He's kinda cute and angelic. Cherubic, cuddly, with an endearing smile and warm eyes which tear right through your heart ingratiating him immediately. You swear to love him all your life and protect him from the big bad world. He needs your care, guidance and support. You resolve not to fail him ever. You are his mother after all and he is your flesh n blood.
From the feeding and burping days to nappy changing and lullaby rituals, he is the centre of your universe as you are his. You adore him and he idolises you. Every one else takes a backseat.You see him through his toddling stage, adolescence, the rebellious teenage years and the excruciating slog years when he is at the threshold of starting a career. He blooms into a fine young man in no time. From Noddy to Friends, from Gajar Halwa to Panacotas, from Shaan to Justin Bieber, his tastes evolve, mature and diversify. You come to terms with this gruelling phenomenon rather reluctantly. You are unwilling to untie the apron strings but let him loose just a little so that he learns to stand on his own feet. He makes your heart swell with unbridled pride and love. You want to make choices for him; he indulges you occasionally. You relish the power of love and control.
If you are enormously lucky you even get to select a wife for him. You sift, scan and finalise a demure simpleton for him. But behold! In just a few weeks and she transforms into a femme fatale, twisting your dear boy around her delicate finger. You abhor this intruder but are helpless. You are infact asked to grin and welcome this interpolar. You do so grudgingly with a plastic smile. You put up a charade of warmth while secretly resenting her. You are determined not to let a 'stranger' usurp your dearest and most precious possession.
You swear to stamp your authority in their lives in the most aggressive manner possible.
Thus starts your interference and control of your son's life. You are the Mommy and Mommy always know best, or so it is claimed. Hence your conception of 'best' imposes and infringes upon the personal life and space of your son. You never learn to take a back seat. Privacy and independence are alien terms to you. So you continue with your controlling act and the tussle for 'power base' - with you holding it back and the children pulling it with all their might - continues unabated lifelong. That unfortunately is the sorry state of affairs in many a household in India.
This dominance of the Queen Mother is nowhere more defined and established as it's in India. From Shravan Kumar who carried his blind parents on his shoulders to Ramji who abdicated his rightful inheritance to do his stepmother's unjustified bidding, the mum-son equation is paramount in the scheme of things that make the family-structure function seamlessly.
The birth of a son is a major achievement in a woman's life, across all classes of indian society. It is a trophy or a distinction which accords a superior status to women automatically. Naturally enough, they are most reluctant to hand over this trophy to the next generation. Fortunately for Generation X, the influx of globalisation and the emergence of nuclear families as a natural corollary of the same, is facilitating a less acrimonious change of guard. The most pious relationship in the world is getting redefined and realigned in sync with the shift in new age thinking and philosophy of "Love me? Let me loose!!"
You mommy dearest are learning to accept the flight of your baby bird from the nest. Well, as long as he remembers to fly back home once in a while and doesn't forget the route, you can make an effort to unclip his wings. Umbilical cord has to be cut finally and you'll find that there's a little pain but much greater joy of delivering.
