Mother - Daughter - Mother

  


She was born in the Himachal hills, the nearest school was about five kilometers from her house, where in addition to homework and play she also had to look after two younger sisters when their mother worked in the orchards. So mummy's childhood was an all too common childhood for rural girls in India six decades ago.


I had a very different childhood, in a city, going to a good school , with plenty of assistance at home and practically no choices barred because so many decades ago my mother had chosen to fight for her education with her parents, her right to work with her in-laws and the world in general for the rights of girls.

She wanted to become a teacher and became one and  my achievements make her as proud as the achievements of so many of her students who give her so much credit for being a special teacher.
The voice in me that speaks for girls and against every discrimination against them is HER VOICE . I tell her that she was my first ever feminism expert and she tells me she doesn't know what Feminism is but yes no human being must be put down because of her gender.

Today as she shares her childhood anecdotes with my daughter I know there is no one else who can teach her feminism better.

So every mother's day I celebrate a lot of women through my mother

My grandmothers and great grandmothers and all women before them
Aunts, teachers, senior colleagues who build other women up
Cousins, friends, colleagues who have each other's back
Nieces, young girls, students who make the fight for gender equality worthwhile
My daughter who is my hope for a better world for girls
Myself - daughter, mother , woman in no particular order, all mixed up !

This post is an entry for mother’s day contest by kreativemommy.

Footprints

 

Derek was brought up by his American foster parents with a lot of love and care. As soon as he was old enough to understand that he was from a different race and not their biological offspring both John & Dina had told him the entire story about their long stay in India and how they came about adopting him from an orphanage in Delhi.

They had two younger children too who loved Derek just like an elder brother should be loved. He had no complaints from life and never wanted to dig his history in India.

Dina & John were into organic farming and were not book people at all, the only reading material their house had was the Bible and the newspaper but Derek grew up as a sensitive boy who had his way with words.

He was now an award-winning writer, but even then had no interest in his own background story. John had passed away a few years ago and two months ago Dina too had breathed her last.

In her will she had left him a locker that he had opened a week ago. It had a few family heirlooms and a parcel from Sister Bridgette from the Orphanage in Delhi. The parcel had a journal in which were scribbled a few English poems in a rough hand.

All the pages were signed Sarla and were dated just a few months before his birth date. It had a small note from Dina & John about why they wanted him to get this only after they were gone and why they would want him to find this only connect with his biological mother.

Derek read the poems again and again, the strong language, the stark imagery, the stunning poetry…

He now knew where his writing skills came from, he was finally walking in his mother's footprints.

 

 

This post was written for Wordy Wednesday at B-A-R.

 

 

Looking back - Life Altering A to Z Blogging Challenge

Blogging from A to Z Challenge [April 2015]

 

 

 

I had signed up for this challenge almost on a wild hunch, on a trial and error basis. I was not sure how this works because I am not a very passionate blogger per se, though I need to keep writing something or the other constantly.

 

In the first week of March my father passed away. When I came back from there the mail for the challenge was in my inbox and I knew I had found a theme worthy to keep my going for a month.

 

Here are my take aways from the challenge:

 

• Exploring feelings through alphabets, feelings that were somewhere deep down in the sub-conscious and wanted to be heard/spoken

• Finding that sentiments like GRIEF are as universal as love. My posts connected me to daughters from across the world, I wish there were some dads too who could read and know what they mean to their little girls.

• Learning is the only way to GROW and to HEAL. I am not a chat person but the TWITTER CHATS every Thursday brought in so much of learning and strengthened the camaraderie.( though I would suggest the hosts to have timings at least for one session that suits Asian Bloggers too).

• Blogging is not only about self-expression it is also about SHARING and thus CONNECTING, the two basic human needs.

• SURVIVOR is such a positive word whether it is this challenge, or its is life.

Loved this experience, it was almost LIFE-ALTERING. I am sure I will do this every year now on.

If blog Traffic statistics are to be trusted, these are my TOP 3 posts:

http://poojasharmarao.blogspot.in/2015/04/aide-memoire-in-memory-of-my-late-father.html

http://poojasharmarao.blogspot.in/2015/04/pay-it-forward-parenting-in-memory-of.html

http://poojasharmarao.blogspot.in/2015/04/open-letter-to-papa-in-memory-of-my.html