I owe her all.
Growing up, my mother would (and still is) be the first to wake on weekday mornings. She would hustle about the kitchen, getting our tiffins ready, as we (my Dada, my brother and I), spent the next several minutes, in blissful, dreamless sleep.
One rare morning, I slipped out of bed, awakened by the smell of lime rice, and followed it to the kitchen. My mother was in conversation with three birds all perched on the window, curiously peering through the grills, heads tilted, listening. She was explaining to them that she would give them biscuits as soon as the rice was packed into my lunchbox. They waited patiently, and one of them, a crow she named Kaloo, sat and cawed, as if reminding her that she was not to forget them. As the years have gone by and the neighbors have changed as many times as the winds change direction, Mother's little feather friends still come back, some old, some new, sometimes rare exotic cousins, and of course, Kaloo.
Sometimes they come for the food, sometimes they come for the love.
She is in many ways, a mother to them
She has taught me to care and to be compassionate. To be unafraid and keep my friendships extended to feathered and furry creatures.
Her love never seems to cease, and is never constrained.
It is selfless and limitless and effortless.
She is to me, the most genuine, most wonderful human being.
I owe her my education,
We love you.
Happy Mother's Day.