I didn’t understand your reason to decline to share the seat with me. I thought you did not sit because your cotton saree would crush. Now after so many years I got my answer. You stood like a rock protecting me from piercing eyes and jutting bodies.
You always stood at the bus-stop waiting for me and Bubloo with two umbrellas and a water bottle. In the hot scorching sun I would dismount from the bus and rush to you…alas only for the umbrella and water. Unmindful I did not even acknowledge your presence. It now occurs to me that your extended arms expected a hug from me, which I never gave you.  I have always hurt you. Please forgive me.  You have been very tolerant with my whims.  Today being a mother myself, I think I would have hit the roof had Adi done something like this to me. 
Ma, I am reliving my younger days.  The more I remember the more pain it gives me. How much did you sacrifice to see your kids smiling?  And look at what we have given you. A selfish daughter who lives far away from you with her husband and a child. And a son, who does not want to settle in India and wishes to make US his next home. Ma did you toil so hard to eventually live alone?  Your simpleton life, abundance of love and warmth for us is our good fortune.
I recall when I was in class twelve you had to attend offsite training for five days. Baba was pushing you to go, but you did not go because I had to take my board exams. I think your boss had called on the erstwhile black dial phone to convince you. You did not budge. Eventually in the April promotion list, your name was missing. But you were still not remorseful. Exactly after a month my board exam results were declared and I had scored 88%. You were jubilant and embraced me and cried along. I could not understand at that point, that why where you crying? Now, I know those were tears of joys and achievement. You were proud about my feat and celebrated by making mithai’s. Your cotton saree was drenched in sweat in the flustering heat of June, but nothing was a deterrent for you. You took a month off from office to guide me through the college admissions and getting me settled in the hostel.
Ma, I am longing to see your face. I am longing to wipe my sweat with your dupatta. I am longing to sit next to the fragrance of Ponds talcum powder. I am really missing you Ma. Last time I met you, you gave me a trunk load of your sarees. Those sarees are in the hanger in my closet. I cant wear them to college, and you may find this strange but once a week I pull a chair and sit next to the sarees; only to soak myself in your smell.
Ma, do you remember coming to my hostel once? When I saw you at the reception waiting for me, I was livid with you. I shouted at you in front of my friends and the staff for coming to my college. I immediately called up Baba and got your return tickets done for the next day.  How insensitive was I Ma? I can’t do enough penance for such an irresponsible behavior. What was I thinking - that you will take away my new found freedom?  Look at me now Ma, I have all the freedom in life. I have family, friends and a modern society but I don’t have you with me. I want to rest my head in your lap and sleep.  Ma please forgive me for my immaturity.  I was foolish enough not to understand that you had come to check on my welfare and well being. Even I would do so, when Adi grows up and starts to live alone with strangers in a hostel?
It took me twenty seven years to understand you Ma. I am very late in recognizing and appreciating your hard work in our upbringing and making us what we are. My apology is far too less in comparison to the pain that I gave you.
I don’t know if I will have the will to stay awake all though the nights like you, during Adi’s exams. I am unsure about instinctively getting up at 5 am in the morning for Adi, just like you would do for us. It’s a very rare thought that I would tip-toe like you, to Adi’s rooms and check on how well is he concentrating.
Ma when I think about me and Bubloo with you, I imagine a tigress with her timid cubs. You are the cloud that shelters us, protects us and pours us with a down pour of affection.  By saying so, I do not demean Baba’s role in our upbringing, but Ma you are the binding force. Ma, I am not a baby anymore and I know that you and Baba had decided to part ways when we were still in school. I remember Baba was travelling and you were talking to Nanima that night over the telecom and I eavesdropped. You had said, “Even if Sudhir makes a doormat out of me, I am willing to be so. My children should not suffer because of our compatibility issues. For them we have to stand together as parents. Not just mother and father”.  Ma, I did not comprehend much at that time and brushed it for some Bollywood movie dialogue.  Today my memory does not fail me and I know that this was a real life dialogue between you and Nanima. Ma, this sacrifice is not easy and it comes naturally to you. I owe you my life to you Ma.
Ma those wrinkles on your face have a bigger story to narrate. There are many more secrets hidden in them. However to me they are not the custodians of your struggled past but they are a testimony to your grit, resilience and spirit. Your care for us was not duty bound, but it was your pure love for your children. I want to run back to you and play the games we would play in the back lawn. I want to swaddle in the aroma of your kitchen and smell the distinct the whiff of the delicacies and the incense sticks. Ma please plan a visit. I want you to take some rest and give me a chance to look after you. You can come with Bubloo. I am longing to sleep next to you Ma. Even Adi points to the i-pad and drools “nani…nani” from his little pink lips.
I can’t thank God enough for giving me a mother like you, who took upon herself the pain and trudged all her life to see her kids flourish.
I am hoping to see you soon and until then look after yourself.

Love you
Mili.