I suppose I’ve been a spoilt brat, though my parents didn’t spoil me. Life did. Having my mother with me in my home to love and care for, was the greatest blessing in my life, right up till my mid sixties. I mean, how many can boast that? Lately, I’ve discovered another reason for missing her so much. The English language.
This has been my recent discovery. I realized, she was my strongest link with the English language. I’ve grown up thinking in English. Here, in Pakistan, English is a synonym for being educated. Almost everyone can speak or understand English. Everyone’s mother tongue is mostly a local dialect and Urdu and then they learn English in school.
Why I miss her
Mum, I’ve missed holding your soft hands. (They were the softest hands on earth,) miss your hug, your feel, your look, your presence. Every time I went out, I knew, you’d be there waiting for me. That was pretty often. Now, you aren’t there, for me to come home to. You left my world on March 13th 2024. I’ve missed you like anything since then. If I went for an overnight stay, our video call would be there. Of course, I’d keep an eye on you over the cameras. Our staff would help with our video chats too. My daughter Waliya would keep you entertained with your favorite movies on her laptop or on your smart tv. I knew she would visit you as much as possible, as she lived next door.
I still miss you and often see you in my dreams. In those you are the way you were when I was growing up. Active and walking around.
Miss you and your anger too!
When I got late in returning home. I’d go to her room to wish her, and she’d not be talking to me. I’d pretend, I have ‘got’ it. She’d be watching Yaani’s music video on her smart tv, while lying down. It would be late, but she would be waiting. I’d just sit on the nearby sofa, then start chatting about the evening. Soon she would be melting, till I’d give her a big hug, and she would return my smile. I knew, it was just worrying about me that made her angry.
Motherhood!
I know how she felt. I have three daughters, and I’ve had my fill of that feeling! Life is so funny. Once thawed, she would a become chatty and mention her favorite players antics, or what the royalty was up to. She couldn’t stand Camilla, though she wasn’t all that keen on Diana either. Anyhow, she loved reading, ballet, and tennis and was very current about that. At eighty nine, she could read without glasses.
Her wit was something else.
Once Waliya was saying to me, that ‘how come you don’t make those tasty desserts that you made when we were young?’
Mum responded, ‘She has deserted the desserts!’
We burst into laughter.
I can just go on and on about her. She was just one of a kind. Very loving, very witty with an amazing sense of humor. Extremely wise, and gave prompt and good advice, for any situation. I often said to her that, ‘Mum, you are made up of another kind of clay, than the rest of us!’
Grief affects your lungs.
I never knew how biological one’s ties with one’s mother can be. Literally. After she left, my lungs grew symptoms I’d never seen before in my life. Then I googled it; I found out how grief affects one’s body and mostly affecting one’s lungs. It was an emotional and physical trauma. I had to go into therapy to recover fully.
My Mother and my connection with my language:
The fact that she was English. I mean, her grandfather Fred Kilburn came from UK with the British army. Her other grandfather was a Dutchman who disappeared on the day his favorite daughter got married. Mum’s name is in British records, Rosemary Anne Young. She never planned to go and live in England, as did many of her relatives in 1947 when Pakistan got made.
Love for Pakistan
She loved Pakistan and the comforts of life over here. Perhaps it was also because her mother couldn’t walk. Their maid ‘Topsy’ they called her, took great care of her. The cook made the food and life was good in spite of it. My grandfather was in the Railways, then opted for Pakistan, and moved to Saidpur from Calcutta, (now Kolkata.)
We, almost always spoke in English with each other. It was the most natural language for me to speak, and write. I mean, I’ve always thought in English. Actually, I speak Urdu fluently too and then I learnt Punjabi; A bit of Arabic and some of Pushto too. But my own language has always been English. My comfort place. Mum taught herself Urdu to be able to communicate with our folks, she spoke with an accent and some of her phrases were grammatically wrong. Yet, it sounded adorable and one didn’t correct her. She would also let us have it, if anyone tried to criticize her Urdu!
Mum was so kind to her staff
They just loved her, and poured out their struggles to her. She would be there with her ‘help’ and her wit to cheer them up. Often, I’d come to her room to find her surrounded with them, staying on with her, in spite of their ‘off’ time. They loved her. When she passed, she all cried like anything, and love to remember her and talk about her.
My estrangement from English writing.
As I got my knee replacement operation done, less than three months after she left. I gifted myself this MacBook. I don’t know, but I lost connection with my website. I’ve finally, hired someone to work with me, to sort all my tech issues. So, now finally I’m feeling as if I’ve found my website, and myself.
I realized, my connection with myself and my English writing had got hit. Only recently I realized how much of an impact Mum’s presence had on my language. Like we spoke in English, naturally. Now, I speak with my staff in Urdu. Only my chats with my kids are in English mostly, but then they do get mixed with Urdu. ( Mum was with me in my home for last thirteen years. So, we spoke several times a day. Previously, one did, with the kids.
As life changed, with the passing of my husband, father and mother, then marriage of my daughters. Frankly, there was no one left at home to speak English with!
When I began my YouTube channel. I started with podcasts in English. Then I realized, that my viewers would prefer Urdu. Suddenly, its all about speaking Urdu. Then I started vlogs. I’ve realized again, that these too need to be in Urdu. So, to compensate, I’ve started writing subtitles in English for my English speaking viewers, and my grandkids.
Blunders in Urdu:
In the beginning I was afraid, I would make silly mistakes in Urdu, as I’m not that good in it.
But the beauty of being my age of 68 years is that I damn care what anyone thinks! So what, if I make a mistake? I make so many mistakes anyway. Let this be one more!
The other day, I made a big blunder, and then couldn’t go back to editing it out. Frankly, I make so many vlogs, I’ve forgotten which one it was!
See?
So, actually, now only my writings on my website and WordPress are my link with the language of my mother. Though I was expressing myself in my vlogs and podcasts too. Nothing compares with this. Writing in English is a catharsis for me. Its like journaling, which I do in English too.
‘You know Mama,’ Nataliya, my eldest daughter in Seattle, told me, ‘now no one writes blogs. Now its the time for …. ‘
‘Whatever!’
I have my own readers. I love your comments. Reading and writing is a catharsis which cannot be replaced with blogging, podcasting or vlogging. I can tell from experience!
Once a psychiatrist even met me and told me how she asks her patients to read my blog posts. Basically, all educated people in my country understand English anyway. So, I’ve got to let my Mum go and live peacefully in her new life in the other world with all her loved ones. Yes, my Daddy, her parents, her dear friend aunty Surraya. Yes, her son who was born after me, and passed away within two days. She always thought of him. Now he would be with her.
Stephon R. Covey said, ‘a time comes when you have to let go of your loved ones. So, they can live peacefully in their after-life, without anyone pulling them from here….
