Skip to main content

Mom

Image
By
This is a chapter from my third book called Love letters

My mom is without a doubt the best mom in the world. I remember as a child waiting outside the toilet for my mom. I did not want to leave her side. So much was the attachment. The years that I had to go live by my uncle in San Fernando and the years I spent abroad were some tough and sad times. There was no Whatsapp in those days to keep in constant contact.

As a single mother she did her perfect best to ensure that we had a solid upbringing. She did not get to go to secondary school and that had been a dream of hers. She wanted to get her passes and secure a good enough job and make something of herself. In later years she would work for about ten years in the hospital taking care of the sick. A noble cause that she will be blessed for. She understood the power of education to change lives and she passed that down to us.

She was the reason I passed for my first choice and she was the reason I graduated university. I am contented that she was able to have her dream come through through me. She speaks highly of me to everyone and she brings out the best in me. I love that she never forgets where she has come from. I love that she is responsible and level headed and wants to see us do good. She has been there for me through my struggles with mental illness.

Life is not perfect and we have had moments of squabbles but this has been in the minority. My love for my mom is encapsulated in the good memories we share. All the trips to Tobago, the bus rides to San Fernando, spending our last money on Food Drop delivery, that time I made her walk from the fort to Scarborough, cosy nights in my New York studio, days in the park and teaching me how to make sugar cake.

In Islam it is said that the doors of heaven lies at the feet of our mothers. My mother talks the talk and walks the walk. The soles of her feet have known struggle. She has stood the test of time. Her soul is a beautiful little lamp that lights the way for me and my sister. My love for my mom is as everlasting as time. Each beat of my heart whispers your name. Mom, my love for you is forever the same.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A pot of callaloo

By
Call for Submissions: Archipelagic Entanglements   https://singaporeunbound.org/opp/archipelagic-entanglements When I saw the call for submissions online I was doubtful. I do not know enough history. I do not understand the topic. Then after chatting with my friend Chatty I realised maybe I can be the topic. My ethnic and racial makeup is an archipelagic entanglement. Colonialism meets indentureship meets slavery. My mom is East Indian muslim and my dad is French, Portuguese and Mulato christian and who knows what else. I am an example of a pot of callaloo. Everyone's favorite Sunday lunch. I am what happens when lineages cross oceans and histories collide. I am thinking to myself now, what is the message I want to put forward with my blog post? What is the direction I want to take? Maybe it is this. What can we do when we have such a rich heritage and know so little of our own history? First of all I do not think I am alone with this struggle. I did not realise this until I though...
Post a Comment
Read more

Cup of coffee

By
This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . The cool morning breeze blew the hat off the tourist passing the coffee shop. We sat at the table waiting for our order of coffee and bagels. I had stayed up late writing and was now needing caffeine to stay awake. On entering the veranda of the coffee shop, the sign reads "happiness is a cup of coffee" and "sip your troubles away". This had me thinking about what is happiness? And was the theme of my chat with Chatty as we enjoyed our breakfast in Tobago. I told my friend Chatty that if we could put happiness in a bottle and sell it we would be rich. My friend Chatty then told me that money cannot buy happiness but it was a good idea to make a living. If according to the sign, happiness is a cup of coffee then maybe happiness is coffee in a bottle then. We could call it Caffibean, a taste of the Caribbean in Tobago, a blend of the happiest coffee beans from Tobago. Tobago is not known for its coffee p...
Post a Comment
Read more

Sandy beaches

By
This is a chapter from my latest book called Breezes of Tobago . This story begins on a cool Friday evening in May. Fridays are the best days. Already a great start. It had rained earlier in the day and the clouds were moving away and the sun peeking through. I walked from the apartment where I was staying to Pigeon Point beach. Along the way I stopped for coconut water freshly extracted from the nut and straight into my mouth leaving traces on my cotton jersey. They say that coconut water is the drink of God—fresh from the nut, sweet with a hint of salt, a liquid reminder that paradise can exist in small and simple things. They did not say that but my friend Chatty did. It is my friend Chatty's first trip to Tobago. I asked him what he thinks of Tobago so far? He grinned, wiping a drop of coconut water from the corner of his mouth. "Man… it is like stepping into a painting. The air, the colors, the way everything smells after the rain—it is unreal. I did not know paradise cam...
Post a Comment
Read more