An Ode To My First Teacher - My Mother

My mother introduced me to a Henry Wadsworth Longfellow quote when I was in Grade 12. It read, “The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.”  She taught for more than 30 years in Kanpur and remains my first and most inspiring teacher. She introduced me to the enchanting world of books, from fairy tales to timeless classics. Thanks to her, my love for reading was nurtured at a very young age. She often bought me some of the best books from the school’s Scholastic book fairs and the Universal Book Store in Kanpur.

My mother’s dedication and resilience have always left me in awe. She used to wake up at 4 am every day to prepare lunch, and manage all the household chores without any help from a maid. At the age of 58, she rode her Activa scooter to school every morning at precisely 6:28 am. After a full day of teaching, she would return home to cook dinner and then dive into her school-related work, often staying up until 2 am long after I had fallen asleep. Yet, despite such a gruelling schedule, she would rise again at 4 am to start her day with the same unwavering energy.

My mother was my best friend. I confided in her my deepest sorrows and joys. She was ahead of her time and instilled confidence in me. She believed in good karma and treated everyone with kindness. When I was little, she recorded my voice on cassettes, capturing my poems while gently guiding me if I stumbled. Despite her busy schedule, she took me to a studio to document milestones in my life, from my six-month photo to my first day of school. We loved watching women-centric movies together, and I fondly remember her joy while watching "Legally Blonde," the last movie we enjoyed together.

She was incredibly considerate, patient, and strong—a single mother who shielded me from the harshness of the world and raised me with unwavering love and determination. I wish I had understood the immense challenges she faced while raising me. She took out an education loan to ensure I had the best possible opportunities and made my childhood and teenage years memorable and joyful.

We shared a bond that felt more like sisters than mother and daughter. We led disciplined and independent lives, which many found difficult to comprehend. Some even envied our friendship and the strength we drew from each other. My mother is Durga, Kali, and Chamundi, embodying the strength and resilience every woman possesses. She showed me that women don’t need external validation or support to thrive; they are powerful on their own.

Now, it is my turn to shield myself as she once protected me. I strive to embody her strength and resilience, to be my own savior. I wish she could have stayed a little longer so I could have given her the happiness she deserved.

To me, she was more than a mother; she was my God. I don’t need temples to seek happiness because her spirit watches over me. I know she is with me, and I hold onto these lines from a poem I once read:

“Dust thou art; dust was said of the body, but not of the soul.”

I just want her to be happy wherever she is. Her love and strength will always be my guiding light.

Komal Nadig is a freelance journalist and a writer based in Bengaluru. Views expressed by the author are their own.