MAMMA MIA!

Mothers! They can be so infuriating. Ugh! They are like some cryptic unsolvable puzzle. It’s hard to comprehend the workings of their convoluted minds. 

So, what brought this ranting on? An old classmate’s article got published in some unread supplement of a daily newspaper. And because that supplement does not get many advertisements and hence, has a lot of free space, they also published a 10’ X 6’ picture of her. Trust me. Having worked with newspapers, I know how these things work. Besides, her face looks bloated! Ma did not even happen to come across this article while her daily newspaper scanning. My classmate’s mother, who happens to be a close friend of my mother, called Ma up to share (or rather brag!) this good news. The minute the line went dead, Ma screamed for me making me run down, two stairs at a time, wondering what I have done wrong now! There she stood. One hand on the hip, one hand shoving a crumpled newspaper under my nose. As I tried to bring my heart rate back to normal she went on to read that article in rather alleviated tones, her pitch a few octaves above normal. I could only catch the words – topper, brilliant, creative because of the unnecessary emphasis on them. The rest of the words were incomprehensible, what with her reading at inhuman speed! When I could finally make her calm down and take a few deep breaths, she looked at me with accusing eyes as if I had printed the stupid article with that even stupider picture! Of course she was jealous. I had bereft her of the chance to show her daughter off at work by not appearing on that hardly – ever – read – inconsequential supplement of the newspaper. I was incensed enough to throw her a smoldering look and stomp back right up the stairs. To aggravate the effect, I slammed the door to my room as well.

She loves me. She is proud of me. I was there those umpteenth times when she exaggerated my handful achievements. I have seen that glint in her eyes when she raises her chin and haughtily tells her relatives, friends, colleagues and whosoever will listen about the wonderful talents that her daughter possesses. I have heard her laugh her musical laughs reserved for special occasions when her relatives, friends or colleagues praise her daughter.

But I have also noticed the underlying provocative tone when she narrates, with redundant details, achievement of other kids, as if challenging me to retaliate by performing some more praise worthy tricks which she can boast about. I have also heard that edge in her voice when she compares me with others. It is an unfathomable mix of emotions. She is jealous, encouraging, angry and determined. And that is a fatal combination.

Isn’t it weird? Every little achievement of ours is hyperbolized and presented in awe – inducing ways before others. But every unachieved milestone is made into a mountain.

Sigh. Mothers. You love them. But you can’t understand them.