Premier Amour :-)

Ever been through old photographs from school and realized there are those few memories from all those years ago, which never fade? Those people, whose names you can never forget? No, I don’t just mean your best friends or your favorite teacher. I mean that quirky kid you didn’t want to talk to, that teacher who scared the daylights out of you, that extremely nice corn seller outside school, or…your first crush? Ever sat there, recollecting all those times you encountered with him/her in school or the neighborhood, and just smiled about how silly you used to be?

And that was precisely what she was doing – looking at an old, faded class photo and smiling. She could barely recognize the faces, but there she was - sitting in the front row, timid and bashful while he was at the back, standing tall and handsome. Exactly how she remembers him.

Hers was a typical school-crush tale. He was popular, played sport for the school; nearly every girl longed to talk to him. And she was just another teen, well in danger of being classified as a nerd. Why would he ever want to come up to talk to her? But he did talk to her – once. And she could never forget that day, when he first came up and spoke to her. “You think you can help me with this problem?” he asked.

She looked up, rather startled, trying not to blush. She forced herself to look into the depths of his warm eyes. His acute charm dazed her, caught her off guard. “Here,” He continued as he squeezed himself into the tiny space between her desk and the one next to it. He slid his notebook on the table. “It doesn’t make sense at all. How are we supposed to arrive at this conclusion?” He moved behind her, his lean shadow folding over her skin and onto the book.

“Let me see…” She studied her notebook and his, absurdly conscious of the inches between them. She could barely breathe from the sheer pulchritude of it all. “Well, you have the formula copied wrong here. That’s the only mistake I can see.” She tried not to smile, or blush. Her heart, so susceptible those days, threatened to explode. The intoxicating nearness of him sped up her pulse, bowled her over. The space between them was uncomfortably close, yet pleasantly welcoming.

“Oh yeahhh! You’re right. Ha-ha, stupid me!” He said as he laughed softly, unaware of the chaos that small sound had unleashed inside her chest. A few endless seconds slipped past. Her blood surged in her ears. She wondered if he knew what was happening, had any idea what his presence inflicted upon her. She held her breath. Closed her eyes. Briefly. For that period, at least, the moment was suspended - it’s shivering exquisiteness, for that moment, laid there untouched.

And then, a sign. The bell rang, and class was over. When she looked up, the boy was gone. She was back in her attic, her old photo album still intact on her lap. She shook her head, laughed it off and continued with her chores. She probably wasn’t going to remember him again until she pulls up that old photograph another time. The exercise was over.

Maa

It’s that day – the day when you recall that beautiful woman who is loving, optimistic, supportive, fun and complicated all at the same time. Yeah, that’s right – it’s mother’s day. As the day rolls in sync with the waning of the April rains and an outburst of colorful blooms, it seems right that Mother's Day should be consonant with the fullness of spring. There is hardly a more vital time of year, a time of greater exuberance. And everyone knows that. Mothers are beautiful and comforting. Young or old, they always bring joy, warmth and sunshine into your life.

Next to romance, I think the subject of motherhood stirs up more emotion than any other in existence. Statesmen give their mothers credit for the fine people they have become, especially during political campaigns and sailors tattoo the word on their biceps. Not surprising at all, since mothers are freaking amazing. Civilization would have died out rather too quickly without them. Adam certainly couldn’t have done it alone, even though he was quick to blame the woman.

Mothers – god’s best creation yet.

My Mother. Gosh, I can write several books about her. Although she appears to be a typical housewife of her generation, I know she is anything but typical. For having turned a mom at a rather young age, it’s incredible how she dealt with motherhood and responsibilities with such maturity. It makes me think back in amazement at what my mom might have done had she had the time to pursue her dreams — the way she encourages me to pursue mine, even when they meant I’d be very far away in a crazy place and our only communications would be through phones. It’s so easy to overlook — your mom had dreams too you know.

My mom has left countless indelible marks on me. She has inspired me to be everything I am today. One of her marks was independence. She encouraged me to be on my own, do my own stuff. She taught me to look up to people for inspiration, but to never reply on them. She raised me to be self reliant and she had just one thing to say: “there might be a day when you have to take the road less travelled. And it wouldn’t matter if you’re independent, because you wouldn’t ever have to feel helpless.”

Another one of my mom’s big influence on me is optimism. I don’t recall her being cynical ever. Every time life knocked her down, she got up, laughed it off and kept on marching forward. A quality I love in her, but one that I’m yet to inherit completely. I’ve learned to laugh it off, but I’m yet to march forward. She is the only person to tell me it’s great to be short. Because when you’re short, you can only see the part of the glass that’s half full. That made me smile. A lot. My mom always has ways to make me smile, feel great, look forward to good times.

I’ve always associated my mom with happiness and pleasure. Talking to her seems to get me relaxed. Sometimes, I say, Mother and daughter? Nah, we’re more like best friends. Perhaps it’s because she’s pretty young for a mom. Or perhaps it’s just because she’s so super cool. Or maybe it’s both. And more than anything, she is the one person in the whole, wide world I can always come back to. No matter what I’ve done. I love you Maa. Thanks for everything you’ve ever given me. Thanks, for just being there.

Today isn’t just another day where the greeting card industry goes into overdrive or the florists get extremely busy. It isn’t the annual grumbling about another holiday with gift sales. It’s a true sentiment. You have to wonder what the women who gave birth to us make of us all; so worldly, so responsible, so far down the road from the children we once were. So if you’ve taken time to read this post today, do take the time to get those phone lines and wireless connections jammed with filial good wishes, calls placed for the sole purpose of hearing the most familiar voice in the world on the other end of the line. Or if you're at home with her, give her a tight hug and let her know how special she is.

After all, home is where mom is. Happy Mother’s day Maa.