I was that intransigent son, who gave his parents a really tough time in his teenage.
Probably it was adolescence or my company, which had hit my consciousness and sanity. Or maybe it was both of them. Whatever my parents would do for me, I would brand it all as their duty rather than being grateful for their love and the endless sacrifices they had been making for my comfort and better lifestyle.
By doing so, I had been demeaning their love, as an investment, they were making into me. My mind would tell me that they did it in the hope that when they grew older, I would take care of them in return. I know, that was a sick mentality. And, I feel seriously sorry for the way I had pained my parents with my rude and harsh behaviour then.
But, what was worse was that I would even express those thoughts on the face of my parents. I would never realize the ginormous pains and irritation I had been deluging their lives with. I wish I had been a better son to my parents in those days. I wish I would have given them much more than those scathing and unapologetic rants.
Like being a more grateful and polite son to them. Someone who would acknowledge their great sacrifices and return the love. I wish I had kissed my mother, and hugged my father way more than I used to. In fact, now that I think of it, those displays of affection also used to happen only when my demands being fulfilled by them. Else, I would hardly care.
Every time my parents would disagree to my ways of thinking, my mind would begin to conjecture, “These guys will never agree to me! They don’t think I am mature enough to make decisions for myself. They always impugn my thoughts just because I am a child.” My thoughts had been so corrupted and poisoned, that they even showed in my behaviour towards them.
My parents were always correct when they didn’t support my decisions back when I was 12. Because looking back, even the present me would not have supported the then me.
I always used to tell my parents, “I am 12, and I am mature enough.”
And, the problem was, “I didn’t even know what it exactly meant to be mature.”
And, so I would fight and argue with them on a day to day basis. And I would cry my eyes out every time my demands weren’t met. I was 12 then, and leading a life high on rage and shallowness. My thinking machine had been clouded by I don’t know what. I had simply stopped thinking right, and would only focus on pointing out the wrongs in everything that my parents would be doing for me.
Instead of being grateful for all they did, I would be too busy grousing over what they could have done better. And, that was me as a son, ten years back. I am 22 now and will be 23 this December 2017. And, I am delighted that things have changed in an absolute manner since. That guy is no more around. Now, his place has been taken over by a much more respecting and caring son.
A son who acknowledges it wide and loud, that he would have been nothing, if not for his parent’s benign love and altruist sacrifices. A son who understands that it was only love that they harboured in their heart for me. I have realized that I was a big fool every time I thought that it was all an investment so I would buttress them when they would get older.
I know I realized it all just too late. But, maybe not late enough. I have lost a parent in this course and will never again be able to express my love and gratitude for everything he did for me. On most metrics, my father really is the man I wish to evolve into. And, I wish I could tell him that on his face. I guess he would have been happy to hear that. I guess.
But anyways, that is for angels to know. Back to this world, I now have my mother here. And, I know that I had not been the son she deserved. But, now that I know what she must get out of me, I am striving every day to ensure that she gets just that. If anything, she must get to witness the best of me- A compassionate, loving and caring son. A son, who she could be a proud mother to.
And, I don’t just want her to be proud of me because she gave birth to me. Rather I want her to be proud of me for other mothers too would want to have a son as good as me. I know that is a long shot because I am not even close to being that good today. Maybe I never will be. After all, there is no finishing line which I have to specifically run towards to earn that pride.
Yet, it’s a great motivation. These emotions give a sense to my existence. These feelings drive in me the zeal to be a better person every successive day so I would keep getting closer to that ideal utopian self. After all that, my mother has done, and all that I have given her in the past, I guess she deserves nothing lesser now. And, that is the greatest difference between the 12-year-old me and 22-year-old me.
He thought his parents had a duty towards him. And, I think it is me who has a duty towards them. Bliss!
And, that was my Miracle Morning post for the day. I wrote about this because I am headed home today after a long time. It’s Diwali vacation and my dear mother awaits my arrival as excited and eager as I am to meet and greet her. I can’t wait to hug her and am thus brimmed to the top with emotions. I guess I have grown into an overly maudlin buff.
Wishing the earnest readers, a beautiful day ahead. Good morning and best wishes!