A Dash of Spice Magazine | A Mother's Sacrifice
Mother's quietly make sacrifices all the time. Hardly a lament. Hardly a complaint. A brave face, a warm hug, putting everyone's need ahead of their own.
mother, day, sacrifice
3961
single,single-post,postid-3961,single-format-standard,ajax_updown_fade,page_not_loaded,

A Mother’s Sacrifice

 
Mother's sacrifice

A Mother’s Sacrifice

Posted by in Inspire 10 May 2015

Mother’s quietly make sacrifices all the time. Hardly a lament. Hardly a complaint. A brave face, a warm hug, putting everyone’s need ahead of their own.

Forty-four years ago in a tiny village of Chhajjalwaddi, Punjab, two sisters meet after the older (Nanto) had moved to Singapore and was visiting the family. What joy must it have been to hear stories of a land far away from home. Little did they know that that might have been their last meeting. The younger (Bachno) moved to Utter Pardesh and Nanto only ever visited Punjab on subsequent visits. They spoke of each other and accepted that they would never meet again.

I tried suggesting a few times to Mother that we visit her sister in Utter Pardesh and she would tell me that she was too old to travel to the remote village her sister lived in. Furthermore, she’d say “Where will we find her? So many years have gone by and no one knows where she lives.”


Little did I realise my mother too had been separated from her beloved sister for probably just as many years. But because she never spoke of her sister and her anguish of not seeing her, her pain was never felt. Probably not wanting to trouble us, Mother rarely spoke of her sister.

For years I’ve been watching news on television where they show family members from Japan or South Korea being reunited with their family members from North Korea and every time I’ll wonder what must it be like to be separated for so many years. Little did I realise my mother too had been separated from her beloved sister for probably just as many years. But because she never spoke of her sister and her anguish of not seeing her, her pain was never felt. Probably not wanting to trouble us, Mother rarely spoke of her sister. She never even once said, “I wish I could see my sister again.”

Then in February 2015, Mother visited Punjab again. She had three brothers, and the last surviving one passed away in the October of the previous year. So I brought forward her annual visit so that she could spend time with her other sister who lived in Punjab. Let them grieve over their loss, I thought to myself. Little did I know that my cousin Hardip had planned a surprise reunion for the sisters! He met my aunt Bachno at my uncle’s funeral in Utter Pardesh and exchanged numbers..and the rest is history.

I still remember the morning. There was a power failure and we were all sitting in the yard. Every time we heard the sound of the rickshaw, we’d get excited. And then, at about noon, the entourage arrived. I grabbed my camera which was on standby to capture the moment and started filming


No tears, no wailing. Just a long embrace. Just gratitude for that moment.

All morning I had been thinking to myself, “What will it be like when they meet after so many years? Will there be cries of joy, cries of losses, will there be wailing?” and so many other thoughts ran through my head.

No tears, no wailing. Just a long embrace. Just gratitude for that moment.

Finally, after 44 years, two sisters are reunited….

Your views