It seems strange writing a letter to you when you are right here in front of my eyes.
But some voices of the heart are not quite able to travel uphill to the lips and it’s better to let them stay in the comfort of the ink. And since you know your mamma quite well, you will sympathise with my rusty lips.
You must be wondering what this letter is about. It’s for you and what you have blossomed into. All mothers are proud of their children, but what I feel for you is more than pride. It’s gratitude for letting me wear this crown of pride. Like all new age mothers, I tried to flood your hands with everything that didn’t caress my hands.
But you always kept your small head above the waters, never letting those indulgent waves reach your head. You never put your feet down for something for which we would have to drag our feet. You always opened your hands for giving, never training them to seek something in return. The world lived in your tiny hands. That was more than what I had gifted your hands with, and I cannot thank you enough for overwhelming my hands with pride.
Even as a small child, you always thought of others before yourself. Today, when I see you taking care of your younger sister, I know that she will always be taken care of when I am not there with you two. The way you silently bear her tantrums or her every minute complaints speaks volumes of the gentle petals of your heart. Or when your eyes well up when she gets a good hearing from me or your abba leaves me with no words for the limitless boundaries of your love.
When I see you playing with our house help’s daughters, I am relieved that you have learnt the lesson of humanity so young. At a time when your friends have a good time throwing casteist and racial slurs, you chose to give them a slice of humanity.
Yes,you are fond of princesses and fairy tales, but you have never grown up to be a damsel in distress. In fact, you have turned out to be the knightess without any armour for those around you. You are among the first one to give your hand for help every time you spot a signal of distress. I am sure the birds flocking in your garden will bear witness to your kind heart.
Your love for books amazes me to no end. This is your only fancy, and your parents are only too happy to leave you with this legacy. I hope that someday you see the letters of your own name sitting in pride on a cover.
I can go on and on singing your praises,but I know that you will not like it, the modest little soul that you are. But there’s one last thing that I want to say. You have built your own sky, with your own stars, sun and moon, giving away enough lights to warm hearts, and I can only pray that you continue to draw rainbows with your love and kindness.
From your mamma who has been blessed with an ocean inside a drop.
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