To the parents, With love
I had written this poem long ago. Just felt like deciphering it a bit and make a story out of it:)
My beautiful world as I remember when I toddled,
That only pampered me and mollycoddled,
Loved being carried in the warm loving arms,
That always assured me that I was in safe hands,
Never knew the worth of time they invested on me,
In looking after my every single moves so silly,
Didn’t have the slightest idea of what I might
End up eating or when would fall asleep tight.
Taught me to read, write, and talk,
Made me run, jump and walk,
Imparted their worldly knowledge to me,
Made sure I was their world, one and only.
Yes, I love being their apple of the eye, but how I wish they took me serious. I am a middle aged woman working from home. My relation with my parents has always been normal. Very normal. Extremely normal actually that it touches the borderline of being abnormal. Because every time there is a new guest in the house, the words they come up with to introduce me makes me think, why was I even alive that moment.
“You should definitely see our teddy bear, the sweet potato of our house.” Then they would call me loudly, “Pinkuuu... come and say hi to uncle.”
I know many people by the name Pinky. But what the hell was Pinku? And I am a grown up woman. Not a 15 year old to come and say hi to uncle and aunties.
Completely embarrassed, I would go and still meet them.
“Oh... you’re so big! I thought you were a school going child.” Once an uncle even said this.
But my parents were nonchalant.
The embarrassment doesn’t stop here, even when my friends come home to meet me, they would be like, “Don’t stay up late. Also don’t go to isolated places. I can come with you to that place since you haven’t been there...”
“Dad, I am going out with four of my friends.”
To this his reply would be even more savage. “All of you are kids. You guys surely need an elderly’s assistance.”
Needless to say, my friends stopped coming over to my house soon after wards.
I had lost the hope of being treated as a grown up. Since everything I did seemed like an immature job for them.
For example, if I bought vegetables, my mother would grumble, “Since you’re a child, that vegetable vendor looted you.”
“Oh yes! Looted me for 5 rupees. You are impossible, mom.”
If converted some rewards points in my debit card and bought something fancy, my dad would say, “You’re still a child. Like I used to buy you toffees to make you agree to take bath, these people are forcing you to buy these useless things by showing you the glittering rewards points.”
“Oh... hold on dad. Does this embarrassing bathing example even have a connection with the offer?”
He would stare at me momentarily. “Yes, of course! Yesteryears toffees are your present days’ rewards points.”
I felt like banging my head on the wall.
This didn’t even stop even after I got married. Whenever I used to come home after marriage, they would call me Pinku and embarrass me by giving all the details about my childhood to my husband.
“She was two months old when she pooped in her new silk dress that her grandfather had gifted her.”
“Mom, stop it.”
“That’s not all, she never liked being lifted. Would puke on her father’s shoulder ever time he lifted her and held her on his shoulders.”
I tried my best to tell them that I am grown up. And things like these embarrass me.
But I understood one very important thing. I’ll divulge that after the ending of this poem...
A few years down the lane,
They were still the same,
But grown up and matured was me,
Who disliked being the apple of the eye,
Felt their protectiveness as a bind,
Wanted to run away so they can never find,
Their embarrassing shower of love,
In front of my friends ignited the unease.
I moved along trying and ignoring
Through the age I got a family of my own.
Soon felt the precious joy of being a parent,
Loved to move in this phase of current,
Where every single day felt like heaven,
And every single night was of weariness’ haven.
Life moved on as my head sported more whites
Than greys, a mirroring glimpse of my traits,
That resembled the forgotten people from yesteryear,
Who had been there where I was now, earlier.
The realization of them being just very caring,
Struck me when I too found myself watching,
Every single step of my offspring.
So here’s to my parents, with all the love,
Hope it’s just not too late to apologize,
And regret. Please remember, I was a child then
Who grew up only after 3 decades of being a vain.
Yes. Parents are parents. You ask for water and they'll treat you with faluda:) I would understand it only after becoming a parent myself.