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Striking a chord in a highly discordant atmosphere - Part 2

Mother,
Whatever I say or write about you, it will be never enough. Still on this special day when universe is celebrating about motherhood, I would like to pen my thoughts. And to note, I have only picked the fragmented thoughts of all the children who are staying seperately from their parents in the home land or far-off lands, and gave voice and light to those thoughts through my words. I am sure everyone's thought echoes the same feeling as mine. This is one of the loaves that I am offering as a slice and I am sure there are multiple loaves flavored with different forms of the same emotion spread across the world, waiting to be baked and offered to all the mothers around the world.

In the middle of this prolonged period of uncertainty, when I cannot see you or be physically present, I don't feel any lack of your presence. It is like you are present in my implicit memory and subconscious, and whatever I do, I just carry you in it and execute. Every time I pound that garlic and slit that chilly, or extract that tamarind juice for the rasam that I intend to make, my thoughts travel to your kitchen and think if this is how you used to make. How much chilly powder do you add in this curry? How much jaggery to be added to the bitter guard to get the taste similar to yours? All these thoughts travel breaking the barricades and checkpoints that are imposed in this lockdown, free from the confines of our open prison.

Every time I get confused with the overwhelming information of the recipe cards that I flip through, your number comes to my mind and I quickly close all those open tabs and recipe windows. Not only they could match up to your degree of excellence but teachers have a knack in making children understand. You are my first teacher so you have an ability to solve my best of problems and erase my confusions.
The summery heat and the blazing afternoon are enough to kill one so much that I wonder about the situation in your place and how you are coping with the surging heat. Then I think about your strength. I draw strength from your strength and go about facing the heat that the fulgour of sunshine throws it on my face.

Meg of Little women felt bliss when she quoted "it really seems like being a fine young lady, to come home from the party in a carriage and sit in my dressing gown with a maid to wait on me". In reality, it never was the case instead we all had our mothers waiting patiently with a question in her gaze when we entered our homes,. "Did you eat anything?".

Mother, though you did not have a storied past, you work assiduously to give us a celebratory future which in turn will become our storied past to regale and feel happy about.
Mother, you are the subconscious and every little detail in our daily routine. You are the endless expanse of love roaring relentlessly towards us. You will always be. Every mother has a mother of hers nicely tucked and embedded in every fiber of her body.

Thank you for being the way you are ❤️
Happy mother's day!

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