My Un-Mom Ma

Indian Moms are supposed to be like this. Simple,crying,sacrificing.


But my Mom ? Well, she is like this.Classy, tough-as-nails,inspiring. ( Elizabeth Taylor is my Mom’s favorite actress)


I don’t think I am like her.But I try to be! Thank you, Ma, for teaching me  to bake the perfect cake while wearing six inch heels. For playing Frank Sinatra as my lullaby. For accepting that I don’t have a genius, scientific brain like yours ( My Mom is an electronics engineer… the first lady engineer of my state), and smiling when I read Neruda to you.For teaching me never to apologize for who I am.

This one is for you Ma.Its so you!

 “If I should have a daughter…“Instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B.” Because that way, she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I’m going to paint the solar system on the back of her hands so that she has to learn the entire universe before she can say “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.

She’s gonna learn that this life will hit you, hard, in the face, wait for you to get back up so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.

I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, ‘cause there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks chocolate can’t fix. But that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything if you let it.

I want her to see the world through the underside of a glass bottom boat, to look through a magnifying glass at the galaxies that exist on the pin point of a human mind.

I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things and always apologize when you’ve done something wrong but don’t you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining.

Your voice is small but don’t ever stop singing and when they finally hand you heartbreak, slip hatred and war under your doorstep and hand you hand-outs on street corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother” ( Sarah Kay)

 Ok, here is one of my Mom’s favorite song for you, guys 🙂

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