The complexities of the mother-daughter bond: A personal reflection (Part-1)

Trigger Warning: Trauma Dumping, A little Gore.

I am more of a dark-theme person but when it comes to reminiscing about my mum, I prefer a warm lighter shade as an ode to the light she still represents in my life.

I was 8 years old when this happened. It is definitely weird that I still remember this but I guess that was an intense incident for me. My mum had always been aggressive. I did not exactly blame her, I thought that’s how it is when I would see her family. I think her depleting health contributed to this too.

Back then owning a cellphone was not as widespread as it is now. Being at a place like her hometown - a place with limited electricity and almost nothing to do for a kid like me, I and my cousin brother would be immersed in those old mobile games with our utmost attention, cause I was always a boring person - we both had very less in common.

This was during summer. My mum was going to take a shower and had told me to keep the mobile exactly where she could see it as soon as she came out of the bathroom, which I did. I kept it right on the table which was only a few tiles away. Although when she came out, the phone was missing and I was blamed for it. I kept pleading that I was innocent but I was thrashed like there was no tomorrow. I still remember my forehead was a little swollen on the left side because she had brutally pushed me and I fell near a wooden sofa. My lower lip also got a cut. I couldn’t even ask anyone for help because it was useless - everyone in the family was a scarier version of her. I cried very hard that day and did not speak with anyone at all. Later on, my youngest uncle who was my mum’s dearest got back home and threw the phone in her lap. And she just laughed. That’s all. Forget about yelling at him, she did not even mention how brutally I was treated by her just a few hours back because of his actions. I think she did regret her actions and tried to coddle me up but something changed in me that day.

My hostility with my mum increased. I would never share with her, I hated every single taunt or criticism with my heart and I hated going to her hometown. I just felt it was a very vile place to be. Also, my dad never wanted to stay there either. I’d call him every night crying that he should come here and take me home as soon as he can.

The hostility did not change over the years. I was 11 when my dad scolded me for the first time about disrespecting my mum. I did stop doing that but it felt like I could never trust her. I never tried to see that she has had her fair share of struggles and even though what happened to me was as wrong as it could’ve been - she did regret and repent for it.

I was 13 when my youngest uncle passed away.

He had lived with us for a very long time thanks to my mum’s stubbornness and yes, I was equally annoyed by his presence as much as my mum was happy. Losing both parents when he was just a 16-year-old kid did him no favors. He became a smoker, a drinker, a gambler, and a very angry person. He developed diseases as simple as diabetes and as complex as Wilson’s at a young age, almost all the same things my mum would be diagnosed with as well later on. I hated how comfortable he would be around me and teased me in the most vile way, especially when he knew I hated it. For my mum, he was like her first son. She always was on his side whenever he and I fought and she dotted on him as mums usually do with their kids. Ever wonder how that made me, her actual kid, feel like? I don’t think he hated me though, he would get me vada pav and had taken insurance in my name so that I could have something when he passes away.

He was 28 when he had a heart attack and left us. It was a very grim time, even for me. I never hated the man, just did not exactly like anyone from my mum’s side since it felt like everyone made it a point to break into my space. And yes, that incident from when I was 8 played a huge role in my behaviour towards both of them.

My mum could not bear it. She had already been dealing with her health for 5 years then and when she got the news she threw away the phone in a fit of anger. She blamed herself for many things - She blamed herself for not convincing him to come back to Pune with her, She blamed herself for sending one less Rakhi by mistake for Rakshabandhan and she blamed herself for saving him as a small kid when gave him a shorter life than most - it would’ve been easier if he died in infancy rather than as a grown-up after everyone got attached to him.

When we reached there, I could not bear to see him. I could not bear to see my mum crying over him, asking him to get up and walk. I tried to physically support her but her grief made her push me away so that she could hold his face with both hands for the last time. I did not feel angry this time - only sad for her. Her breakdown lasted till her last breath. My dad and I left the place in like 4-5 days after all that occurred because he was not ready for me to leave my school for a long time period. My mom was very angry about it, but she did not stop me. When she got back after 2 weeks, I would find her crying almost every single day after I came back from school. My hostility towards her reduced and my empathy towards her increased - she needed all the support she could get, thats what I kept telling myself.

Things started to improve only for my paternal grandpa to pass away exactly after one year of my maternal uncle. My mum was the first daughter-in-law and was dotted on at my dad’s place for her innocence and beauty. My grandpa treated her like his own daughter and gifted her many things that I have still kept intact. His passing away was a big blow to the entire family, especially to my dad. My mum would keep hiding tears but it was visible that she felt cursed.

My parents had an arranged marriage, something they both did not really agree to. My father is a very loving father, but I can very confidently say he was not a very loving husband. I don’t blame him - being the first kid in a generation means you have to be pretty thick-skinned and being vulnerable will probably outdo all of that. He did all his duties by my mum but emotionally he was very shut off. He still is in a way. The comfort my mum needed was never provided by him. It felt like a loveless marriage every time they were in the same room - I was able to notice that even as a kid. Everyone else did too.

My mum had stopped expecting much from him - but that meant I was the one left as the only nearby emotional comfort for her, which I wasn’t. I was like my dad when I was growing up I’d say - if it was something emotionally heavy, I did not want to show it to anyone and frankly, had no idea how to deal with it. I would hear my mum cry in the room sometimes and I would try to convince myself that I should not interfere. I was not sure about her reactions either but I knew she wanted to be comforted by someone. I was just too scared that it would be violent for me to bear. I had started talking with her more, but I still shared less. I slowly started learning how to cook with her though, it was fun and she felt less lonely.

I was around 16 when she threw up blood in front of me.

I had just completed my 10th standard and came back to Pune after a very long time. I was in this coaching class - Bakliwal, which had monthly tests

One of the scariest days of my life, this one still haunts me.

I was in 11th standard, so about to turn 16. It was around July end - Early August. One of the Sundays.

I was probably half asleep or experiencing a very normal sleep paralysis episode. I felt like I could hear someone calling out my name but I couldn’t get out of my bed. Suddenly I snapped out of it and realised it was all just a dream. But I could still hear someone, a very weak voice. When I got out of my room, the bathroom lights were the only ones that gave a little light from the creeks of the door, sunrise was at least an hour away. Curiosity got the best of me, I was convinced it was either one of my parents in there or a ghost.

It was my mum. She was actually calling out for help from my dad. I hurried up and unlocked the door with this knife trick my parents would use to scare me when I would take too long to get out of the bathroom. I saw her, she was kneeling down on the floor surrounded by blood chunks. She was holding the towel hanger in one hand and her other hand was resting on the floor for support.

As soon as I saw this, I ran and hurriedly woke my dad up. He isn’t really a light sleeper but I guess years of rushing to the hospital in the middle of the night gave him the habit of waking up at one go. He picked her up and once she was resting in, cleaned the bathroom floor. I was sternly asked to go and sleep.

This was all around 5 in the morning.

I woke up at 8 again, because of the same reason. This time it was less bloody because my mum threw up blood in the sink. This time, I was a little agitated and told my dad to drive her up to the hospital immediately. He pointed it out that it was a Sunday - she would probably be admitted and nothing else because most of her doctors are not usually available (this was from past experiences - so I did not question it further.)

After a while though, my mum herself said that she thought it would be better to get admitted there in case things got severe, so my dad respected that decision and started gathering all her medical records.

By then I was preparing to leave for my Bakliwal test in the afternoon -

I still remember what I was wearing that day. It was my deep blue Mandarin collar shirt and my grey Scullers skinny trousers. I also stole my dad’s belt to complete the look. I remember my mum’s outfit as well - It was her fav Pink kurta pajama with floral embroidery. I went up to her to tell her that she doesn’t have to worry about food and this and that, I will look after it, at least for myself. She was about to give me instructions - and she threw up. Right in front of me. She threw up blood like I could have never imagined. I couldn’t move, I did not scream. I just stood there. My father witnessed it too and helped her sit on the sofa just beside the main door. I was still there. It took a while to get a grip on myself. I walked up to get her water but looking at her, I knew she was in no state to take it. She kept vomiting. On the sofa, in the floor corridor, in the lift. My dad yelled at me that I needed to clean it up. Nothing could have prepared me for this. I was shivering. I did not know if I would see her again.

My maid got there and took the pochaa cloth from me. She told me to sit down and clean the entire thing while I kept thinking and telling myself don’t think about this, she will be back before you know it.

After an hour of calming down and eating, I left for the test, had fun, and cheated my heart out because I remembered nothing and I directly left for the hospital. It took me a while to notice that her blood stains were still on my trousers. It took 15 minutes more than usual, and when I got there, I couldn’t see her cause she was in the ICU.

When I got home after that with my dad, I did not feel like thinking. I just wanted to sleep and forget about this.

The next day they let me see her. Losing a lot of blood made it very hard for her to even talk to anyone but she kept requesting that she wanted to be out of there. She felt suffocated with all the needles around her and all the machines that were monitoring her.

I told her to stay quiet as politely as I could. I was not allowed to go near her because of strict hygiene rules so I told her to recover well and that I was waiting for her to get home.

Exactly before dozing off to sleep that night, my dad received a call from the hospital and was asked to stay. He gave me many instructions and locked the main door from outside and left within minutes of the call. I did not know what to do, so I just sat on the same sofa where she was resting before going to the hospital - while thinking about it, I drifted away in my dreams. My dad got back exactly at 6 in the morning and freshened up and made my tiffin, saw that I boarded the bus, and probably left for the hospital again.

This time when I got there I heard the doctor saying there was only a 30% chance that she’d make it, she needed to fight from within and I did not what to do. I just sat down and tried to distract myself. I told some of my friends about it. One sent me a porn site link accidentally instead of an academic site and the other one was so much in denial that he asked me to not joke about it. I just had nothing to say then, I just switched off my phone and waited. I took 3 days off from school back then - I started to get sick too.

My bua had been very vigilant about my mum ever since my grandpa died. She was the youngest kid and was most attached to him so she definitely got affected in ways I don’t even want to imagine. As soon as she heard about my mum, she straightaway got here from her place in Baroda. She stayed and kept me company. She fed me on time and made sure that I slept. She assured me that I was stronger than she could ever imagine. She does that even now. Soon, my mum got better too - and I was able to meet her once she shifted to a normal ward.

None of us knew at that time that my mum would fight something as insane as an intense blood vomit but would not be able to defend herself from high fever.