Why Was I Born Here?

4 years ago

When I was young it seems I often asked my mother, “Why was I born here, in this house, as your son and not somewhere else?”

Apparently in a Tamil movie I saw, a child badgers his mother with this question and I repeated his act.

Also I had two brothers who were much older to me. I was frequently bullied by them and always treated as a tiny-tot. I often wished I were an only child.

So I asked this question, “Why was I born here, in this house, as your son and not somewhere else?”

My mother being very imaginative fabricated a tale to appease me. She used to tell me this beautiful story of why I was born as HER son and not someone else’s son.

This is her story in her own words:

God made you, a beautiful child. Then he called your Guardian Angel and asked him to find a lovely home to place you in.

The Celestial Being went hither and thither searching for a home for you.

None of the houses seemed to please him

He thought to himself, “This is a very special child. He needs a very good mother to nurture him and love him”

The Angel looked about in different countries and then came to India. He searched in Mumbai, Delhi, Calcutta and many cities in India and finally settled on Chennai.

In Chennai, he went through street after street and selected our street and then our house.

He peered into our house and saw me with your two brothers and said, “What a lovely mother! This is the ideal mother for this child. SURELY this child needs a mother like her to bring him up well.”

Then your Guardian Angel told God about me. God said, “Alright. So be it”

“And Praise be to God, you were born as my son”

My mother used to tell me this story often. I have sat before her enthralled and lapped up this tale countless number of times. I used to love it.

When I was thirteen years old, my father DIED.

My mother was shattered. She clung to her three sons for support. My mother and I grew closer.

When my brothers went to different cities to take up new jobs, my mother was left with just me.

Mine was the shoulder she wept on and mine was the hand that steadied her when she faltered.

Though yet a teenager, I became the man of the house. I was the one who switched off the lights at night and locked the doors. I was the one who reminded her to pay the bills on time and booked the car for service. I talked to the plumber, electrician and mechanic when something was amiss. I stood by her, seeing to every little detail when my two brothers got married.

When I found her getting bored and depressed, I taught her the wonders of the Internet, which opened up a whole new world for her.

Most of all, I was always there for her.

My mother on her part helped me achieve my dream of becoming a doctor.

I am now twenty-four years old. On May 6th 2013, it would be eleven years since my father passed away. We do not moan his loss as sadly as before. We recollect past events and laugh at the funny moments.

I reminded my mother of the story she used to tell me as a kid, as to why I was born as her son.

Then my mother said that there was more to that story. She said that she had not realized the real climax to that story then. The story has a different ending.

And she finished the story now.

Your Guardian Angel told God that you needed a lovely mother like me.

“This boy needs this mother.” The Angel informed God.

But God in His Infinite Wisdom looked far into the future and said,

“It is the other way round.  SURELY this mother will need  THIS loving child.”

So you were born as my son!

And I thank God every day that you were born as my son.

When my mother ended the story, there was a quiver in her voice and tears in her eyes.

I wiped away her tears and hugged her.

Whether I needed her more as a child or she needs me more now, I cannot say.

But I am glad that I was born here, in this house, as HER son and not somewhere else.

Gulsum Basheer   http://talkalittledo.wordpress.com/

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