The Language of Love

“Kya naam hai?” I could hear Mummy ask our cleaning lady’s little girl her name, in Hindi. I wasn’t surprised when the girl responded, as Mummy had this knack of carrying on a conversation in a universal language of love. Our cleaning lady was surprised. “Oh, your mom speaks Portuguese?” When I said no, she explained “Qual é o seu nome?” is how one asks in Portuguese, which sounded very similar in Hindi. Though that day the question was phonetically similar, on other occasions, despite a language barrier, Mummy never stopped herself from getting her point across. She always had a kind tone, and kind words, wrapped in love, that everyone understood!

Of the umpteen values I learned from my second mother for the last almost-thirty years, the one I covet most is to be kind rather than right. Among a family of obsessive arguers, she was the calm one to cool down a heated argument. Though she was right many times, she never felt the need to say “I told you so”. She was never the one to bring up embarrassing mistakes, changing the topic at the right moment, or diluting it with a laugh or by bringing a positive defense to the rescue. When staunch truth-seekers got carried away by principle, crossing into emotional boundaries notwithstanding the wreck and collateral damage of their crusade, she offered the perfectly kind words of the calm arbitrator.

She lived in the moment, in the present! She embraced “Now”. Appreciating every little thing life had to offer. Positive, happy, content and grateful for what she had. Enjoying a simple life with her loved ones. On an overcast day, pulling people out of past regrets or future anxieties, into the present moment to enjoy the chai and pakoras, along with the fresh smell of rain. Her favorite spot was by the window in her room. With her impeccable eyesight, and keen awareness, she took in every little detail from the big picture window. Every season was a wonder! How, from a clear view of all homes around us through the stark trees in winter, the change in the landscape as it bloomed with her favorite flowers in spring, then transformed into a lush green panorama in summer, and the vibrant, flaming colors of the New England fall. Not having seen snow for most of her life, every snowfall brought a winter wonderland, right to her window.

Mummy's favorite Deity 
I was always amazed by her tolerance, patience and will-power. Not just her pain tolerance after having gone through and having to live with half a dozen bone injuries; but also how she was very flexible, accepting and progressive about new wave opinions and ideas. To her, people came before principle. I think her strong faith in God and earnest love for her family gave her the will-power to endure eighteen hour journeys across continents to be with us. I should’ve known, when after twenty years and a dozen visits to the US, this time when she went back to India, she packed all her belongings. She usually left some of her extra, winter stuff behind. I didn’t pay attention or take her seriously when she said she would not be visiting again. She was right yet one more time. Though her physical presence will be missed by the window, she will forever live with us through the memories of her language of love and kindness.





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