The trail

Things which remind me of my mom are everywhere. Like markers. Like the trail of light that emanates from a lighthouse. The smell of bread, a mashed potato sandwich, every feminist I meet but also every person who has been extorted for dowry, the marketplace she visited for years, every cactus plant (the earliest plant we had was cactus), temples…

As a child, she pushed me to learn to skate, cycle, swim. I wouldn’t have bothered on my own. So in every new skill I learn it’s her that I can visualise. She learned so many things even while juggling a house and often being the only parent around when dad went away for months at a time for work. Embroidery, shorthand, typing, teaching kids, beauty parlour courses – she did it all. She just wanted to learn.

Along the way she evolved her own brand of things. She didn’t learn to cook from her mom so she cooked from her own techniques, strange experiments at times which can sadly not be recreated and something I miss so much. She kept house in her own way unlike most other housewives of the time, chose to live life as she wanted for the most part. She deserved much better, a more modern era to live in, a time when people’s viewpoints are broader, liberal people around her. 


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