Back in my school days, I had
somehow developed a habit of comparing my mom with my English teacher. I was
completely fascinated by her oration, her interpretation of the Wordsworths and
the Tennysons, her authority, personality and everything that I could notice
about her. Deep down in my childish self
rose the question, “Why isn’t my mom like her?” I would want her to speak English
with the same proficiency as would my English teacher; I would want her to speak
to my friends with the same effect as did the English teacher in class. But
nothing ever happened the way I wanted them to be and this habit, instead of
fading into irrelevance with the passage of time became an obsession. I found
myself comparing her with the new lecturer of my college. So one semester, I returned home and found
myself asking my mom, “If they are so knowledgeable, if they are so good in
English why aren’t you?” To this, my mom did not answer, but gave me just a
smile before she turned back to the kitchen. I felt humiliated for asking such
an annoying question to my mother. However, the semester vacation went by and I
returned to college, forgetting all about the incident.
I completed my graduation and
went on to pursue my masters. There too, I came across a professor who happened
to be of the same age as my mom and highly impressive. In her class, when I
observed her more closely, I wished only if my mother could have been more like
her. By then, this wish had started bothering me so much that I grew increasingly uneasy of
my mother’s identity.
If you like the article, let me know about the composition, style of narration and last but not the least....don't forget to say your MOM how much you love her!
-Arindam Paul