I have come to my hometown for a week or so for the occasion of Diwali, and, it is heartbreaking to see my Mom like this.
Like what, you may want to ask.
Age is getting the better of her, and over time, she is able to do less work. Which is fine. What is not fine is she still chooses to do so much work, not get a house help to help with tiny things, and most importantly, does most of her work before breakfast.
Which means she is not nourished, and taking on the household chores still like a teenager’s energy. Having late breakfast is disastrous for everyone, but at that age, you must not get so late at any cost.
She has gone through all sorts of worst things that happened after marriage in the late 70s, and I understand I can never understand what she went through. But what is forcing her to stay in that habit, other than her habits? There is no mother-in-law for the last 40 years to poke at her.
And that, has caused me to miss my Mom. What I mean is, when she was fit and fine, she would daily walk into my room and ask me to get things in order. Or she would occasionally crack a joke or two with me here and there. Or she would tell me to put my clothes in the washer. Or she would at least try to make the home a happy place. Now, unfortunately, she is cranky all of the time, angry all of the time, and it only breaks my heart.
Yesterday was the “बड़ पूजा” in Sindhis, which happens on the Day 2 of Diwali. She was tired, so we decided that she would not give the usual entire lunch to a far off relative, like she does every year. Except, when I woke up, I realised she had given them the food.
The point is not about not giving, but I myself get tired when I cook for my parents too and not just one person (me), so she is so much older!
The bigger point is also I like aloo too, with the green saag and rice she had made. But because she wanted to make sure “others do not think bad of her that she did not give food”, I did not get to eat aloo made by my Mom.
Life is so much about trade-offs, yet each time a parent chooses “what would others say” over “let me draw some boundaries so that I could be present for my kids”, the kids die tiny deaths, one at a time.

