By Aliya Naseer Farooq
The simple ritual of waking the children up in the morning is a great example showing how a mother’s day begins and how most of what we do as mothers goes unnoticed and unacknowledged. It is not even recognised as work. A friend mentioned it just now and I thought how apt an image it is for most of our struggles as mothers.
Alarms are another story. Mine goes off first at 4:00 am when I am supposed to be up for Fajr. That is the intention every night. May Allah accept and forgive. Next one goes off at 6:00 am when I should have already said my prayers, done my meditation and deep breaths in fresh air – this last one has not happened in a long, long time. Third one goes off at 7:00 am which is the extra one, in case none of the above work. Well, they have not… so I jump off the bed. That is dangerous at my age, Facebook says. It can result in stroke and fracture.
What to do? Been jumping off the bed for half a century, now. Don’t they have a Guinness record or something for that. I qualify, really. Jumping off the bed for school for twelve years. Ami used to say, “Stand up, right now!”, not get up. It worked. Six years of college – jumping. Then first child. Still jumping – jumping five times in the night and then the morning jump. The world would not wait even if I have already done my share of jumps nocturnally. The day must start. Doors must be unlocked. Time waits for none; neither does the milkman.
Coming back to the subject of waking the children up, the reaction with which one is met upon waking someone up is a gruesome study in repressed anger, pent up hatred and deadly malice. If looks could kill, all mums would be dead. It is the beginning of our mornings. Welcome to motherhood, darlings.
The day has started. A new day. The morning has broken. Poets will compose poems. Writers will write earth shaking prose. I will try to keep my eyes peeled. That will be my contribution to humanity. I will pour in umpteen cups of tea, hoping for the magic to happen. The way it does in the tea ads. I even have a yellow cup, an orange one and a bright green one. I leave no cup unturned in my quest for that amazing freshness and wakefulness that Mahira Khan exudes on TV. Life they say, is a journey; we all travel the path. Some find nirvana, others can’t even find a fully awake brain! Anyways, that’s me. Do not worry. You all are far more evolved beings. I am sure.
Family leaves for university, office, field trip. Time to take a breather. Relax. Enjoy, smell the coffee. Open Facebook, check messages. Lo and behold! A plethora of good morning messages on WhatsApp, Instagram, Facebook. Bright and beautiful blondes standing in fields of daffodils with their backs towards me, cup in hand, facing green mountains. Are you real? I mean, really? Why are they in a field of daffodils facing the mountains, at 8:30 am? Why?
To all my dear friends, I beseech you. Do not send me such pithy messages with gorgeous women filled with hope and humanity, so early in the day. I am not human enough, right now – please let me be – I have been ‘ jumping’ too long.
Then, of course, there is this hot debate on the Superwoman thing. She who does it all. The ‘S-hero’. She exists. I tell you. They are there. I have met a few and lived with one – Ami! But you know what, at the end of the day, it does not matter!
The medals fall by the wayside. The accolades grow hollow. The ambitions seem trivial. Someone asked my mother, at the end of a successful career in teaching and administration, “Ma’am what has been your greatest achievement?” My mother later told me that her own answer even surprised her, “My children!”, she found herself saying.
Go for the medals. Go for the accolades. Go for the ambitions. They are the stuff of life. Just don’t do it at the cost of your family, your children, and your loved ones. Do not carry the burden of the world on your shoulders. They are not designed to hold this weight. Do lend your shoulder to your son when he comes home in the evening, defeated in a match, in a debate, in life. For it shall happen. Will you be there? Just to hug and stay still for a lingering moment. No words needed. Let him rest his tired head on your shoulder. He will forget that defeat and his heart will heal. This is what your shoulder is designed for. But if, like my Ami, you choose to lift up the world, then let me tell you that you can! You will! Let no one tell you otherwise. I have seen it happen. I have also seen mighty warriors walk alone on thorny paths, as not many women understand their journey. I have also seen charismatic ladies stand on the stage and deliver speeches that warm young people’s hearts and give them hope. I have seen them drive back home alone to a cold house and a cold meal, as not many men understand choices. I have seen gorgeous women in glittering gowns walk down the red carpet to receive well deserved awards for their artistic performances amidst standing ovations, the whole world looking up to them. I have seen them come home only to put that award in a shelf and stoop down to pick up the shards of broken glass that someone has smashed in anger before storming out, as not many will have the vastness of mind and spirit to accommodate the admiration that the whole world holds for you.
The balancing act is tricky. You may or may not be able to walk the line. Yet, things are better now. They will be even better for our daughters. Choices will need to be made. Paths will have to be forged. We will have to live with the calm or the storm that is within us. No one else can do that for us. Choose wisely. Choose happiness. Choose yourself. Choose life. Best of luck, girl!
