Jab Mai Nahi Rahoongi Tab Pata Chalega

I am an extremely private person. You will barely ever find me sharing about my personal life on social media – no images, no stories, no check-ins, absolutely nothing. Zero.

However, a post caught my attention - Ankit Agarwal 's #beavailable campaign - and it prompted me to make an exception. The person beside me in the photo is my mother, and I believe her story deserves to be shared.

Like most children, I also took my mother for granted and she used to say "jab mai nahi rahoongi tab pata chalega". On June 15, 2021 wo nahi rahi.

A woman who had always been healthy, never hospitalized in her entire life, fell ill and was gone in just 15 days.

This is the tale of my mother, Smt. Asha Mahajan.

She was born in a quaint Himachal village. As fate would have it, my nana ji's posting took her to Shimla, where she moved with her sisters.

At 18, she joined the Himachal government. She dedicated a decade to her career and earned recognition as one of the most dedicated employees in her department. Her career was flourishing when she got married.

Upon marriage, she left her job to wholeheartedly tend to my father's family. Sadly, her devotion to the family wasn't reciprocated. My father frequently traveled for business, supporting our extended family, while she managed our home and cared for my grandparents. She has told me that sometimes she would even make 100 chapatis in a day! But she never even complained to my father.

It was only after I was born that she for the very first time told my father that she will not bring me up amidst his family's complex dynamics. She told him that she did not want their daughter to suffer the same fate that she did. My father agreed, and it was decided that I would be raised and educated in Shimla, the state capital, rather than Mandi, his hometown.

When I was merely 14 days old, she traveled to Shimla with my Nani, to ensure I received the best care possible. We rented a property from my Nana Ji, mainly because my father's demanding business schedule kept him away from us most of the time. Hence, it was essential for Mummy and me to be close to my nana nani.

I was 2 years old (1989) when she went to my Nana Ji and told him "Bauji mai fir se job karna chanti hoon." And so, my Nana Ji arranged an accountant job for her at a nearby school. She started anew, earning a mere INR 1500.

She shouldered the responsibilities of caring for me, working, and managing our home, all on her own. She constantly reassured my father, allowing him to concentrate on expanding his business and fulfilling his obligations towards his siblings and parents.

She ensured that I get the best of everything. She always encouraged me to be a strong person. She taught me to stand up for myself when needed but always be rooted in kindness & humility at all other times.

In 2004, after my dada dadi passed, our extended family structure crumbled, and we found ourselves practically homeless overnight. Due to the lack of assets in his name, my father was left with nothing. Amidst this chaos, Mummy stood strong by his side and said, "Aap chinta kyun karte ho, Mai hoon na." In a matter of months, we bought a new house, with Mummy's hard-earned savings being put towards the down payment. Over the subsequent years, she and my father together repaid the loans & built assets.

As I recently browsed through her Facebook profile, it struck me – there are hardly any pictures of us together. My father and I had pictures, so did my sister and I.

The reason? Mummy was perpetually working for us, ensuring our lives were comfortable and enjoyable.

When I told her that I wanted to quit my job & try building a business but I was scared she said "Beta chinta kya hai, hum hai na."

Everything I am, everything I will ever be, all my successes, past and future, are due to her and her struggles. She was the best person I ever knew. If you ever asked her for help she would do everything in her capacity to help you out and never expect anything in return. Despite her struggles, she always radiated happiness. Even when I was upset about someone wronging her, she'd calm me down, saying, "mera karam mere saath jaega, uska karam uske saath."

Thank you, Mummy, for everything, and then some more. I love you. How I wish I had expressed this when I had the chance. You are my bedrock, my motivation, my divine guide. And indeed, "pata chalta hai mummy, roz pata chalta hai."