Post #127 – Women’s Memoirs, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
Congratulations to a Women’s Memoirs-Memoir Writing Contest Winner
We have three Honorable Mentions in our May Memoir Writing Contest that featured the topic of mothers. Jamuna Advani won one of these three privileged awards in the MOTHERS AND MOTHERING category.
Congratulations Jamuna on your award-winning memoir vignette.
A Mother’s Pain
By Jamuna Advani
Shillong, Meghalaya, India.
It began as an ordinary day, 8th April, 1981. I sipped my cup of tea still sitting in my bed, and scanned the morning’s newspaper. Then I got up, took my shower, and finally said my prayer, sitting in front of the altar in my room.
Yaima, our domestic helper, came in and announced, “Breakfast is ready ma’m.”
He knew what I usually liked for my breakfast — just one piece of toast, a fried egg, and a glass of orange juice. By the time I finished breakfast, tea was served. Tea was usually mixture of Darjeeling and Assam teas. This combination of the two gave a pleasing strong flavor and dark color. That was my only cup of tea for the morning. Around 4 pm, one more cup of tea my final one for the day. Tea was my favorite drink. I never developed a taste for wine, beer, or whisky, which were the main drinks for my husband and his circle of friends.
My oldest daughter, Lata had just gotten married at the age of 18 and lived in Toronto, Canada with her husband Ram. Our three other children were in boarding schools in Darjeeling, a hill town in the foothills of the Himalayas. Anita, the youngest one was in Mt. Hermon School, while Shobha was in Loreto College, and our son in St Paul’s School. Since I was alone most of the time, as my husband was always traveling for work, I had time to get involved with organizations like Eastern India Women’s Association and Stoneyland Ladies Club, which raised funds to help children in the villages and hospitals. It was a lovely April day and I intended to do some volunteer work. But a telegram from Toronto marred my bright day and turned it into a storm.
The postman came to our house and Yaima said I needed to sign for the telegram. I came to the front door, signed, and received the telegram. Impatiently I opened it, curious to see what was the message. My eyes could not believe the contents, “Come and take Lata back.” It was sent by Ram, our son-in-law.
He had sent it as if Lata was a pet that he no longer wanted to keep. Since my husband Rup was away, I had to think about what I needed to do.
I immediately decided to call Lata. During those days we had to book the call through a telephone operator and it usually took some time to connect. Luckily I got through sooner than expected. I could hear the voice from the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Lata, is it you? It is Mom.”
“Yes Mom, I am here.” It was the voice of my daughter and she was sobbing. As a mother I could feel a young woman’s agony, the voice strangled with pain. It was the lull before the turbulent storm coming in her young married life.
