Unsung Hero: A Mother's Journey of Sacrifice and Selflessness

Since the late '70s, my childhood memories harken back to when my family transitioned from a rented house to one we owned. I recall strolling with my cousins, despite a 20-year age gap, during this significant move. The previous year marked the completion of our house, where my parents, brother, and I joyously celebrated Diwali amidst the bare rooms with a few sparklers. It was a rare moment as part of our usually joint family, where only the four of us reveled in an occasion without the extended family's presence.

My mother's tireless dedication was a constant in my upbringing. I vividly remember waking up to find her already toiling in the kitchen, perspiring from her early morning efforts. After ensuring everyone's lunch boxes were packed and they left for work, she embarked on her daily routine of sweeping, washing, and drying clothes, all while nudging me to prioritize my studies. Once her chores were done, she'd assist me with my extensive schoolwork, ready me for school, and ensure I caught the bus on time. Her meticulousness extended to my brother's return from school, as she swiftly served him lunch before stealing a brief nap.

Evenings brought a shift as those returning from work pitched in with household tasks, yet my mother remained the last to retire, after meticulously finishing her work. Her day-to-day life was a seamless choreography of responsibilities, with occasional breaks for short-term courses or community events, deviating only slightly from her relentless routine.

Her own childhood, marked by scarcity, instilled in her a deep sense of responsibility early on. With just two school uniforms, she balanced household duties, studies, and caring for her younger siblings before stepping into the role of a wife and shouldering my father's responsibilities. Arriving in Bombay, she trod a path where comfort was a luxury she rarely indulged in.

She stood steadfastly by my father's side, supporting his endeavors and tending to all who crossed their threshold, be it guests from his hometown or colleagues from his social service circles. In an era devoid of instant communication, her role often meant orchestrating unexpected visits or events single-handedly.

After my father's retirement, they relocated to our native place, where her caregiving responsibilities extended to her aging parents and then my father's mother. Now, as my father's health declines, she's become his primary caregiver, managing his daily routines, serving as his eyes, ears, and sometimes even his wheelchair. Despite her own health concerns, such as her deteriorating knee, she worries more about who will care for my father than her own surgery.

Reflecting on my mother's journey, it's evident that her life has been a selfless dedication to others. While she's revered for holding our family together and ensuring everyone's well-being, I can't help but question if such a life, devoid of self-care, is truly fulfilling. It's crucial to prioritize oneself amidst caring for others, a lesson my mother's unwavering dedication has taught me.