A second Childhood

Some years back mom had fractured her arm and to make things worse, her live-in maid had gone to her village for a vacation. Thus, unable to manage on her own she reluctantly came to stay with me. I was working from home during that time and had only a computer paper to write for, leaving me with a lot of spare time to spend with her. We often went out for evening walks though she hadn't recovered completely. This piece I wrote after one of my usual evening trips with her to the neighbourhood park.

A second childhood

Walking along with mom in the park the other day, I was suddenly reminded of my childhood. Often, mom took me to the Children’s Park and stood around while I played with other kids my age.

Interestingly, after so many years we were together once again however, now our roles had been reversed.

“Mom why don’t you sit on the bench and rest a little”, I said. “Who said I am tired. When I was younger I was on my feet from six in the morning. We knew how to use our hands and keep active. We didn’t need a gym to burn calories”, she retorted.

Of course, she was rebelling the same way I did at the age of five. It was a hard task for mom to stop me from going wild. By evening most days my legs would hurt and somehow I knew, that by the end of the day, I would have a similar situation on hand.

That night, when mom got into bed, I quietly slipped in a heating pad. She looked relieved and did not protest. I remember, years back her handing me a glass of chocolate milk and saying, “Kids who drink milk at night have strong bones and can play longer in the park.”

During my school days, breakfast had always been an ordeal. I often tried to step out quietly, leaving half-finished food on the table. Unfortunately, I always got caught. For, mom would scream from somewhere in the house, “Eat the porridge and finish the egg”. It was as if, she had X-ray vision.

Now, it is my turn to coax her to eat her meals properly. “Mom, try out this. It will not be heavy. I will only serve a small portion”, I hear myself say, at meal times. Some days she obliges and other times, no one can reason out with her. “Don’t pile my plate. I know what I should eat. You know my stomach is sensitive. Look at my age and leave me alone,” she snubs me outright.

Off late, mom’s obsession with her live-in maid, Santosh brings back my daughter, Shubhi’s childhood. The little one was so crazy about her maid, Izabella, that when she went home once a year Shubhi scribbled letters to her.

Twenty-two year old Santosh, has become my mom’s constant companion. Santosh, a rare human being takes care of her day-to-day needs. I often see her in the afternoons, huddled with mom, with lots of wool and knitting needles. Only during these brief sessions I see mom assuming the role of an instructor and I see a hint of her old self in her.

My niece, Pallavi recently sounded a bit disturbed. “Mausi, nani keeps misplacing her things. She needs a search party all the time.”

Deep down I know something has changed in our lives forever. It is not easy to watch mom grow old. However, trying to calm down Pallavi, I said, “Enjoy her the way she is. You saw her commanding, organising and taking care of the family. Now it is her turn to take it easy. Let her enjoy her second childhood.”