Tracing My Imperfect Relationship With My Mother (& How It Might Never Be Perfect)

Growing up, my mom had this rule where we needed to be up and ready by nine in the morning, even during our vacations. She’s a teacher and like her, we were expected to take rules seriously – so we did. I remember hating the idea of not getting to sleep in, and I would often get angry. The idea of her daughter arguing with her, understandably never made my mom happy. She was strict and I was rebellious, and most times we disagreed, we fought. We’d get angry easily, and we made sure to show it. She also had a better relationship with my brother, and this somehow added to the anger.

We had this shelf in our storeroom where we put glass bowls and plates for when we had guests at home. One time, my brother and I ended up cracking a few while playing. My brother apologized and I argued that it was the wrong place to put them, and my mom expected me to act like my brother. Another time, my mom said something about a friend of mine, asking me to change company. I was disappointed that she didn’t care how it made me feel. This was our relationship, in a nutshell.

I also studied in an all girls’ school, and my mom felt it was better because that would keep me away from, well, boys and the idea of dating. It was finally in class eleven when I joined extra classes outside of school, where I had friends who were not just girls. She would be particularly careful of who I talked to – it was her way to show concern. For a teenager, however, it meant restriction – a lot of it. I would hide things from her, because I was scared how she’d react to them. When I did tell her, we would always end up arguing. She said I treated her like an enemy when she was an ally. I felt the same.

Our issues went beyond disagreements. It was also about wanting to feel seen – from both sides. She wanted to be validated as a mother who was just doing her job, I wanted her to validate my opinions. In doing so, we would often piss each other off. In doing that, we tried so hard to show that we didn’t care, that we would mostly end up hurting each other.

When you grow up in a society that treats women as inferiors, you grow up with a sense of paranoia that you’re never going to be treated well. Having a brother didn’t make it easy. I always felt like he got a free pass for most things that I couldn’t even imagine doing. So, I made sure to fight for things and take a stand – because I didn’t want a future where I was treated differently. I remember my mom pointed out that I should learn how to cook, and I said that I would do it only after my brother would too. After a point, everyone stopped arguing about it. What I considered as standing up for myself, she took as disrespect – and it’s common for parents in our society to mistake fear for respect.

Most days, if we sat together, we just ended up bickering; and so, I started avoiding spending a lot of time with her. We would hardly talk and when we did, it was about very basic things. I remember watching Dear Zindagi with my parents, and mom’s first reaction was, “You fight just like Alia Bhatt’s character in it.” I tried explaining that she actually made a lot of sense, and I took it as a compliment.

Around the same time, my brother moved out for work and our house started to feel emptier. There are two realizations that never feel good – seeing your parents growing older, and finding yourself lonely. For me, both happened together. I didn’t have my brother to vent to, and my parents didn’t have the one person who they considered would get them. This was when we extended an olive branch without actually addressing it – this is a very Indian household thing, to just move on because we deflect expressing emotions.

Mom says things changed for her, when I started talking to her more. She also says that she has always feared for me, because she knows it’s scary for women out there. We still disagree a lot, but we also see each other better. I still don’t agree that restricting me from doing things was exactly the best way to protect me. I feel it’s never a good idea to control a child to the extent that they fear you. Parents should feel like a safe space. That said, I see where she was coming from, even if I don’t exactly appreciate it. Maybe she changed as well, and that deserves some acknowledgement.

It’s assumed that mothers and daughters get each other, or at least they’re supposed to. So, if that’s not the case, you feel like you’re doing something wrong. It comes with a lot of pressure to keep everything together, and we forget that it’s just like any other relationship – which can have its flaws. Of course, it takes a lot of work, but that doesn’t mean dismissing our issues with each other. Let’s put it like this: I have a thing for pizzas, my mom doesn’t, she likes dosas instead, which I don’t. We haven’t grown to like what the other loves to eat, so now, without ‘compromising’, we do as we please. Every once in a while, we try and give each other’s choices a chance, and it’s like meeting each other half way.