I need three bottles of karela (bitter gourd) juice to balance the harmful effects of reading all the super sugary FB status updates on Mother’s Day. I grew up without having any knowledge of celebrating Mother’s Day. I don’t really remember wishing ever my mother on this second Sunday of May. Now, the Americans have taken over urban India.
A week before this Mother’s Day, my e-mail inbox was bombarded with messages from Amazon, flipkart, myntra with messages that read like “Deepika, buy this/that for your mom and make her happy.” Skype went a step further and sent a message, “Put a smile on your mom’s face and skype with her.” Well, I never knew that skype can make me connect with my mom who’s hopefully having a good time up there since October, 2013. Aah technology, wish you were that advanced in your astral presence.
This Mother’s Day started on a beautiful reflective note for me as I started the day by writing a long letter (e-mail) to my spiritual companion. Writing to him is cathartic. And then I had a nice conversation with my close friend whom I later met in the evening. Even as I was busy cooking and cleaning my kitchen pantry during the day, there was virtual outpouring of emotions happening on Facebook.
When I logged on to my FB account in the evening, there were too many notifications from my friends. There was a common thread running among these posts. Suddenly I found that almost everybody worth their sugar had changed their profile pics. Some did the hard work of digging out some 50 year old picture of their mother and then scanning it before putting it. Too much of hard work, I would say on a Sunday. And that too for few likes.
By the end of the day, there were too many pictures (all mixed up) dancing in my head. Was she R’s mother? Or was she M’s mother? My mind was all confused like the Indian economy.
And all the status updates read the same — Mom, thank you for making me what I am today (hello, yes.. the piece of shit you are as a human being). Love you, mom…. for being there for me always (Yes, she got to be there. There was no shopping mall/ no multiplexes/ no coffee shops either. Or for that matter no Facebook to while away time).
This whole business of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are nothing but gimmicks of a market-driven society. Some years ago, I read a beautiful narrative of an American woman living in an old-age home in which she mentioned that all her three children come to see her only on Mother’s Day. I hope, there lies a lesson for all of us.
In stead of putting up sugar-coated FB status updates on Mother’s Day and in turn waiting to count how many likes we have got, let us look after our mothers. Let us not dismiss them just because they can’t operate a smart-phone or they can’t walk fast anymore. Let us look after them the way they looked after us. And remember they looked after us beautifully without putting a single post about the joy of parenting on Facebook.
It’s ‘cool’ to be tender with your parents in your day to day living.