NO I am not a freak child of multiple mothers nor am I an orphan adopted by several kind souls. But this Mothers’ Day I realise that there are a lot of women I have to thank for their motherly love, for their matriarchal affection and for their very generous hearts.

Of course the day is the day when I celebrate my natural birth mother first and most. She was a grand old lady and what she did for me was amazing. Being an uneducated girl from a village she could easily have left me to learn lessons by myself but this lady learnt not just English and the Sciences but also mastered Hindi. Just so that she could be of help to me. In the process she instilled in me the confidence that there was nothing in the world that we could not do if we set our minds to it. She had the same attitude when it came to food, to books and what have you. So the village girl learnt all about international cuisine and churned out several masterpieces. She read up enough books to sustain a library and the acts of courage and passion and love went on. From simple mugs of hot coffee at 3 am in the morning so I could study to everything from pickles and jams that I so adored. That was Mum in a slice. As a whole she was a devastating package and to her I shall always remain grateful.

Then there were the other mothers. Friends’ mothers. Ladies who adopted me only because I was their son’s classmate. The kind of food I was blessed to eat is a direct result of motherly love that these ladies showered on me. Then of course there were the girl friends who mothered us through teenage. Especially the girls we were just friends with. How many break ups did they see us through. How many heart breaks did they help us get over.

An interesting aspect of motherhood was demonstrated by several secretaries around the country who seem to have adopted me at different stages of my life. From making sure I was eating on time to eating right these girls made my travelling job a mite stable.

The wife they told me was every woman rolled into one. She was the wife, the harlot, the friend, the sister, the boss, the servant and the mother. But it is in her role as the mother that I see her depth and infinite wisdom.

The ultimate mothers of course are the daughters. They have grown up from dependent babies to independent nurturers and in the process have become lovingly protective and overbearingly disciplinarian.

So to all the ladies who have mothered me – thank you Mas. Your role in my life I shall never forget. And Mom, my real Mom – you are the best. Love you all.