To Her With Love

This happened on one of those cloudy monsoon mornings last year as I was driving down to my work place. As usual, I tuned in to the old Hindi classics on FM radio to beat the crushing Monday blues. The slow rhythmic notes in Talat Mehmood's velvety voice floated in the air, filling my senses. ...Hain sabse madhur woh geet jinhe' hum dard ke sur mein gaate' hain.....I found myself roving along with these magical lyrics to a long forgotten place which was, my childhood! I had grown up listening to Talat's songs for years. Mum must have been one of his greatest fans, for I often heard her humming his songs in her own mellifluous voice - especially the one that was playing that morning. Her resonating voice kept ringing in my ears the whole day. I could feel her lingering presence all around me.
Remembrance is a powerful thing. Back in my college years when I was studying English Literature, I had read - "Our sweetest songs are those that sing of saddest woes." This incredible resemblance in the two pieces of poetry written in two different languages from two distinctly diverse cultures, spurred me on to explore further, its connection with my mother's life.
When I look five decades back I am filled with an unparalleled sense of pride at the way I was raised that has brought me to this stage. I was raised by a mother who always looked happy and upbeat. There was never a shadow of dull or sad moment hovering over us as far as I can recall - not that there wouldn't have been any. Yet, this question now intrigues me. "Where were those dark moments buried? Did mum swallow them all? Or else, how did all the sweetness in her voice come from after all?"
It wasn't until that morning that I had stumbled upon this realisation!
I have gathered fragments of my mother's life - anecdotes, testimonials, diary pages,
photographs from dusty albums and strung them all together to bring you an essence of her momentous life.