The whole world is abuzz. The clock seems to be ticking faster than ever. The advancement in technology has, however been gravely unsuccessful in solving the inadequate 24 hours a day crisis. This bulging growth and advancement has left man with an insatiable thirst for acquiring some invisible, worthless matter. Fast food, fast life, high blood pressure, increased pollution of every kind has replaced mother’s food (with extra ounces of love and affection), healthy living, grandma’s stories and outings with grandpa. I have witnessed this bizarre transition from a life filled with love to a life equipped with gizmos and surprisingly prefer to live amidst people who love and care rather than amidst hi-fi gadgets.( I have tried my best to refrain from expressing my transcendental views, however off late I feel love is spiritual and am a little inclined towards spirituality.)
A warm touch, a little peck on the cheek, a word of solace, a shoulder to lean on or a lap to accommodate an ailing mind could be a more powerful medicine for a disease as acute as asthma. The last night’s incident invoked in me the essence of loving, to be more specific being loved.
At around mid night, I jerked out of my sleep and could almost feel the dropping heart rate. I could feel my lungs heating up due to inadequate dosage of oxygen in every breath. The inhaler, which plays the savior, was empty. The door to my parents’ room was ajar. I peeked in, only to find them absorbed in deep sleep. Not intending to disturb them, I retreated and tried to ignore the situation. I dropped into my bed, hoping to sleep. After hours of continued trouble, I felt I was drifting back and forth from consciousness. Unable to bare the fear of death, I woke my mom up around 3 in the night. She very patiently came up to me, sat beside my bed, laid my head on her lap, ran her fingers through my hair, taught me how to inhale and exhale (like a mother bird teaches her young ones the vital necessities) and the next thing I knew, I was alive. It was early morning, sunlight streaking my room and my mother asleep on the couch in my room. She had nursed me with all the love and affection, protected her little girl from perhaps a lethal asthma attack and in a very complex way, saved my life.
This episode however opened new insights. Yet again, love proved itself as the most outstanding healer. My falling belief about love being a weakling in the tech world has been crushed. After all, miracles do happen if you believe in love :)
A warm touch, a little peck on the cheek, a word of solace, a shoulder to lean on or a lap to accommodate an ailing mind could be a more powerful medicine for a disease as acute as asthma. The last night’s incident invoked in me the essence of loving, to be more specific being loved.
At around mid night, I jerked out of my sleep and could almost feel the dropping heart rate. I could feel my lungs heating up due to inadequate dosage of oxygen in every breath. The inhaler, which plays the savior, was empty. The door to my parents’ room was ajar. I peeked in, only to find them absorbed in deep sleep. Not intending to disturb them, I retreated and tried to ignore the situation. I dropped into my bed, hoping to sleep. After hours of continued trouble, I felt I was drifting back and forth from consciousness. Unable to bare the fear of death, I woke my mom up around 3 in the night. She very patiently came up to me, sat beside my bed, laid my head on her lap, ran her fingers through my hair, taught me how to inhale and exhale (like a mother bird teaches her young ones the vital necessities) and the next thing I knew, I was alive. It was early morning, sunlight streaking my room and my mother asleep on the couch in my room. She had nursed me with all the love and affection, protected her little girl from perhaps a lethal asthma attack and in a very complex way, saved my life.
This episode however opened new insights. Yet again, love proved itself as the most outstanding healer. My falling belief about love being a weakling in the tech world has been crushed. After all, miracles do happen if you believe in love :)
8 comments:
a Wonderful Tribute of a lovely Daughter to a real Mother
totally agree with suju..
n there's loads more people out there waitin for miracles to happen, but they just dont seem to get their chance. So many NGOs playin mothers, are tryin to help, n yet still somehow there's many more left waitin..
ok, this is movin a lil bit off the track here.. anyway, great writing as always.. my praises to the author
NO matter how much of a grwn up u r, u always want tat person called amma 2 always b next to u...
a delightful thought expressed in a heart touchin way by teju....
ts so beautiful... i mean mothers do so much to us..n v jus take them for granted..v snap at dem...fight..never realising the worth..n never once letting them kno how much v luv dem!!
shud do t atleast now..
once again beautifully expressed......
awww its such a good post teju....just loved it...its damn touching:)
wow! too good yaar.... awesome! felt more close to my mom aftr reading it... ;)
wow tej...!!
you really love your mom..!!!
awesomely put...!! :)
You know,I was around 7 years of age when something similar happened to me.Except it was no ordinary case of wheezing(which is what I suffer from..or used to suffer from).My mom always told me that I was plagued with the illness because when she was pregnant,her in-laws and some other discourteous,inhuman relatives(whom I no longer accept as family) compelled her to mop the floor and wash clothes,whatnot and this kind of was responsible for the illness.Although it's quite obvious now that I inherited it hereditarily because my gf(grandfather of course!) had it too.
That aside,now while I did suffer from the acute illness(back when I was 7) I developed strange symptoms alongside the usual ones..I vomited anything I ate or drank and other behind the scenes-issues(If you know what I mean..).My mom tended to me day in and day out but things didn't seem to work.I was advocated homeopathic medication back then with my mother unwilling to switch to English medicine in such dire straits.My dad was extremely hard-working man,we weren't as financially equipped as we are now..life wasn't easy.But he did something which is most touching to me..He brought a pair of sunglasses(my whim then) despite his busy schedule and depsite other difficulties.I owe him a lot.. and I did indeed recover.If there was something which triggered the recovery I think it must be that.But all the credit must go to my mom because it was her patience,endurance I might say which pulled me through.I remember her weeping over my unstable state.. I think I didn't want her to cry,I think that somehow instilled some determination or strength or whatever!,that did indeed pull me through..
Few years on my illness persisted but not on fatal lines,at least,thankfully.After a brief period of complete absence,the tides changed and it hit with all its might.I think this time I was in class 7.A lot of phlegm emanated and accumulated in the wind pipe through out the day,be it in school or at home.One time I covered half of the class with my mucous(stored in my mouth) as I sneezed while trying to dispose of it at the end of the class :D.I was restricted to go about any physical activity..I couldn't play,couldn't run,couldn't eat ice-cream,couldn't consume fried food,I couldn't laugh!.And being the notorious,cheerful kid that I was,I couldn't bear with all of this.Those endless nights tormented by the inability to breathe made me more and more sullen and sulked.But it was my mom again who inspired me to be stronger,defeat the illness with sheer will power,which I did despite setbacks,with time..She enrolled me in tt training,reluctantly cricket too.With time I did reign supreme over my weakness.
Today I'm in my last teen year,strong as an ox.I was the first year football captain in NITK.I hope to continue the trend as a sophomore.I eat ice-cream everyday!.But as they say-"love ends" and I seem to forgetting the debt I owe my parents by becoming a more agitated,solitary,short-fused fool!.I've lost all beliefs in the word love or anything to do with it(with a few exceptions of course).I often wonder if it is ego taking over me or my marred past that shrouds me from the rest of the society just the realization of the non-existence of real love and the fact that everything,the most subtle,is a fucking manipulatory pretense!
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