Most of the kids of our generation find it hard to have a close relation with their parents. While on the other hand most of us are close to our mom and fear our father. My father always had a different relation with me. He has always been my supporter, an encouragement, a role model and yet a best friend. While on the other hand, I never really understood a lot of my mom and her choices and ways to pretend herself.
It was a summer vacation I remember, that had changed my entire perspective towards her.
It was the first time, I had to leave my dad and spend all my vacations back in my home country with my mother. I feared I was going to survive hell, and I was certainly not happy about it. The day we had to leave to the airport, I remember how I hugged my dad and cried. To console me, my dad gave me 100 SR. Yeah to a little kid, 100 SR meant so much more than just money. I surely was happy of how my dad trusted me with everything, to which my mom never expressed she did too.
As soon as our plane landed and we walked out of the airport, my first sight reached my grandpa and I couldn’t resist but to run towards him. I hugged him and I was cherished by all the other family members. Being a little one was so much fun.
Days went by and I did not really miss my dad as I was always busy enjoying with my cousins and busy being loved by all the elders at home. And then came the day we little eagerly waited for Eid.
Belonging to a desi family, Eid, for us kids meant the “day we get rich”. As we would all get money from our elders just as a sign of love and affection which we called Eidi.
Something i was not aware of at that time, was the ritual created by our mothers known as “you give me your Eidi as I will take care of it”. Evil I thought at first, but my mother consoled me that she wasn’t that evil so she would just demand me half of the amount I get from any elder. At first I was satisfied and I kept on going with the flow until my aunt (my dad’s sister) came into the room and handed me good amount of 270 Rupees. As she handed me the money, my mother stepped inside and they both started a little chat while I tried to hide the money from her.
As soon as my aunt left the room, my mother on her peak voice of faked kindness demanded me to give her half the amount and I handed a 20 rupee note.
“What? Just 20?” she said in a doubtful verge.
“how much did she give you?” she asked
“she gave me 20 and I have handed it all to you”
“oh, so mean of her. I gave her kids 150 each and she handed you just 20 ?! oh poor kid keep this to yourself”
And she left the room.
I was extremely happy, I had saved my self all the money, and an awakening incident as well.
3 days later, I was enjoying with my grand mom and my mother came there and started whining about how my aunt has given me just 20 Rupees. My grand mom got well angry about it and asked me if my mother was right. I lied again and replied that yes, she was.
My grand mom screamed out lout calling my aunt by her name, my aunt came running out of the kitchen furious about what had happened. As she got blamed for the accuse I had put upon her, she asked me angrily in front of everyone of how much she had given me. And I couldn’t resist lying anymore so I spoke out the truth and as soon as I did, I had to take my run straight out of the house as both the ladies had turned into the monsters, being a kid I used to fear.
That run, I learned lying was never going to benefit me.
A few days after that incident, I was out with my mom shopping on the streets when my mom handed me some money to give out to the beggars.
I happily did as she said but as I stared at the money she gave me, something similar stroke me.
I was fond of the “Ω” sign and as being an elder brother, I remember how my little brother used to steal my money saying it was his legal right, and to catch him red handed I would always use that sign(Ω) on my notes of money, labeling them as mine.
That day what stroke me similar was that sign (Ω) on the note. Every time my mother would hand me money for the beggars, I would realize it’s the same money which she had taken from me on Eid.
All this time I would think of my mother as an evil person, but later I just realise that she had been doing it all for me. My good deed count and my good characters.
The point of all this narration is just to let you all know, I realized her love in an innocent age, while most of us till date do not see how our parents decide our betterment and how they love us but just don’t express.
They’re not evil. They just express it in ways we fail to understand, and they never justify.
“There’s a whole lot of story behind the dull cover of the book, one page at a time, a moral to all of them will shine”