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Looking After Mother

3/19/2016

50 Comments

 
​When I left the US Foreign Service, I locked up my house in Washington and went to India, the country of my birth, to spend some time with my brother, Pritish. I was to assist with his large movie production company and provide companionship to my aging mother, then ninety.
 
Pritish had a magnificent penthouse apartment with a sea-side view, and I surprised him by asking to stay in the same room as mother. Partly it was to help her if she had to get up at night. More, I wanted to be near her and stay as close to her as I was fifty years earlier.
 
Mother and I had always been close. I adored her gentle, affectionate ways, her soft-spoken style, her unfailing concern for people she knew. I also admired her ability to look at situations calmly, not judge too quickly, see both sides and be fair. These made her a good teacher and, later, an exceptional administrator. Her students loved her and her associates worshipped her, even when she took unwelcome decisions.
Picture
At home, she was mysteriously powerful.  She had the demeanor of the legendary oriental woman, deferential and feminine. But we knew that in important matters her views mattered. She decided the critical things: what we spent money on, which schools we attended, where we went for the holidays. She was every ready to listen to us, the children. Softly but tenaciously she explored our problems, broached aspects we hadn’t thought about, and surprised us with new solutions.
 
Father was no pushover. But mother had the amazing ability to bring out angles he had overlooked. Father, we could see, would be surprised, then impressed and finally prepared to adjust his views and accommodate mother. I quickly learned to talk things over with mother before I took a major decision. Or tried to persuade my parents to change their mind on a subject. Or just wanted to unburden my mind. She always listened.

Picture
​Fifty years had passed. Things were not the same. Mother was ninety and frail, a shadow of what she was earlier. She forgot so many things doctors thought she verged on dementia. I wanted to look after her. I wanted to be the dutiful son and take care of her. So, with her permission, I moved into her room.
 
I told her the first day, “Ma, I know you like to be independent. But, please, while I am here, do let me do a few things for you.”
 
She readily assented and said that “it would be a pleasure.”
 
But, when I returned from work that evening, I found that she had taken out my shirts and vests from the suitcase and neatly arranged them in the cupboard. When I remonstrated, she explained that since I had just arrived and possibly didn’t know where to place things, she was initially helping me out.
 
The next morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, she turned up with a cup of tea. I protested again.
 
“Ma, it is I who should be bringing you the tea.”
 
“But I have already had my tea. Since I wasn’t doing anything, I thought I might make some tea for you.”
 
This wasn’t going the way I had planned.
 
That evening as we lay in bed, read magazines and chatted desultorily, I felt we had achieved some accord. She would stop doing things for me, and would let me do a few things for her, like making the occasional tea for her.
 
Before she went to sleep, she told me that I looked tired and should go to sleep early. I kept reading and, the moment she went to sleep, I turned out the lights and tiptoed out of the room. I went to the study and started the computer to work on a project.
 
Two hours later I was startled when a hand was gently placed on my shoulder as I worked.
 
“You are working too hard,” said my mother. “You should now come to bed.”
 
I had a blinding flash of epiphany.
 
I was wrong to imagine that I could look after my mother or that she would let me do that. Fifty years made no difference at all. She was still my mother and she was still going to look after me, no matter how big, strong and independent I imagined myself.

50 Comments
Murthy
3/19/2016 08:25:04

So very true

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Manish
3/19/2016 14:56:56

Thank you, Murthy, for your comment.

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Mousumi Ghosh link
3/19/2016 13:17:35

Lost my parents recently in quick sucession.
Your writing left me with moist eyelids.

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Urmimala
3/19/2016 14:14:54

All mothers are the same. Today my Ma turned 86 and she is very much like your Ma.

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Manish
3/19/2016 15:03:18

You are so right. Their measure of caring we may find hard to reciprocate. We are both fortunate. Best wishes.

Manish
3/19/2016 15:01:19

I understand, Mousumi. The unquestioning love and acceptance they brought to your life are seldom matched. We live with a sense of loss tucked away in the most vulnerable part of our heart. Gratefyk that you wrote so candidly.

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Manish
3/19/2016 16:35:00

I understand, Mousumi. The unquestioning love and acceptance they brought to your life are seldom matched. We live with a sense of loss tucked away in the most vulnerable part of our heart. Grateful that you wrote so candidly.

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Manish
3/19/2016 16:40:30


What a wonderful piece of history and what a lovely, lovely response. You made my day. I am so glad you shared a friendship and enriched her life, when all her children were in another city -- and, in my case, in another country. Thanks.

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Anindya
3/20/2016 00:18:43

It was December 1990 - just few days before our wedding,Thakuma gifted us a beautiful pack of cologne bottles and mentioned that his son got it from its place of origin - she gave me Rs 500/- to buy a sari of my choice. That cologne pack was with us till few years back - I just could not use it fearing one day it would get over. The silk gorod red border sari is still with me. Whenever I wear this sari, I feel her touch, her affection and warmth.

Sanjukta link
3/19/2016 14:10:52

Being a mum is a forever attitude. Loved the way you rendered it.

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Manish
3/19/2016 15:04:28

I am honored by your compliment. Indeed mothers are forever -- in life and in memory. Thank you for writing.

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Anindya
3/19/2016 14:58:13

I used to call your mom Thakuma - we were neighbours at Beckbagan, Parkcircus inKolkata. Most of the evenings we used to sit on the steps of her kolkata house and shared joyous moments. When I started working, some days I used to come late still met Thakuma for few minutes. She gave me fist gift for my wedding . When I came to Mumbai 21 years back, I brought her to our place. She enjoyed meal at our place. I specially cooked for her. She was my best friend, my guide and big support in every phase

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Shrabantee
3/19/2016 15:05:02

When Maa see her child she becomes energetic. The age does not matter at all.
Loved the way you explained!

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Manish
3/19/2016 16:43:22

Thank you, Srabantee, for your kind comment.

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Manish
3/19/2016 15:08:04

What a wonderful piece of history and what a lovely, lovely response. You made my day. I am so glad you shared a friendship and enriched her life, when all her children were in another city -- and, in my case, in another country. Thanks.

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Munia Mitra
3/19/2016 15:12:44

What a wonderful note. My respectful pronam to this amazing lady .
My mother is 92 years old, I could relate so much.

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Manish
3/19/2016 16:46:11

Thank you, Munia, for your gracious remark. My compliments to you and your mother. May you long enjoy her wonderful company.

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Fred Isaacs
3/19/2016 18:36:29

I remember her so well. She was always caring and treated me as one of her sons.

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Manish
3/20/2016 10:52:55

Thank you for the recollection. Appreciate your writing.

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Kashyap Ray link
3/19/2016 23:58:54

I was very lucky to be so close to Ma. She was my banyan tree. She was mother lion and I was her cub.

My wife made it a point that I give her quality time too.

Before leaving planet earth and she told me exactly what religious rights to perform...

Both of you brothers are lucky and blessed by your mother.

I pray in my next birth she comes back as my mother again.

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Manish
3/20/2016 10:56:38

How lucky you are, Kashyap, to have such a wonderful, protective mother. How gracious of your wife, too.

Thank you for writing so heart-warmingly.

We are three brothers actually: Ashis, Manish, Pritish -- in that order. Ashis is the brilliant scholar and writer.

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Kashyap Ray link
3/20/2016 11:25:22

Wishing all you brothers good health !
We are all so blessed.

Kashyap

Chandana Sarkar
3/20/2016 08:33:35

Manish
Very touching piece. Being a Geriatric social worker and adughter,sister of elderly I know your urge to help. However it was nice that you let your mom(or accepted ) do things for you,this is empowerment,the dignity we all want to live with.These are precious moments for both of you. Being so far away I miss not spending enpough time with my mom.Now my siblings are getting older and I am trying to make annual visits. Hope people who read it will understand the truth,everyone wants to be useful. Take care. my pronam to your mom.
Chandana Sarkar ( ex union carbide)

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Manish
3/20/2016 11:03:33

Chandana, Your geriatric experience, I am sure, is very valuable and given you many insights. It is hard for people who live at a great distance, as I did, to be present, but I was lucky to have very considerate and attentive brothers who looked after my mother.

Incidentally, my mother has passed away.

I used to be a regular visitor to Union Carbide, Kolkata, during 1970-75.

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Mihir Kumar Ghosh
3/20/2016 09:21:34

It is an excellent Write Up which brings out the true character & worth of a mother by an understanding & virtuous son. This Article is quite important in the context of present day situation when aged persons are rather neglected / ignored / demeaned.

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Manish
3/20/2016 11:10:16

The abuse of older people is a worldwide phenomenon and profoundly tragic. People with dementia -- commoner as people live longer -- are sometimes bound or shackled, away from others' eyes. Thank you for drawing attention.
I was a far-away son, with scant claim to virtue, but fortunately had two wonderful brothers who looked after our mother scrupulously. Now that she is gone, I know of an emptiness that will never be erased.

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Rina Nandy
3/20/2016 09:37:40

Mejda,

Beautifully expressed. And it brought back so many memories. Of the years you spent with us in that apartment--the meals we shared whilst talking about so many matters especially little family-related anecdotes on each of our growing up years in Kolkata...

By the way, soon after you returned home last month after spending those meagre 5 days with us here and wrote to me, I wrote back in response. Did you get that letter at all?

And as I write to you, a photograph of ma stares at me from a wall to my right. Mothers will always be mothers--overseeing us no matter where they may be. On earth or as a twinkling star up there in the sky as they are want to...

Stay well.

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Manish
3/20/2016 11:14:46

Rina, Thank you for these sweet and wonderful thoughts. You were superb with Ma and that is one of many great reasons I am grateful to you. I have grown disorderly, and deferred writing to you and Ishita, and apologize for my tardiness. Your loving care is unforgettable.

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aditi roy ghatak
3/20/2016 23:12:30

How delightful! How universal!

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Manish
3/20/2016 23:29:39

Thank you, Aditi. I am sure, judging by the responses, these mother-child relations are not uncommon. We retain these memories like precious gifts that help us keep going. It is certainly so for me.

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vinoo
3/20/2016 23:16:38

These mom-child interactions will become etched in your soul forever, and will bring you joy in your trying times. For a mom, this relationship is from the womb to the tomb. Enjoy every moment.

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Manish
3/20/2016 23:26:11

Indeed these relationships are for ever, and I realize it even more now that my mother is gone. Her memories sustain me still. I am grateful for your comment.

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Sudeshna Namburi
3/20/2016 23:31:08

Reading about your mother I felt I was reading about my mother. We lost her end 2009. She was so much alike only near the end due to alzheimers she was as if on hold. But still we could feel the warmth and affection whenever we were near her. Thank you for bringing her back with your words.

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Manish
3/21/2016 00:01:21

Greatly touched by your comment. Thank you so much for writing.

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roma link
3/21/2016 09:07:25

Are you know I am crying. I miss my mother.....



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Manish
3/21/2016 12:27:55

Nothing is a greater compliment for my article. Thank you for your candid comment.

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Shrini
3/21/2016 10:20:26

Kudos to your brother and your babhi for keeping mom that way. It takes a village to raise a child, but moms are there to see it through!

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Manish
3/21/2016 12:32:17

My brothers -- and their wives -- did a great job indeed. Whatever we brothers did, we knew, of course, that it was small compared to what she had done for us. Thank you for writing.

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Jyotsna Pant link
3/21/2016 13:07:04

Ma tujhe salaam.

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Manish
3/21/2016 13:45:53

A thousand thanks.

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Lata
3/22/2016 15:03:02

Hi Manish, your article brought a lump to my throat. It's so beautifully written. I have a son who is now in sophomore year of university and I hope and pray that I am able to always do all these little things for him - you know the things that I would do for him when he was a little boy...and I believe that would give me a lot of joy.

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Manish
3/22/2016 20:49:23

What a charming letter! I too hope you can do big and little things that mean something to your son. Also, I hope with all my heart that he does big and little things that add a new dimension to the life of his mother. Thanks.

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Siddhartha Bose link
3/23/2016 12:35:17

Longing for more. A thousand Sun's just bloomed in some desolate corner of my mind. Tks.

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Manish
3/28/2016 10:45:35

A belated thanks, Siddhartha. I greatly appreciate your comment. Do please keep on reading. Will greatly welcome your remarks.

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Asita
4/18/2016 06:51:07

Still after so many years I miss her touch...a lot...
My mother...was my lifeline

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Manish
4/19/2016 10:01:08

I understand you, for my mother was my lifeline too. In all these years I have not stopped missing her. Thanks for writing and sharing.

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Ruma
1/27/2017 00:55:47

As I watch over and try my best to take care of my dying father and my chronically ill mother, I chanced upon this post. Thank you. Thank you.

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Manish
1/28/2017 00:52:46

I am deeply touched by your few words. May your mother do well and your father has an easy transition. I am very grateful for you comment. This is what keeps me going.

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Bijoy Krishna Chakraborty
7/11/2022 11:44:13

Only fine learning may be so charming like one' s mother. At her 92 years of age whenever I used to sit by her side she would talk of bygone days that was like nectar to ears.Even after her femur surgery she would try to help me placing a pillow to rest upon by her side like your mother serving tea...ohh .Your writting has made me so thoughtful and may our ma bless us all . Incidentally today's (11th July22) your column in The Statesman , IT CAME TO MIND....A long affair ....giving me pain ( I quote) “ I doubt the passion will fade any time soon " Is it then all pervading old-age and as Aldous Huxley states it's horrible ! Oh God !!

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Dipankar link
9/19/2022 14:51:17

You wrote about your favourite authors - Marx, Freud, etc. in The Stateman, few weeks back. They happen to be my authors also, including MN (in The Statesman every Monday); but why left GBS ??? I was astonished. (and others - O' Henry, Twain, of course Tagore, Ray, etc.). Rest expressions - in e-mail I would do, if I may.

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    Manish Nandy

    Writer, Speaker, Consultant
    Earlier: Diplomat, Executive


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