Recently I went to a wedding, an Indian wedding. The groom came on a white mare with a Baraat. He was dressed in a dazzling Achkan; and wore a Pagdi, having a brooch in the middle. The bride was dressed in red, with shimmers and stars attached to the length. Their families wore glitters; the celebrations were huge. Weddings are special, they bond families together. They shower love, let us trust and spread utmost happiness.
So, the bride and the groom entered the open lawn during the Kanya Aagaman; tears rolled down the cheeks of bride’s mother; as she saw the bride and the groom coming with held hands
It took sometime, about 8 hours of long labour; and 2 hours of consistent pushing. But I finally came out crying.
I don’t remember anything of that time, but while going through my childhood pictures, she told me the story of how we first met.
I was 2 kg, timid little girl with pink flesh and tiny hands held in her arms with her soft eyes gleaming at me. She couldn’t stop smiling, “I love you my baby girl, forever and always“, that’s what she told me. Tears rolled down her cheeks as we both sat down looking at the images, I knew she would take a bullet for me, and I would do the same for her.
To all the mothers, whose selfless love is beyond this universe, who scold but care, who slap but spare, thank you for teaching me the meaning of life, being there for me, waking up till 2 AM, making me coffee during my exams.
You are our Superwomen, and we adore you for your sacrifices and unconditional love.
PS: I am dying to listen to your stories with your loved ones. Please share your special memory with your mother in the comments below.