Symmetry

 

Rewatching the shows you used to watch as a teenager almost two decades later can sometimes be quite underwhelming. Few weeks back, I randomly came across a video review of Phil of the Future, one of my regular watches during my Disney phase in the mid 00s. And good lord, it was definitely much nuttier than I remember.

It is quite noteworthy that my mother tolerated me watching such stuff all the time. Regardless of what people might think now, I was very much considered a problem child by most of the extended family. My marks were often in the average to below average range and every Tom, Dick and Harry believed I watched too much TV. Or perhaps the bigger problem was that I rarely used to watch things other people would consider watching. To watch anything that wasn’t in Malayalam was considered downright sinful by a few. 

To Be Understood

Back in school days, I was a very restrictive person. If there was some event I didn’t feel like attending or some show that I didn’t want to watch, I wouldn’t do it. It was as simple as that. It was initially born out of stubbornness which later became solidified by an introvert nature cultured by not really fitting in at school.

It probably also didn’t help that I was pretty much grew up alone (other than the maid) for a few years between 4-8 years as both parents were away for significant periods of time for different reasons. So, I ended up liking things I found on my own as I wasn’t really nudged towards anything in particular by parental influence.

The only person who really tried to understand me during my childhood after that was my mother and sadly, it is only now that I truly recognize how much of an effort she put in this regard. Whether it be all the sports I used to watch or the garbage Disney shows, she would often give some company instead of trying to change me into something I wasn’t.

It wasn’t just this though. She was the only one who understood the subtle changes in my mood. She’d know when I had a bad day even if I hadn’t said a word. She offered guidance as well as justified criticism whenever I needed it.

I never had such an emotional bond with my father growing up and I guess there were multiple reasons for that. He was not an emotional person for starters and whatever he was feeling, he often kept to himself. It also didn’t help that we didn’t have much in common and he was AWOL for a lot of my childhood.

This made him seem unemotional but it was only after a few years that I understood that he did care a lot, he just didn’t show it that much externally. For example, I once went on a schooltrip to Kodaikanal for 3 days and my father was worried sick the entire time. I only learnt of this years later when my mother told me. I guess I inherited this trait considering I’ve had my fair share of failed relationships due to my inability to show how much I really care.

But at the end of the day, there is no real question that I am my mother’s work. Whatever good qualities you think I have, it’s mainly because of her parenting.

Blending In

College changes most of us in one or another. It forces us to mingle and begin to understand people from different backgrounds, with different perspectives and beliefs. It was at college that I started to begin blending in with my peers.

It wasn’t an instantaneous process of course but slowly by slowly, year by year, I kinda became like everyone else. And once you start working, your entire world pretty much starts revolving around that and most conversations with colleagues tend to centre around what's happening at work. So it isn’t really that difficult to fit in. In the hospital, it really doesn’t matter what shows you watch or what music you listen to. It only matters how dedicated you are and how good you are at what you do.

But every once in a while, on the loneliest of nights, you wonder what it feels like to be understood again. Not for what you do or the trauma you’ve been through but for the actual person inside that seems to have disappeared long back. 

A Mother’s Work

My mother always used to be the first one to wish me happy birthday in my childhood (my father would often forget the date). Now, every birthday feels hollow and empty without her.

My life has mirrored hers in a lot of ways. Her father passed away from cancer (a family curse I’m probably going to inherit) when she was in 10^th standard, something she never ever got over. She was a career-oriented person who didn’t get married until she was about to turn 30, which is pretty cool considering how much people even now struggle to manage something like that. She had to fight and claw for everything she earned in life.

At the same time, sadly, I can’t really say she was ever happy post marriage. It was a loveless marriage from the very start and she didn’t have many close friends post college. The only person keeping this dysfunctional family was me and I was the only thing that gave her any kind of happiness in all the time I knew her and this fact breaks my heart so much because I was never the type of son that she deserved.

Because like my father, I too often appeared emotionally distant. I never expressed how much I really cared. Even through cancer, I was just a moody 16 year old brat. I didn’t put in even 10% of the effort I gave when my father got his stroke. I just wasn’t mature enough as a person back then.

She never said this of course. She was always a warrior through cancer, never once showing any signs of weakness or defeat even on the darkest of days. Perhaps that was why the idiotic teenage version of myself never believed she would be gone forever.

My mother is gone forever now. And everything is much worse because of it.

Symmetry

A few months before she passed and shortly after she relapsed, my mother told me about a dream that she had. She saw her parents, specifically her father, calling out for her from the beyond. She never ever got over their deaths even after all those years.

And now, I am a man who is never going to get over the death of his parents. The symmetry is fate. There are precious few people in life who will love you wholly and completely for who you are. They can never be replaced and their loss can never be “gotten over”.

Years from now, when I am at the end of my days, I wonder if they will be there to call me over too. I pray I never get so old as to forget the sacrifices they made so that I never had to face the struggles they did.