It only takes a Mother - for Mother's Day

If you're reading this, then I believe you're in the age group to understand how unpredictable life can be. 

You also would know that I am probably stating the obvious. But, take a moment and imagine this – You were once connected to your mother via a cord. Now this cord kept you alive during the 9 months your mother raised you in her womb. It can be argued that life probably starts at birth, but I believe your relationship with your mother started when she conceived you. 

Unlike most of the peers I grew up with, I lost my father when I was 8 years old. My age probably allowed me the luxury to not feel the pain of losing Abbu, while being cushioned in the unconditional love and care of my mother. 

She, like a valiant soldier, raised me with the love of a mother and a father. While I can confidently say she has struggled immensely, dealing with oscillating thoughts of the future, she ensured I never got wind of her struggles. 

I cannot imagine how overwhelming it must be for a woman to raise a child all on her own, but it was inspiring to see how Ammu did it seamlessly. Coming from an immediate family of three, after Abbu's passing, it was only Ammu and I who comprised of "The Family". 

The author and his late mother, Afroza Ahmed. Photo: Courtesy

From ensuring my education was provided for, to meeting my whimsical wishes, Ammu left no stones unturned to facilitate my growth towards becoming an independent individual. 

While growing up posed innumerable challenges, I was instilled with the strength to face it, because I saw Ammu dealing with her challenges, head on. There were instances when she would break down because of a financial crisis, and being the religiously devoted person she is, she would vent her frustrations to Allah. It was peaceful to watch her pray five times a day. 

While on a regular day I would sleep in my room, sometimes I would wake up in the morning during Fazr, to see the lights of her room, on. I would know she is up for her prayers, and it was enough to know she is alright. And, if her lights were off, I would still go into her room and check if she is breathing properly. Once I would know she is sleeping comfortably, I would retire to bed. Honestly, Ammu would do the same too. 

The interdependence between Ammu and I is extremely strong. I would often tell Ammu how my biggest fear in life is to lose her, because I can't imagine a life without her presence in it. And as a testimony to that, in the 28 years of my life, I have probably not even spent 28 days away from her. It grew naturally in me that no matter where I would be, I have to return home to Ammu. It was always peaceful to return home and see Ammu, waiting anxiously, so that I would have the food she cooked. She hated it if I brought food from outside. 

I strongly believe having ambition in life is crucial. And while my ambition in life was to make my mother's life more comfortable, the process helped me further my cause in achieving and expanding my potential significantly. When I landed my first job after university, I bought a 55-inch Samsung QLED television for Ammu. 

While I played the scenario differently in my head, Ammu responded by panicking when I surprised her with the television. She was too concerned that it was an extravagant purchase, but in my eyes, I couldn't wait for her to experience her Z-Bangla series in QLED television. 

The following year I bought a washing machine (because I hated her arguments with her helping hand over washing clothes) and a Micro-Oven for her at the same time. This worried her a lot more than the television. But as it turns out, and the way I anticipated, all these purchases made her life significantly more comfortable and she was incredibly relieved. 

Nothing in life was as remotely rewarding as this experience of having your mother say "Moyeen Baba, thank you for showering me with all your love". 

I knew this was just the start to many more to come, until 2023 kicked in. 

Ammu had been suffering since 2022 from a very chronic disease called "ILD – International Lungs Disease". While her family had a history of lung problems, I never imagined I would lose Ammu to this. 

She was defiant and strong while battling her condition, and it was extremely painful to watch a person who was a living example of courage, strength and fortitude for me, turn fragile and weak. She is the light that illuminated my life, every day, because only by knowing that I could return home to Ammu, was all the fulfilment I could ever ask for. She was the guide, and fuel behind my ambition to achieve success in my career. 

While I tried my utmost best to save her, and I still believe I could have done a lot more, I lost her on 14 November 2023. 

Mother's Day was something Ammu would treasure a lot. In 2022, I brought her flowers which she accepted with the warmest and child-like smile, that overwhelmed me with joy. 

You see it's not always about loving someone, but it's so much more important to be able to receive love. Ammu, was the person who would receive my love wholeheartedly, and the validation that followed, was everything that perhaps brought sense to the meaning of life. 

I have tremendous respect and admiration for all the mothers I have had the good fortune to meet. Mothers have a divine power to heal the wounded with just their mere presence. 

On the occasion of Mother's Day, I owe my life to my mother, and I hope she continues to see life from my lenses for as long as I live. 

This is to immortalise a mother, Afroza Ahmed, who loved her son beyond any rationality.