(Inspired by the short story from the CBSE English book, "My Mother at Sixty-Six." This is only inspiration; the whole story is real and related to me.)
This is about my mother—how loving, kind, caring, and stubborn she is.
Her life was really hard and full of struggles. She is truly amazing.
When my mother was young, her mother didn't love her because she wanted a boy child. She already had a girl (my mother's elder sister). When she finally gave birth to a boy, she caught a brain tumor. My grandfather poured everything he had to cure her but couldn't, and he had to sell everything. She died at the age of 32, and my mother was only 8 or 9 years old at that time. My mother was born in 1985.
She ran away from home many times, working during her childhood when she should have been enjoying herself. She worked in a roadside hotel in her hometown and later went to Odisha, Banaras, Patna, and Kolkata, where she lived for 3–4 years in each place, before finally coming to Delhi.
By then, her older sister had also married and had a tough life. My mother never liked her brother-in-law because he used to beat his wife and kids after drinking and even tried to marry my mother off somewhere. Angered, she left that place. After a few years, she married my father. They used to work at the same place, met there, dated, and eventually married in their mid-20s.
Before meeting my father, she had learned how to live alone, but her troubles didn't end there—even after marriage.
Even in her childhood, she had cousins she used to live with at times. My uncles were just babies, and she took care of them. But her uncle was abusive, so she left that place after a few years as well.
After her marriage, my mother gave birth to me in December of the same year.
At first, my grandmother and father didn't accept her, but after I was born, they did. My father belongs to Uttarakhand and my mother to Bihar. As you know, India has a really bad caste system. They were of different castes, but not small ones, so caste wasn't a problem—the only problem was the love marriage.
At that time, my grandmother wasn't in her right mind and gave my mother a lot of trouble, bullying her constantly. My grandfather was a retired army man who drank a lot and swore all the time.
My mother was fed up with all this. She had many hard times because of it. She wasn't the only one dealing with trouble—my aunt, my father's brother's wife, used to manipulate her husband too.
One time, I suddenly fell ill with stones in my intestine. I couldn't digest any food, and it eventually turned into stones in my intestine. My mother got worried sick. She fought with my father so she could take me to the hospital. We used to live in the mountains, and there were no hospitals for 100 km.
She took me and my father with her, leaving my grandparents behind because they couldn't care much. We started living in Delhi. My parents tore open the sky and earth by working day and night to get money to cure me. They spent 300,000–500,000 rupees on my medication, and when I reached the age of 12, I was finally cured. I had to take medicine continuously for nine years.
I'm grateful to them. But sometimes I wonder why they even saved me. I feel I'm not even that worthy—I'm just a useless, stupid brat living his days.
But still, a mother is a mother. She could do anything for her child.
Sometimes, I fear the day I might lose her. But I know I shouldn't mourn it, because everyone who is born will die one day. Still, there's a fear—I might lose her. I don't want to lose either of my parents. I just hope we live happily and that she lives to see her grandkids one day.
I regret that they had to live in poverty because of me. Somehow, we are still poor, but at least happy and middle class.
I hope this becomes a loop, and I could live it many times—not as an unhealthy child, but a healthy and talented one—so I can give them what I couldn't in this life.
End.