Someone told me its Woman’s day today. Of the three hundred and sixty five days, the one day reserved for paying tribute to a being, who is positioned exactly at the centre of the axis we call life.
In contrast to many who may claim to know many women, I have known only one.
For me, woman is a moment in time.
A moment we all cherish. A moment we all wish would never pass.
From her womb to the cradle of her arms, I never felt that the world outside could be as cruel as it is. She breast-fed me, nourished and soothed my wails, before I was ready to set my foot on the earth. Dangling by her fingers, I took my first steps and I could see the worried frown of her eyebrows as I stumbled for the first time. She brought a lyrical symphony into my early life, singing hymns and nursery rhymes with the same aplomb. Somewhere during her relentless efforts to shape my future, unknown to her, she chiseled my intellectual contour. The packed Tiffin, washed and well-ironed school uniforms, the check on pencil and eraser in my geometry box, she did all with clock precision. Years passed by, and saw me expanding my horizons. She, who was the most important person in my life, accepted my need for space, without demur. College, Peer group, discos, playgrounds became my regular haunts. Yet, when she opened the doors in the evening I could still see the agony of a long wait ensconced in her beautiful eyes.
I could sense her agony, but was too naïve to acknowledge or accept. May be that is how life is destined to be. I was eager to swim across childhood and she was holding on to those moments.
Mother, is how I used to call her then.
She again came into my life as another moment. While I walked around the holy fire with her hand in mine, she was willingly tying herself to my destiny. As the nadaswarams crooned, friends and relatives showered petals on us, heralding our union. That moment, she was my demur bride. Days and years passed. She became a part of me, as I had become of hers. We shared our joys and sorrows. She labored as hard as me to supplement the family income. While in the evenings I lazed around the house, she would have assumed her mantle in the kitchen, the aroma of my favorite dish wafting through the house. At night, she would rest her head on my chest and murmur sweet nothings into my ear and I wished that the night would never end. Bathed and fresh, with vermillion prominent in her hair-parting, she would wake me up to another day with freshly brewed coffee. How could I not tell you about her gentle nudges and reprimands, and the occasional tiffs, all ending up with I realizing my folly and she hers. She was the fulcrum on which my life turned. Definitely, one of the most defining moments of my life.
They say she is my wife.
One day, she was in my lap, as a little bundle of joy weighing only 1.75 Kgs. With her tiny eyes she stared at my heavy moustaches and held on tight to my little finger. As I wrapped her in warm clothes warding of the winter blues, she smiled at me. Her smile is still lingering in my mind. I had this urge to always carry her in my arms, never to let her walk on the ground, lest she may find it uncomfortable. What is that which has endeared me so much to that moment, I wondered. As I came back from work after a hard day’s toil, a mere glimpse of her made me forget all my worries. She would then perch atop my chest, while I lay on the floor and together we would talk of fairies and elves. Occasionally, she would hug me and give a small peck on my cheeks. Never ever refusing any of her demands and for being at her beck and call, I started getting admonished for being too benevolent to her. I was her first dance partner and I never knew I was such a bad dancer until I danced with her.
She looked at me the other day and said, “I am your daughter.”
Wherever I am today, for whatever I have done and whatever I am doing, I am sure I would not be, but for the Woman, who has spread herself across each moment in my life. She did not create the moments, she was the moment itself. For me, each day is woman’s day; each moment is of the woman.
Vijay © 8th March, 2006
Word Count: 791 words
