What would I like to be remembered for?

The first question the book of life wants me to answer...

If there is only one thing I would like to be appreciated for - it is for having been the best mother I could be. In the process, I have probably compromised on being a better daughter, a more loving wife, a more connected sister, and many other roles that I could have played better.

And this is not to claim that I have not made my mistakes in parenting. I have been impatient where I could have given a situation more time and love. I have been more demanding where I could have let go. I have been less mindful of parental controls on the new age items of life- like technology or phones or even screen viewing and games.

But my love and values have been unconditional and uncompromising. 

My children have always, always come first and before anything else that life could throw at me, or float almost like a feather in my direction- almost on the soft currents of a non-existent air current. Floating simply because it can do nothing else. Aways reminding of an angel close by.

I have been an equal part of her karate fights and wins and losses as she has been. I have learned at the least as much of what karate can and does accomplish in the life of a student. For one, it taught me to stay in my head. And slow the time I needed to live more of. It taught me that karate- like many other things in life is a matter of the heart and the soul. It is in the head as a force that is strong- when I make it so. That is weak when I make it so. And that this force will disappear the moment I say it is not present. It taught me that any learning is a life long learning. 

And we may get hurt sometimes- but we will always be able to pick up our broken pieces and put them together again, and let the fight begin another day. And it taught me that you never never never turn your back on an adversary. And you never hit a person who is down, or who has turned his back. You never hit to hurt- only to protect.

It has taught me that each learning/ practice session can and should end in deep reflection. The silence is good for the soul. But that making a sound improves your force and efficacy. That the wisdom is finding the right balance between the two.

Karate that she practiced made me believe in humanity- and goodness, and in being a winner even in the face of a loss. A person who could hold her head high and let the teardrop from the corner of the eye because she did not do as well as she thought she could... and stand anyway.

Karate taught me that you never fight someone who is smaller or weaker than you... you do all you can do make the world a better place where you do not have to fight.

Where the force always stays strong.

And I learned all this from sitting in the bylanes and watching my baby girl 'play' the game. With grace, with perseverance and with love and dedication that you often do not see in a 4-year-old, or a fourteen-year-old! I have cried tears of joy at every point scored, every win won, and of sadness and regret at each point lost. I have felt my heart float out into the arena when she was there- pitted against someone bigger or better- and known she was the best I could have done! And my daughter has always been the pride of my life.

And...

I have crawled on the floor and danced to stupid notes and even watched the same movie three times a day, six days a week because my son wanted to. With grace, and good humor. I have carried him in my arms till I could- and still carry him and her in my heart when they have outgrown my arms and my strength to carry them physically.

As Much as I loved the sporty Saniya, I love the intellectual Moksh, too. 

The fascination with the numbers, thrill of discovering possibilities the Universe, rapture of a new piece of music played to perfection- the white shirt sleeve and the formal black trousers that told me that my son is now a grown man... the hug that still warms me and him, the nightly ritual of reading that still tugs at my heartstrings and the deep connection that I feel with both of them...

With music, too I have learned much in my life. I have learned that not everyone can do everything! If all could play or compose like Mozart, who would be the people who sit and listen and admire each note of beauty? I can be a spectator... thrilled at the accomplishment of what was once my flesh and blood and when it came to the world- so tiny and so vast simultaneously that the world can actually be contained in a molecule of a moment. 

And that creativity rears its head at odd times and artists have their own method. Their own madness. As do several others in their own madness. That anything worth doing at all is worth doing well- with total dedication and devotion...that makes the deed divine. And every moment lived so becomes a moment that stops Time. 

And time can stop.

I have learned that life can be soft and flowy like the Moonlight Sonata or loud and cathartic like The Fear Inoculum. And it is for us to experience a moment- live it- create it in the image that we desire. That we WILL. Not everyone will like everything and if we can be true to our deeper Self- and not jarr someone else's sense of Self doing it, we can all sing and dance. 

When I am with Moksh- time does stop. Each word that he speaks, each feeling that he feels, each emotion that he shares, each frustration that stops him, each challenge that slows him- each moment of his life- I am present.

When some of my friends say that they regret not having spent more time with their children because they did not realize when the babies grew up into adults who did not want them or need them- I have only four words to say. 

I have no regrets.

I have no regrets.

I have always been there.

And I remember the little moments and the big ones.

I have always been a committed mother.

And I have- hopefully- taught my children the value of being honest, and of being committed. Of caring beyond the normal call of duty. Of never, never, never treating their relationships - with people and with their work casually.

I hope I have taught them that life will not always be easy- but that the sun will rise again- each day even if the day today seems dark and dank and bleak- the sun does rise. The world keeps on spinning and we can carry on. Sometimes life will kick you in the gut, and it will hurt. Deep. In the solar plexus. Knock your breath out kind of kick. With a grunted harrumph... we must get up and stand up again.

And I hope that I have taught them that there is no substitute to love. 

No short cuts to building a life that matters.

And as the famous poem says- it is all in how well you live the dash.