My mom was visiting us. She’s left for Jabalpur, today. Dad had come to get her. In the last few days I hardly wrote anything. Not that I did not want to. I’m actually lagging behind in my writing. But I guess, I was a bit distracted. What with wanting to make the most (of the last few days) of mom’s stay with us.
Every year she visits us around October with dad. Dad does not extend his visits more than a week but mom, like every mother, loves to be with her children as much as possible. However, every time after a month or so she starts asking us to get her return reservation done. Looking at our over – busy lifestyle she feels it’s better to depart sooner than “imposing” herself on us.
I feel guilty, at times. I miss her loving presence around the house. In fact, I miss both my parents. They have such a calming and cheerful effect on us. However, I must admit that I can hardly concentrate on my writing when they are here. Although Dad-- himself a great thinker and writer-- is disciplined and understands and excuses me my missing out on the daily dose of ‘let’s – all – sit – together – and – yap’ time; mom is a different case altogether. She cannot stay quiet or alone for long. When she’s here she wants me to leave everything and be her constant companion. Take her out. Do fun things with her. It’s not an easy situation. Even after communicating my need to be alone to focus on my writing she drops into the study even before the first hour has passed and tries to strike up a conversation. Well, you can understand what a tug of war it is to get her around to see things from my perspective and balance my time between her and my writing. Needless to say, mostly I give in to her wishes although it leaves me feeling slightly peeved.
Mom understands my restlessness but she cannot help her own nature. Hers was a big family. And even after her marriage to dad, like any other army wife, she too remained busy with some or the other activities besides taking care of my brother and me. Besides, all through her life, she’s been surrounded with her family and friends. To be all by herself is not her idea of a home. Her home is where the action is.
Our house is back to its old routine. Everyone’s busy with something. So am I. In fact, I'm raring to go. Still somewhere inside I feel melancholic; knowing tomorrow morning mom won’t be there to pull me up from the 'lonesome chair ' into the warmth of her arms and smilingly say – thodi - thodi chai ho jai?!