BY ALINA RIZVI
I have seen women being idealised as statue of love in form of mother. As she loves and spreads love around her continously.
I have seen my mother in kitchen, cook
When I was a toddler, till I got my slam book.
As a child I thought time went slowly,
But I heard my mamma say it goes by fast, firmly.
Got older and she made sure I spend time studying.
I wished to get older faster cause I anticipated a world, to be happy in.
And now as an adult, I see my mom cook.
She makes feast gives some to us, to neighbors, she eats last.
I always hear her complaining that time moves fast.
As a child we have all time for ourselves,
At succesive age with different tasks we busy ourselves.
And my mother took it as her fate,
To cook, clean, help us, she must operate.
Her skin with small wrinkles now, eyes tinted with pain, when I tell her to take a break.
She fears her routine will break.
I sense her hardened speech as she aches,
So I try to soften her worry by putting smile on her face.
She talked about things she liked & used to do,
when she saw me painting, one afternoon.
But now she hesitated cause she felt her talents fading, into the blue.
Later we cooked a meal, I made her eat first for a change this time.
Brought a new painting book during her naptime.
Saw her eyes glisten and her child like giggle blossom.
We joked about colours, spoke in local tone & reminiscing customs.
And time slowed around us.
Saw her trying to ace, learning at her pace.
I felt her move from within, she outgrew her own statue. She kept loving us but now herself too, again & overall.