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Janani: Mothers, Daughters,
Motherhood
The book, however, seeks to explore the conflicting facets of a multidimensional mother and her true self, devoid of external perceptions of how she ought to function and feel. It combines a slice of life from women writers and activists to delve deeper into the psyche of a mother and daughter. The many-layered life of a mother comes under clinical scrutiny. Some like Nabaneeta Dev Sen and Shashi Deshpande dare to define motherhood as an unbearable emotional burden. Shashi writes: "I saw that mothers hold out their love like a carrot—a prize for (what they considered) good behaviour. This love is not unconditional...I knew mothers can be partial...and even play off one child against another. And as for being a storehouse of understanding and sympathy, it is wise never to tell one’s mother one’s real feelings, one’s secrets—these can be used against you." She also feels that motherhood is neither sacred nor holy—it is only natural. Most mothers stand on a line that has at its end the two extremities of a realistic mother and the ideal one. Sacrifice comes naturally to a mother but we also have mothers who can abort under pressure or leave their newborns at the mercy of a cold world. The maternal instinct doesn’t run high in all women but we won’t believe it for it seems gross. How can a mother be anything but a mother? Her dreams can’t be for real and if she does pursue them, she is wicked to put herself before her kids. A mother is duty-bound and can never be a free woman. And then there is self-doubt. Nabaneeta voices her fears. "I felt trepidations...was I a good enough mother? Kind enough? Honest enough? A mother must be all of these...I was not mature enough, not serious enough, not patient enough, not wise enough, not knowledgeable enough, not informed enough, not selfless enough, not confident enough. How will I be able to guide another human being.’’ The book is also a heart-warming account of adoptive motherhood, single mothers and the choice of a woman like Deepa Gahlot who doesn’t want to have children as she abhors the idea of "surrendering her independent lifestyle for one of lifelong bondage." As one reads along, one can’t help but draw parallels and conjure up images of one’s own mother. A poignant point comes when you become your mother’s mother, a situation that demands the same selfless love. The book makes one want to apologise for any hurt one may have caused her and tell her that she is much loved for what she is. Without her love, what would we all be?
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There is, perhaps, nothing
more undervalued than a mother and her love. In all her glory, a mother
is the quintessential woman who gladly sacrifices her all for her child.
A paragon of virtue, an archetypal mother cannot have dreams of her own,
for only in their absence can she nurture her child as expected of her.