My Own Exclusive Masterpiece

Moms are not super

“SCHOOL”, Mama not “ESKOOL”, and they all laughed but I was embarrassed in front of my friends. I don’t know why Dad wants me to idolize her; she doesn’t even know how to speak in English and the world calls her superwoman. Just because she gets up an hour early, makes me some breakfast and send me to school, sorry “Eskool” do you think I should have a God like affection for her. I seriously feel that being a Mom is a highly overrated affair. The moment I was done with my jabbering I could see my dad’s palm coming flying in the air which got a rough landing on my cheeks. Literally, a flood came pouring down my cheeks which has its obvious source from my eyes. My Mom came running to hold me into her arms and wiped off my tears with the end of her saree. I thought that this is her little melodrama to earn those extra brownie points.

I was confused because I couldn’t understand what my father understood then, that I was a fool. Speaking in English doesn’t make her my Mom but understanding my unspoken words does, packing lunch for me does not make her my Mom but ensuring that I don’t go empty stomach does and waking up an hour early doesn’t make her my Mom but ensuring that I have a full sleep really does. She is no Superwoman but my Mom, exclusively mine and my own unique masterpiece.
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