Malavika’s Mumbaistan: Mum’s The Word

For more people than I will ever know, my own mother, the late Usha Rajbans Khanna, who ran the erstwhile Café Samovar, the artsy verandah- shaped café at Kala Ghoda for fifty years, was an iconic figure

All mothers are great.

Malavika’s Mumbaistan: Mum’s The Word

Everyone’s mum is ‘the best mum in the world’. And on Mother’s Day, make that ‘the bestest mum in the world’ .

You will see them all today, peering out of sepia-toned portraits on social media posts: slim- waisted two -plaited, teenage mothers, awkward in their first sari at a college social; mothers with Sadhana- type fringes and high heels shoes, posing shyly at airports, besides the Air India mannequin, on their way to exciting international destinations; Feisty, freedom -fighter mothers, in army fatigues and idealistic zeal, their heads tilted to a better tomorrow; domestic, retiring mothers swaddled in shawls, hiding from the camera’s eye; determined mothers receiving their Phd degrees at foreign universities; earth mothers, seated in ancient village homes and huts, with dappled sunlight in their eyes ; glamorous mothers, flaunting long cigarette holders in manicured hands; young mothers, old mothers…

Today we will eulogise them, share their unique life histories and post their cherished photographs, in order to tell each other why we love them and in many cases miss them so much.

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And why not? For most of us, a mother’s love is the closest we will ever come to experiencing selfless, unconditional love, love that is all -encompassing, ever-nurturing, non-transactional and boundless. After all, it is long believed that a mother’s love is the strongest force known to man; that ‘Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of little children’; that a mother places her children’s happiness before her own and never rest until she’s made every effort in her power to protect and safeguard them; and of course that a mother is the truest friend a child has.

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For more people than I will ever know, my own mother, the late Usha Rajbans Khanna, who ran the erstwhile Café Samovar, the artsy verandah- shaped café at Kala Ghoda for fifty years, was an iconic figure. Tall and graceful, with kindness and warmth along with tea and toast, for five decades she’d met and nurtured a multitude of city slickers, her dazzling smile and graceful demeanour, a leitmotif in the city’s collective memory. ‘Countless are the stories narrated by perfect strangers of my mother’s thoughtfulness and empathy, her consideration and kindness to perfect strangers; how she always had a smile on her face, an ear for someone’s tale, of woe or a word of encouragement for a lost soul.’

But what many don’t know is the sheer courage behind my mother’s public persona. My mother had started Samovar in the mid -sixties, at a time when women seldom left the security of their homes and certainly, very rarely as entrepreneurs.

This was almost a decade before women’s lib or feminism had been known in these parts. Starting a café with no prior experience had been an act of immense valour, but my mother had done it for the noblest of reasons: so that her three children, my siblings and I, could have the best education and childhood possible and so that her talented and idealistic husband, an award -winning idealistic documentary filmmaker, could pursue his creativity, unhampered by the pragmatic exigencies of providing for a young family.

Thus, putting aside her own needs and ambitions, my mother, who was a gifted writer, from a family of writers, had set aside her own dreams and writerly ambitions, had rolled up her sleeves and got to work, often under very gruelling circumstances, in order to give her family the best life she could imagine, often at the cost of her own happiness and health.

That she had done this with such a sense of exuberance and joy is what makes her even more of a heroic figure.

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I often wonder how and why my mother did it. How had this simple, sensitive girl from the mountains of Kashmir, risen above what must have appeared to be insurmountable circumstances, in a city as alien as Mumbai, travelling daily by bus, train and cab, to attend to work, leaving her brood behind many miles away? Where had she found the courage to go out into the world and forge a brilliant enterprise and career for herself? What had spurred her on, day after day, decade after decade, to show up, ever-smiling, ever- welcoming, spreading her particular brand of warmth and kindness to so many?

And this is the answer I get: having lost her own mum when she was just a child, a motherless child I believe ancient wisdom had guided my Mum, a motherless child herself, had shown her how to live her life. It had been the lodestar of ‘Mother- love’ and having never experienced it and having yearned for it all her life -it had made her a mother to the world.

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The more I think about it, I realise that the driving force in my mother’s life had been her own motherly, nurturing instincts-for her children and family of course- but also -having herself grown up without it, she had instinctively known, how much it was required by every human being in this world and thus had lived her life according to this tenet.

Acutely aware of the searing absence of a mother’s love, my mother had become a mother to the world.

Yes, there had been enormous sacrifice on her part and it had often been a very hard life, but it had brought my mothers so much joy, gratitude and love in return. And had given us her children, not only the best childhoods, but also a lesson in life, love and living: that, regardless of whether you are a mother, or have a mother, all those of us who remember our mothers with gratitude, love and aching in our hearts, can resolve to bring the qualities of a mother’s love into our lives and into our interactions with people, in the same way as we were privileged to experience them in our own lives.

Because, just as we are all universally children of mothers, the universal (and poignant) truth of life is that at some point or the other, we all become motherless children ourselves Motherless children, needing to be loved, understood, championed, protected, nourished and nurtured.

It is an inspiring thought and on a day when we so lovingly remember our mothers, a day when we cherish, eulogise and celebrate mothers and motherhood – let us resolve to be mothers to the world - and ourselves in the same way as our mothers had.

I know it will make my mum (and I’m pretty sure yours too) very happy.

Happy Mother’s Day!