Skip to main content

Morphed Love

Red at the Bone is not my kind of book but even so, it was worth browsing through it. Ran into this line for instance that holds a deep meaning for me. It comes in the context of a bunch of ninth graders challenged to think about the image of Christ hung to the cross and left to die. They had to think "Literal or Metaphoric. Truth or Fiction." The narrator takes says:

.But now I knew there were so many ways to get hung from a cross—a mother’s love for you morphing into something incomprehensible.,

A mother's love is a very complex thing. It took me close to four decades to make sense of my mother's love for me. It involved setting up figurative walls, moats, bridges and dams to deal with its heedless flow. It is indeed love but expressed in ways that can be destructive if the recipient does not know how to channel it. 

My my case, I was salvaging what was left of my life at that point when I came to such realization. I have learned as a mother myself that my love for J is a product of what I come from and my life experiences. It took the separation in the form of her leaving to another country for college that I was able to begin the process of releasing us both from that baggage. I think I know what it feels like to be hung from the cross of a mother's love.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cheese Making

I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...

Part Liberated Woman

An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...

Under Advisement

Recently a desi dude who is more acquaintance less friend called to check in on me. Those who have read this blog before might know that such calls tend to make me anxious. Depending on how far back we go, there are sets of FAQs that I brace myself to answer. The trick is to be sufficiently evasive without being downright offensive - a fine balancing act given the provocative nature of questions involved. I look at these calls as opportunities for building patience and tolerance both of which I seriously lack. Basically, they are very desirous of finding out how I am doing in my personal and professional life to be sure that they have me correctly categorized and filed for future reference. The major buckets appear to be loser, struggling, average, arrived, superstar and uncategorizable. My goal needless to say, is to be in the last bucket - the unknown, unquantifiable and therefore uninteresting entity. Their aim is to pull me into something more tangible. So anyways, the dude in ques...