The celebrated beauty of ages

It amazes me, the enigma associated with every encounter which I experience. What magic does it hold? From where does it accumulate such a magnitude of unfailing appeal? Yes, I am talking about that walking and talking tribe that is present everywhere among us. Their presence often goes unnoticed, not due to the lack of love, but usually she is taken by most of us for granted.

Walking on the crossroads, whenever her shadow comes, I hungrily try to get my fill. Her demeanor charms me as real magical stuff. That slow pace of walking filled with a tinge of fatigue feels so soothing and revitalizing. Why does that ordinariness seem so extraordinary?

That incessant supply of nourishment which was granted by her would always boost and enhance my ego. In her soothing presence, I never hesitated in about boasting my presence in her life. As a finance adviser and self-commissioned commander of hers, it was an unwritten memorandum between us which I would often flash to her. “You cannot do without me” and “it is I who keeps vigil on your transactions and saves you”, as it was my nodding which would confirm the completion of any transaction done by the otherwise multi-tasking mastermind of her own saga. Oblivious of the strength of the aura with which she would command and hold her position, I never failed to comment, “It was I who safely brought all your shopping home”.

The advancing grey of her locks and the fine crinkles of her face still hold a special appeal to me. They were the parallel companions to my childhood and adolescence. My presence had witnessed all those changes of her face.
Why do the familiar rustling crispness of cotton saris and the fragrance of jasmine alert all my senses to feel her? Her perennial confusion while choosing the mundane, what quantity of spices should be put in pickles, which sari would be best suited for a particular occasion. Never mentioning the right shade of color as she was always absorbed in self selective color blindness, still appeals best.

Her wrongly framed-up queries and absent-mindedness had encouraged my confidence to cross and correct her, which sometimes touched the wall of rudeness. From where do long-left habits or the same longings come through?

Remembering all those proud moments of your proximity- now at your side of the table, I have started receiving your feel, whenever I come in proximity of your tribe. The moment I get it from any quarter, I seize it immediately before its evaporation and experience the same jubilation. These encounters help me to fill the void created by your absence. Might be, like the other decisions you have taken for me, this time too you chose your time of departure when I was old enough to be a mother myself.
But still the child within me craves for you, as though I feel you in chunks and pieces, and it overwhelms me. Most often, any semblance to you in any such encounters assures me of your presence and the liveliness of the pristine emotion that is called mother’s love.