Mom

My mom is the greatest teacher in the whole world, not because she faces a classroom of 40 sleep-deprived-unwashed students 5 days a week but because what I have learnt from her was not taught to me. I have learnt to live and learn from her. I have learnt to never lose heart. Mother is the ubiquitous axiom in everyone’s life(everyone my age) who knows where to find you when you can’t find yourself, who gives you courage, who tells you that you can, who introduces you to the business of life without being businesslike herself, who always has a story to tell, who is the other in you. My mother actually believes that there is a solution to the problem called
Me- my indecisiveness, my-Einstein-fickle-mindedness (which-believe-you-me-does-not-suit-me-specially-without-the-einstein-brain) besides other things and she tells me so without being taut. I hope that I can give her credit for this. I feel blessed. My blessing is my mother. I have not done anything great in these 15 years and when I read about endless poverty and hunger, deep down I feel guilty. My gain is someone’s loss and of course there is the theory of natural selection and Herbert spencer’s wretched ‘survival of the fittest.’ I read about mothers ending their lives-a harrowing act of terminal despair. It is then that I feel that I must make her proud. She deserves it after all.