My mother had this habit. She found it really hard to throw out that tube of toothpaste. She insisted that we squeeze it from the back – and I always got chided for mishing-mashing it somewhere at the centre! One fine day our human eye would believe that the paste is over and we would ask her for a new tube. Mother would be horrified! She would neatly iron out the tube – like she were ironing her favourite Kancheervaram sari, and roll it from the back to squeeze out more from it. “See I told you.”She would say triumphantly when indeed more paste gushed out from it. Magically more and more paste would come out. And this would go on for another week! At the end of which we would scream in protest and she would reluctantly conjure up a new tube.
This really is how she was with everything.
Those days my father had started his own business and money was not free flowing. My brother and I were too small to realize the repercussions of dad not having a steady income. And mother made sure that we never did feel it.
When the detergent packet got over – she rinsed it twice over with water and extracted the last grain of soap from it. When bournvita jar was nearing its end, she poured hot milk into it and ensured that every last morsel went into our cup. She kneaded atta in the vessel in which dal was cooked so that no dal was wasted. No dabbas were thrown out. Ever. In our kitchen we never had fancy storage dabbas. It was always reused, recycled stuff. So sugar would be in bournvitajar, salt would be in horlicks jar, mustard would be in the jam bottle, jeera would be in yet another jam bottle…and so on.
I also remember, those days we used to get new clothes twice a year. Once for our birthday and once for Diwali. This was a momentous occasion for us! We had no idea how much mother had to save up to give us those little moments of happiness. She had yet another recycled dabba into which she stowed away some money every day. A 50 p one day. One rupee another day. Whatever she could save up she did. This is how fancy, new clothes were bought for us. Even our father got new clothes on these occasions. It never struck any of us to buy her new clothes – and she never did buy any for herself.
If Mother ever dreamed of having a fancy life she never did let it show. She never complained. Her life revolved around our happiness. It was as simple as that. Today my brother and I understand the sacrifices she made for us. And we try to make up for it – but really she does not expect us to. When I feel discontented with my life I think of her and I feel ashamed of my unending list of ‘needs’.
Even today Mother toils for the family. Like that tube of toothpaste she bends over backwards and squeezes herself out. And I know there is so much more selfless love in there waiting to be released…
