Amma

It was pretty cold outside. I would lie in the same position, curled up into a taut ball for ages, if I could. It was in mornings like this when my mind would wander. When it would hold my hand and take me to places, meet people, tell me about how much I was missing out in life. And right when I'm pondering about something very exciting, right at that exact moment, my mother would wake me up.
I sat up on the bed while she hurriedly went back to the kitchen. The smell of wonderfully soft and steamy puttu  wafted into my room.
This would be followed by an aroma of various spices. Cardamom , cinnamon, staranise, and garam masala. The soft crackle pop of mustard seeds on oil. I dragged myself out of my bed into the kitchen. My amma would always be hurrying around. Checking if the spices are heating up, warming a cup of tea in the microwave, tasting yesterdays leftover curry for her to pack to office.
Especially during times like these I'd always wonder if she were really a superwoman. My amma is a scientist. She works hard day in and out. She comes back and cooks us dinner. She reads quite a lot and she has her own opinions about everything. Even when in certain cases, we beg to differ entirely, I always wind up thinking her ideology has quite a bit of logic too. She doesn't believe in love at first sight and in showing too much affection. We always end up having a fight over this. And last day when my best friend told me I had a 'certain way' in showing my emotions, I knew. I knew that even though I would fight and go to every extent to prove my point, I was an exact replica of her.
Not many people believe in her ideologies. She taught me to be strong. She taught me to live with my head held high. She told me that no matter how well behaved or respectful I was in life, I'd never reach the place I dreamt of without education.
She taught me to be humble. She told me to refuse when I didn't want something. She taught me to think. To not blurt out whatever popped up in my head.
I could never curl up beside her when I wanted to cry. My amma did not believe in hugging. She believed in reassuring. She believed in talking things out and once in a while, kissing me
to be." She tapped a finger on my forehead. " My daughter should be intelligent. The rest will follow" 3 year old me understood nothing. But I knew the forehead tap was important. So the next time my fraternal grandmother told me "pooja kutti should get married in 20 fat golden necklaces and hands full of bangles" , I placed myself on her large lap and tapped her forehead with my finger. "This is the only important thing, amumma. The rest will follow" I said, leaving my poor amumma with a puzzled face.
And that was the first lesson my amma taught me. To learn and let everything else come second. And that advice, has led me here amma. And it will lead me to better places, by God's grace.
I love you.