Mother

Home.

Every child says their mother is the best when asked. You're different because I'm not a child, and I still say you're the best.

My best childhood memories were with you – sitting together after school, sipping "chai ya rangi" to stay awake while you taught us. During holidays, you bought us new books so we could take part in the spelling bee competitions, ensuring we emerged victorious. Shillingi shillingi outings were topped with ice cream at Maua!

Every Thursday meant majlis, and an exciting fateha was a must. Daily chai sessions involved everyone sharing their day.

When I struggled with a topic, you patiently explained it, even if it was your first time learning it too.

These seemingly small acts shaped us to who we are today.

Now, a Thursday feels incomplete without reciting majlis. A day without spending time together doesn't feel right.

Growing up, I thought our routines were normal, but they're not. Sitting together for meals, having a close bond with your mom, having fun with her, and raising children who excel academically and spiritually, are not normal– you made it all the norm.

Your random jokes and funny stories bring joy to places in my heart I never knew needed them. They make my heart feel secured from all the pain in the world, they cradle my heart to a place that’s only filled with love and laughter- your love and laughter.

But when you're overwhelmed by sadness, all I want to do is bear it for you, to transfer all the pain you could ever feel, to me. Because even if the world's entire pain is on me, your smile can make it all seem insignificant, and your love will always overpower everything.

For every exam passed, competition won, prayer uttered, and good deed accomplished – it's all because of you.

When I thank God for an amazing mother, it's because of you I know how to.

And if HOME were a person it’d always be you…

It's always been you…