"Results" day was never just another day.
Right from my school days to my last MBA results.
Mother would wake up early, sit with her morning cup of tea on our verandah.
I would join her there.
Few words, an occasional clasping of our hands.
Both of us nervous, in spite of our confidence.
The weeks before that would have seen us pay our visit to the Namghars and temples in Guwahati.
Offering our prayers to the Powers above.
One of the things that had kept my Mother, my sister and me going was Hope.
These visits would end up in a sweet shop where we would have tea and a savoury or sweet because we would have left the house without eating, before we offered our prayers.
On the "results" morning, my mother and me would leave the house early.
Mother always took leave from work.
The waiting.
The other parents.
Students.
The lists.
The mad rush to the board where the lists were put up.
Mother always there before me.
Usually before anyone else.
The frantic look at the top.
She would never think of searching the list.
The relief.
The joy.
The shout of happiness.
The hug.
The congratulations.
The phone calls she would start making when we reached home.
Stopping on the way for boxes of sweets for guests.
The excitement with which she shared the news with family.
Yes, Mother made "results" day always special.
Till seven years back, she was the first person I would call whenever I achieved something at work.
And I knew she followed the same "results" ritual though we were in distant cities.
I missed her this Friday when I received a recognition as Senior leadership at work.
As all the phone calls and emails flowed, I almost waited for that one call.
Wishing I had that number that could reach out to her.
Only later did I realise that she was speaking to me through everyone.
Every congratulation I got was also hers.
Every email had her touch.
The hugs had that same warmth.
The flowers I received were like the ones in her garden.
The ones we love are always around.
We just need to look.
And believe.
Right from my school days to my last MBA results.
Mother would wake up early, sit with her morning cup of tea on our verandah.
I would join her there.
Few words, an occasional clasping of our hands.
Both of us nervous, in spite of our confidence.
The weeks before that would have seen us pay our visit to the Namghars and temples in Guwahati.
Offering our prayers to the Powers above.
One of the things that had kept my Mother, my sister and me going was Hope.
These visits would end up in a sweet shop where we would have tea and a savoury or sweet because we would have left the house without eating, before we offered our prayers.
On the "results" morning, my mother and me would leave the house early.
Mother always took leave from work.
The waiting.
The other parents.
Students.
The lists.
The mad rush to the board where the lists were put up.
Mother always there before me.
Usually before anyone else.
The frantic look at the top.
She would never think of searching the list.
The relief.
The joy.
The shout of happiness.
The hug.
The congratulations.
The phone calls she would start making when we reached home.
Stopping on the way for boxes of sweets for guests.
The excitement with which she shared the news with family.
Yes, Mother made "results" day always special.
Till seven years back, she was the first person I would call whenever I achieved something at work.
And I knew she followed the same "results" ritual though we were in distant cities.
I missed her this Friday when I received a recognition as Senior leadership at work.
As all the phone calls and emails flowed, I almost waited for that one call.
Wishing I had that number that could reach out to her.
Only later did I realise that she was speaking to me through everyone.
Every congratulation I got was also hers.
Every email had her touch.
The hugs had that same warmth.
The flowers I received were like the ones in her garden.
The ones we love are always around.
We just need to look.
And believe.
