Like mother, like daughter…

A short story

From her choice of sarees to her cooking, there wasn’t much N appreciated about Mai.

Her mother’s natural way of being friendly with everyone and her efforts to please one and all, were traits N avoided at all costs.

Mai had patience that was so unreal that it made N almost throw up at times.

One memory of her childhood etched in N’s mind was when as a five-year-old, she had tried hard to evoke a response from her young 25-year-old mother.

Every time Mai squeezed water out of the laundry and kept it aside to dry on a cold winter afternoon, N would dip it back in the bucket of water and then giggle. Mai would look back at her, smile a little and calmly go back to squeezing out the water again.

N must have repeated her “funny” act at least ten times that day but not for once did Mai show any signs of getting perturbed.

Growing up, there were many instances when Mai could have shouted at her, stop talking to her or even hit her, but no, nothing unsettled her in the least.

Papa was always the serious kind and maintained the fine balance between family and work life. N had never seen or heard them argue loudly. Their love was exceptional, not because it lacked passion but because it was way too gentle, she believed.

One particular night, she heard some noise downstairs and was excited about the prospect of witnessing some action, finally.

But unfortunately, and to her utter embarrassment, she witnessed another kind of “action” in the dark. “Action” that not many children are keen on even thinking about when it comes to their parents.

Mai’s composure was hard to miss, especially during the toughest of times. Like when Nanu passed away or when a neighbor barged into their home to abuse and physically hurt Papa over a misunderstanding. Or when Mai’s younger sister who she was closest to, died after battling cancer for ten years.

N could never understand this calmness and what was the source of it all. She strongly believed that one must respond with passion to any kind of emotional experience, be it positive or negative. Her feminist ideals had taught her that women were conditioned by the society to act demure and timid, while suppressing their true feelings.

But Mai wasn’t any of this and yet, N had never seen her react in extremes. Did she not feel empowered enough as a homemaker to react naturally to situations? Did she train herself to just accept everything that came her way with a smile?

N never wanted to be like her mother. She had promised herself to remain the passionate girl who knew how to respond to her innermost feelings.

A violent and abusive marriage, her career as a marketing executive coming to a standstill and a 2-year-old to take care of — a lot had happened in N’s life in the last four years.

Today, as she sat on the edge of her bed, while the toddler played with her LEGO, N felt lost. Where did she go wrong? Will she ever feel like her old self again?

As her son tried to use her body to stand upright and hug her for the 20th time since morning, N gave a violent jerk and slapped her son.

The little one started crying in an instant. But instead of soothing him, N ran inside the bathroom, locked herself up and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

“Why can I not be like you Mai?”

It took her 15 more minutes to compose herself as the toddler banged on the bathroom door incessantly.

When she finally gathered the courage to come out, her little one hugged her tight, and in that moment, she decided, it was time for her to be more like her mother. It was time to find the courage to be compassionate to her son and more importantly, to herself.

For the first time, N was able to appreciate her mother’s strengths, which until now, had seemed like weaknesses to her.

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