I Owe Her Everything

I have never tried estimating the very feeling, my mother must be getting during delivering the most beautiful thing she carried for nine months, in fact within her soul. My mother has repetitively telling me about I not being able to understand her feelings of concern and care. Beyond her spontaneous pains and long sleepless nights, her physical wounds are healed, but her emotional wound of being mother is still raw enough and will always be vulnerable.
She is a typical woman loving her husband and children beyond anything else, though she is a primary teacher. She is a modern day woman, but when it comes to her kids, she is more contemporary than anything, she will read newspaper, but cases are rare when she doesn't worry about her children by seeing any accident or fire! She might murmur to herself, "what if that was my child?" and I guess this thought process of typical mothers make them caring for others too. No road accidents, no plane crash, no fire will spare her from haunting, what can be more worse than watching her own child dying in front.
No matter how much my mom has turned sophisticated, she turns to her primitive levels when it comes to me and my brother. I have seen her sacrificing her lovable belongings without any hesitation, the only thing we need is to call her "mom" from any corner of the world. No matter how manyyears she has invested in her career, she derailed professionally for her motherhood. However decisive she is in her school, she constantly second guesses herself as a mother. The cesarean scar was never something ugly for her, in fact the shiny stretch marks were badges of pride.
I would always feel the exhilaration when I ride my bike but at the same point would see my mother's face full of weird thoughts. She must have fallen in love with the changed man, my father, all over again, this time for being unromantic though. She might then be feeling like loving that man more, who carefully powders the baby and never hesitates to play and talk with his child. She gained several pounds and ruined her figure after me, but she is always quite concern about her girl's figure. This might be the smallest version of her care, the one with the larger dimension is that she wishes few more years to Lord, not for her, but to see her child accomplishing their dreams.
Amity in teenage, harshness in childhood and naturing in all ages, I have seen her changing herself for me. Brilliance and grace of her love cannot be estimated. I remember my every cry when she shouted at me; my every meal, she cooked with dedication; my every gift, she bought when I wanted it badly; my cherished memories, where she has a lion share. She has never given me anything which I don't deserve.
I have penned this not for others, but for HER. Mhantat na "Swami tinahi jagacha aai vina bhikaari".

Beauty doesnot comprise Complexion

There are many things to learn, it's just that we refrain from doing them. It took me almost two decades to come out of the complex, I faced for being black. Yes, I am black. Black is suppose to be the colour of "SIN", in fact, black is the colour which have been carrying both sides, good as well as bad. Black may be the colour of evilness, but the blacks are not evils. I do remember every comment on me for me being black. I have lost many finer things in life. It felt like indefatigable thoughts resonating in my mind when I almost decided to suicide. Being black, I have tolerated nonsense comments by guys in my very tender age when every other girl aspires for praises of her beauty. My black complexion became integral part of my persona, it was inseparable then. I was never considered to be beautiful and the reason was always clearly stated, that I am black. It is till now we use various phrases and words like "blacklist, blackmail, black comedy, black mood, black hearted, black magic etc." describing unloving and undesirable things. Is this achromatic, hueless colour so disliked by people?
My parents and friends have been washing my brains over this topic since years, they have often gave me examples like Bipasha Basu, Helle Berry, Will Smith, Obama, Prabhu Deva, Remo, Tyra Banks and many others. But its tough to keep your foot in my shoe. "Colour matters". Many things in life had made me believe this very fact. I was called UGLY; I still control my tears when I listen to the story of "Ugly duckling". I have wasted my nights weeping over it. I have wasted all those sweeter moments I would enjoy rather. I have lost those attentions. People who are fair are given the preference, and no further research on this is needed. I am experiencing it daily. These vociferous thoughts indeed have eaten up my confidence and childhood. Life is quite beautiful and we have really less time to live to its fullest, this might sound a movie dialogue, but its true. These racial difference have thrown me away from the very world in my imagination, I forgot to smile, I forgot the ambrosia, I forgot that tickling , I forgot those melodious cavatina, I forgot those luminaries twinkling in sky, I forgot that chrome variegations, I forgot to love, I forgot to live, as if I was punished for this swarthiness. This imperceptionability of mass threw me in sudden depression for many years. I started hating myself, I never saw myself in mirror for hours, I never came in any photograph.
Beauty lies in the eyes of beholder; it took long time for me to digest this. I get immune then. My wisdom became my beauty, my cogitations gave me strength, and my noetic and rational approach is my pride. The compliments I got never bothered me first, but sooner when I got exposure to this world, I realised fair people cry for them, I was described as "girl with great personality", "girl with appealing voice", "girl with a great charm", "girl with lots of witty stuff", "a great conversationalist", "voluptuous" and many more. I observed the vigour, the utterance of soul, the elegance and lucidity of my thoughts and then I defined my own way.
Soon I realised that no dictionary in this world gives "swarthiness" as a synonym of "ugliness". It's just some contemporary and not justified belief. It's my loquacity and conation which attract people. Then I believed Life is to venerate. Live it. Love it.