“You were a princess in your last birth,” said the wandering astrologer.
He was interpreting Mum’s frequent childhood dreams about snakes
guarding a treasure. He told her: “Those dreams subconsciously remind you of
the treasure that once belonged to you.”
Perhaps those early impressions explain why Mum always set high standards
and lived with princess-like perfection till her last day. Things were
occasionally a little comical and awkward when she expected the same perfection
from other members in our family.
Reminiscing about her now, suddenly it seems that the veil has been
lifted and we can see aspects of her personality which we had failed to
acknowledge while she was with us in person. With earnest brown eyes, curly
hair, sharp facial features, a marble-smooth soft olive skin, and a petite
super-active physical frame, Mum was an unconventional beauty.
During my childhood, she was the tigress who fought battles. When Rita used to eat the contents of my tiffin-box in primary school, it was Mum who marched into our classroom pretending to be a new teacher and gave Rita a sound warning. It was Mum who helped us with studies and taught us the practicalities of life. It was Mum who mustered up the courage to take us and a bunch of school children all the way to Mussoorie while having a stop-over in Agra, Delhi, and Mathura to admire the Taj Mahal, to walk the corridors of power and to feel the pulse of Lord Krishna’s leelas. It was Mum who strengthened my faith by stating that if she were to ever die, Mother Mary would take over as my Mum.
These days, condolence calls and visits which give insights into a side
of Mum which we never knew about are comforting and valuable to our family.
Leena called and told an anecdote which has been 'etched in her memory' since school days:
Mum had just opened the textbook to teach a poem. The school Principal
walked in with authority, asked the students a few questions about what was
happening in the class, then proceeded to summon a few students one by one to
recite the poem by heart. Of course, none of them could recite the poem which
was not yet taught in class.
The Principal arrogantly shamed the students and then turned to Mum and
asked, “Madam, do you know this poem by heart?”
Mum looked the Principal in the eyes and calmly replied, “No, even I do
not know this poem by heart.”
Leena said that with those words appreciation and respect for Ms.
Irene’s simplicity and honesty surged in her heart.
***
Baby Auntie walked in with tears flowing down her cheeks and spread her
arms around the cool glass case in which Mum’s mortal remains lay wrapped in a
pink saree amongst flowers. Owing to weakening bones, Baby Auntie does not
leave her house much these days. However, to pay last respects to Mum, she had
made the effort. She wept, “Ida bai, you sheltered my poverty, you guided my girls, you
gave me strength…”
Later, after the funeral, Baby Auntie, who has had more lessons from
life than from any school, held my hands and said, “My dear, now you must look
forwards, not backwards.”
***
The Archbishop of our town offered the mass at Mum’s funeral. Being her
distant cousin, he fondly referred to her as “Our Ida bai” and went on to tell
how she had been an inspiration to many in the village where they grew up
together. He elaborated on her educational achievements, her teaching career in
Mumbai and Vasai, her priceless contribution not only to the family but also to
the community.
It was the feast of the Guardian Angels that day. Mum always said
parents are our guardian angels on earth – they love us more than anyone else.
***
A few hours before Mum passed away, my niece June told me how grandma
had carved the letters ‘JUNE’ in the green lawn she had grown in the garden.
Mum was creatively blessed and her talent expressed itself in the most
unusual dimensions – the fashionable dresses she had hand-sewn for our cousin
Joan, the poems she wrote for our birthdays, the multiple Stars of Bethlehem
that bloomed in her care, the array of veg patties she fed us, the stories she edited
impromptu according to the purpose, the quilts, mats, cards, paintings…her PR
skills in maintaining ties with the extended family, her timely sense of
humour, the dreams and thoughts she shared with me in those moments of casual
thoughtfulness. In one of those daydreams, she had told me of her dream house
named ‘Binwynmin’.
***
Mum was a Giver – she liberally gave and gave and gave. During her last few days, she gave us the opportunity to serve
her. On her last day, she relished the meal Auntie Elvira had sent with Uncle
Joe, expressed delight at the sweet taste of the cough lozenge we slipped into
her mouth, napped in her baby blue mosquito-net canopy, gave the maid her
wages, remembered somebody’s birthday, held Dad’s hand, and peacefully breathed
her last.
***
As Mum’s kinswomen prepared her body for the funeral; her
grand-daughters, whose baby baths had been elaborate rituals of joy on Mum’s
bouncing knees once upon a time, applied coconut milk to her body. Later, the
girls spent some time with Dad so that he would not miss Mum. “We are energy
recycled” – they claimed. Yes, if we had to sum up in a word who mum was,
ENERGY is the word we would choose.
***
Gratitude heals our grief.
We thank God for the gift of such a dynamic mother, faithful wife,
loving sister and aunt, understanding mother-in-law, entertaining grandma, kind friend and beloved teacher.
We are grateful to all those who enriched her life, those who helped
during her last rites, those who came in person, called, texted and those who
prayed for her soul’s onward journey.
Our mother, Irene D’Cruz, was not only a Karmayogini but also a Jnanayogini with her tremendous
thirst for knowledge. In silence, she quickly bid farewell to this world – just the way she had desired, without
being a burden to anyone.
For us, physically, having been nurtured in her body, she is
wherever we are – our mothers never really leave us, do they? She radiates in Robin's speech and penchant for work; Merwyn's gentle brown gaze and helpfulness; my smile and the words that I string together today to write.
In the supernatural realm, we believe that our Mum, the princess that
she was, is in a better place – a perfectly beautiful place.
Amen
***
More posts about Mum:
https://freshmintandlemon.blogspot.com/2013/09/mums-sarees.html
https://freshmintandlemon.blogspot.com/2013/10/generations.html
