30 / Mother

We are but versions of each other

I don’t remember what my mother was like when I was a child. The memories are hazy at best and probably inaccurate. I hold on to them nonetheless, fragments stitched together into a messy tapestry – childlike and hopeful.

What I do remember is unpleasant. I can vividly recall the fights we had when I was a young adult. I remember the disappointment. I remember the guilt and burden that came with lying. At one point, all the lies I had spun unravelled. The truth surfaced, and I got caught many times. I continued to lie. In retrospect, it was an unnecessary weight we both carried. She feared I would go awry, and I feared I would be caged. We were both wrong, but we didn’t know it then.

What I want to remember is that my mother is a woman first and was a girl once. I want to remember the dreams she set aside to fulfil mine and the choices she made to ensure I would grow to be an independent woman. I benefited from her wisdom even though our paths moved in parallel lines. I learnt to respect another perspective, even though it did not align with my thinking. She challenged me, and I challenged her back. In our attempt to find our voice, we both helped each other grow.

My mother is a version of me as I am of her. Shadows of her appear in me, her face etched within the fine lines that have begun to mark my eyes. The lies that drew firm boundaries around us have disappeared. There is nothing to hide and a lifetime to catch up on.

I never wanted to be like my mother. I realise now that it was never a choice. We are bound by blood, ancestry and a shared history. We are bound by love. And the thing about love is that you don’t get to choose what you keep and what you discard. What you do get to choose is how you respond to it.

Today, my mother and I choose peace. We choose dialogue and laughter. We choose gentle nudges and soft hugs. And with each conversation, we inch closer to a relationship we have both craved. I finally see her, and I hope she sees me too.

Naqab (Mask) explores the many masks I wear as an Indian woman. It is my attempt to unravel, and discover my deep-seated conditioning, biases, strengths and weaknesses, one portrait at a time.

The project will span a year, with one portrait every week.

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Head here for the entire series.

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