Editor’s note : As most regular readers of the Times of Amma know, the month of May is when we celebrate our mothers with guest blogs from readers, friends and other mom bloggers on one of the most special women in their lives. Yes, here on this Mom Blog we don't just celebrate 'Mother's Day', we do a whole month of it. This May though, we focus on Mothers of a different kind - this May is about celebrating those who nurtured and nourished us without really being our mothers.
When extremely furious at us, Mummy would come up with the choicest of gaalis. As those words spewed out of her mouth, we’d be shocked... Shocked not at the words themselves, but awed by her exceptional creativity and unsurpassed imagination! Was that all extempore or had she spent countless nights in preparation?
My mom was an insomniac. So, disturbing her precious afternoon nap was perhaps us just asking for “it”! We would be bombarded with abuses left, right and centre!
After more than a decade, I was at my home at Bikaner sitting before my mother. It was the most important day for Bikaner as it was “Akhateej” and it was on this day, the foundation was laid for the city. Religiously and historically and emotionally a great day and I was eating “Bajre ki khichadi” with chilled “amlaona” juice of tamarind! A great specialty for this day. My mother’s happiness knew no bounds. She was so happy to see me before her on that particular day.
A mom is generally perceived as a person who has very soft hands (as they show in the advertisements), who is mature and understands the desires of her children without giving any indication.
Well, my mom belongs to a different cadre altogether!
My mother is a sportsperson, hailing from a village and a state shot-put champion with strong and rough hands. She is a person who gets excited when Dhoni hits a six and jumps, claps and hides herself in the kitchen during the last
It did not kill her spirit and she still greeted everyone with her sensational smile.
Inside, she was slowly building the courage to go under the laser... once again. Amma, as I call her, a likeable, sociable, home-making genius. I am sure my father would have been head over heels, when he first saw this eighteen year old beauty, a few days before their wedding. He would never concede to this however. She even had an offer to act in movies, but my grandmother would have none
As a parent you have this overwhelming sense of responsibility to teach your kids the right thing. Overnight you become this role model, this personification of virtue, put on a pedestal where you can do no wrong. I watch my words, I watch my temper, my table manners and even whether I am enforcing gender stereotypes.
However in this great effort of being a good mom, I realised I was missing out on the little things that my daughter was teaching me. There is so much that one
Unconditional, resilient, strong- traits that I see in the 3 women in my life. All my life I have seen my mum go the extra mile with my dad to ensure my happiness above all things. Much as I appreciated the efforts, what I did not fully comprehend was that your brain is constantly ticking to be one step ahead of your child, to think ahead of her needs, comfort, safety, future-until I became a mother myself. You are on the go so constantly that you have no time for yourself. W
Unconditional love |ənkənˈdiSH(ə)n(ə)l ləv| (adj,n) 1. Amumma Dear Amma, Two years ago you were wheeled into an operating room to treat an acute stomach ache. I spent my 23-hour flight to Bombay thinking of how I would sit beside you, cook for you and entertain you when you were discharged from the hospital. Just like you did for 31 years of my life. But I never did get the chance. I had never known of a life without you. The first person to hold me in the operating theater w
Defining my Amma is not at all easy for me, because she was so much a part of me.
There were no secrets between us and we kept nothing untold.
Evening tea times were the liveliest ones, when we used to sit and talk about the day’s events. All her temple acquaintances were familiar to me as my college friends and workmates were to her. Since she used to keep the family relations very much alive through phone calls and letters, I too remained well informed about my aunts an
The year 1996, I am 12 years old, living the usual fun childhood in Dubai. My parents break the news to me. We are moving to India.
Mom, me and my brother (my sister is already there in college). Dad will stay back and continue working.
I hear words like localisation, Emiritization, job risk, children’s future but my 12 year old brain doesn't make sense of it. Was I upset?
Not at all because I didn’t know the implications of such a move. Next thing I know, we are at the ai