LIFE LESSONS
My Mother Hates Me
Is it hate or love?
Are you serious?
Your Mother hates You! But Why? — amazed Lone questioned me.
The sun shimmered orangish over the horizon. Amidst the Hindukush mountains, the valley snaked the way leading to my home. The house had a shield of a small thatched roof, transparent windows, a perennial water source that flowed through the streams, and ventilation in the attic through which sunlight enveloped the room’s corner.
The playfulness of the sun’s rays embraced me with its changing nature. Sometimes it appeared very hot and, at times, cold, shifting like seasons of life.
My Mother, a tall, beautiful woman, with dark kohled eyes and excellent cooking skills, at times felt annoyed by nature’s playfulness. It kind of hindered her day-to-day activities. Or most probably, she disliked the sudden change in the weather.
The ambiance of simple living made me feel like “nature’s child.” Everything in the environment fascinated me about discovering Life and its living.
While my thoughts crisscrossed, Lone, a shy yet extroverted childhood friend of mine, came down to visit in the suburbs of my home. We greeted, exchanged our complaints, and sat down over a cup of coffee. The hot flame from the drink, the cold water from the perennial springs, and our in-depth talks favored the get-together ambiance.
Straight headed, body slightly leaned with eyes gleaming in curiosity, Lone questioned — Why does your Mother hate you?
- Is it because you are childish?
- Are you irresponsible? or
- Do you ignore her sayings?
Lone showing her intelligent side, responded — You see, Swati, Mother’s love is the purest form of emotion to have ever existed. It is irreplaceable. Untouched. Calm and smooth. Free-flowing.
Proceeding ahead, Lone mentioned, “A Mother can never hate their children. Even if they do, it definitely must be for their betterment.”
After sipping the coffee, we continued our conversation by walking through the mountainous valley. Lone and I tiptoed through the meandering paths, conversed through our random talks, and nature lent its ears.
Lone gasped for breath. Tired, we took shelter beneath a wild tree. I couldn’t precisely decipher what kind of group it belonged to, but it looked wild. The branches dangled with much of its leaves withered down like autumn fall, yet the tree appeared evergreen by tiny little leaves.
Hear me, Lone, I said. My mother hates me! The reason she cites is my extreme kindness, which always lands me in trouble.
A bit amazed, Lone, with her eyes bulged out, cross-examined the fact: Kindness? How can it be hurtful? I recorrected her. Lone, it’s extreme kindness, I whispered in a sobbing tone.
However, Lone took the reason lightly. She giggled, stating that people can never hate anyone for their goodwill. Nonetheless, as a friend, she did give me my fair chance of defense. Within my heart, the situation felt like a courtroom trial with judgment resting in the hands of my friend. The wild tree gave me a snaring look, waiting for my justified response to Lone. The heavy burden of my Mother hating me conspired in the arena as nature’s gossip.
The hate started since I was a child.
It was during the primal years of mine that extreme kindness started breathing in me. One primary reason was my Convent Schooling. Herein, the teachings rendered had a humanitarian touch. In my schooling curriculum, subjects of ethics and moral science were given more weightage. Naturally, my inclination shifted towards humanity and humanitarian people.
One of the legends whose humane values positively influenced me is The Great Mother Teresa. She symbolized compassion, peace, care, kindness, and empathy. Combinedly, the core principles of hers and teachings of my convent schooling made me sensitive, kind, and compassionate towards life and people in general.
However, extreme kindness always backfired in my life. Forget about extreme; even simple acts of kindness were unwelcomed.
“Touch me not,” Lone, I said. She stated back questioning, “That’s the name of a plant, I guess?” Patting on her prowess, I mentioned, “The plant — touch me not — that’s the real identity.” As a child, people mocked my sensitive side and kindness like that of “touch me not” plant.” The name was entitled to me because of my deep emotions, whereby the simplest of insensitive behaviors left me severely impacted. And there are still more.
Right from my relative’s imprudent behaviors, to their uncountable questioning, to people existing only for the name-sake and disloyal friends, every circumstance felt unfair. Collectively, my life’s universe witnessed hell falling over my extreme kindness. My Mother, as usual, reprimanded me for being too naive and lacking the ability to distinguish between the right people and the arrogant ones.
It was a rough, unkind, and cruel attitude of people that left me hurt. Each time when my goodness was taken advantage of, my days had a silhouette of darkness. Life felt gloomy, withered, and meaningless. My trust was lost, and a sense of doubt prevailed over kind people still existent.
My Mother hated this quality of mine, which delicately impacted me and was ruining me to the core. In caress, she guided me by stressing the fact that kindness, if practiced blindly, can leave a person on the brink of suffering. While your intentions of being kind might be pure, one never knows the intentions of the person in front of you. This situation is where criticality arises. Hence, she always mentored me — Be Good. Do Good. However, Be careful!
As a child, these summations were far beyond my grasp. From then until today, these words flow over my head, like the clouds passing over. Despite the repercussions, kindness rekindles the happiness of my soul.
Lone, midway mentioned — That’s how Kindness is supposed to be! I somewhat nodded in agreement. The trees, too, responded by swaying their leaves.
With progressing time, my only fault was forgetting my Mother’s wise wisdom, every time. Her voice always echoes in my heart, “Be Kind. But, be careful, daughter, for heaven’s sake, be careful!” Nonetheless, my behavior always appeared adamant to her. Why? Because I actively listened to her teachings one moment and forgot the very next moment. Her anger touched peaks when my kind behavior impacted my life and left me sobbing in her motherly arms.
While everyone needs to be kind regardless, not everybody fairly welcomes it. People can disregard your genuineness and break trust. It also brings with itself a probability of being taken advantage of, misunderstood, and hated.
The conversations continued like the hours passing, and all of a sudden moment, thoughts struck my mind. The feeling appeared like divine guidance, which tickled a message. Tapping on Lone’s palm, I whispered slightly into her ears, “ Friend, maybe the mythological deities forgot to mention the time period where people will value kindness despite any selfishness attached.”
Isn’t it possible, Lone? I enquired in curiosity. My friend Lone gazed in silence. She whined and scratched her head, hinting about the possibility. Looking above, I was seeking an answer from the heavenly deities. Unfortunately, the answers were marked by a pin drop silence.
The red tinge of the sky was prepping the atmosphere of dusk. The time flew by and we planned to walk back to my home in the valley. However, our conversations remained uninterrupted followed by my musical humming:
My mother hates me
I know the reason why
Despite her warnings
Extreme Kindness pains my life!
Lone and I reached near a pump well and drank water. The transparent, iced touch of water instilled a sense of euphoria amidst our serious talk. After quenching the thirst, Lone asked me about penning my thoughts in a poetic rhythm. I nodded agreeably.
Continuing our walk, I mentioned to Lone about writing poems having a touch of, “I care too much,” “Goodness that hurts,” and “Where Thy Fault.” She voiced a demand and asked me about reciting the poems during the dining.
The moment felt like happiness in abundance. If somebody listens to my poetic crafts, it fills my life with a ray of optimism, merriment, and contentment. That one ear is like uncountable stars listening to my story.
Gazing at the reddish tinge of the sky, I quietly muttered to Lone in a muted voice. My mother hates me because I forget that — people can be unkind, harsh, cruel, brutal, hard-hearted, and inhumane despite you being wonderfully kind and coming from the heart. In this century, kindness does come at a cost; my mother recites all day, making me pay attention to her saying.
Few miles from reaching my home, I conversed with Lone about how extreme kindness always had been a pain in my heart. People giggled and mocked my kind attitude. Citing her, I mentioned going through several books, blog posts, podcasts, the Zen teachings, and more, which stated Kindness as an extreme act of altruism.
Many disciplines also suggest — Give Goodness, and so shall you receive. Undoubtedly, the teachings are sincerely true, and obediently I have incorporated them as part of my existence. The insightful teachings bring awareness; instills knowledge; however, the real-life experiences are the best teachers.
One can also find out the validness of how far the preachings stands true. It is because, as humans, we only realize and value things in times when we feel. Right from nature, cosmos, society, art, the essence of feeling everything determines the real meaning. It is what I rightly call — Power of Observation.
Most appreciate your kindness in today’s world only if you are powerful — in designation, wealth, laurels, and is/are famous. People will rush towards you like they are your only well-wishers. They will discover uncountable ways to get associated, even though you are unkind.
Contrarily, if an ordinary individual reflects kindness, it remains a moment’s appreciativeness and not remembered life-long. Exceptions might exist because the universe is one big bang theory of uncertainty.
I mumbled to Lone; until now, people disregarded my kindness. So even if someone, very rarely though, appears kind to me, I feel it as a priceless gift.
We neared about reaching our home. The sky was turning to darkest hours moment by moment. Our conversations swiftly moved. Lone questioned me about holding a bitter approach towards Life. I smiled, stating kindness can never make anyone go bitter. People might be unkind; however, it is our responsibility to be aware that our kindness is not misinterpreted or taken advantage of in the tumultuous decade.
It’s so weird that I tell people about being aware of extreme kindness; however, my mindfulness in regards to it slips mostly. I miss out on the lesson, which is why my mother keeps hating me.
Having reached home, a thorn nearby the stream got stuck in my barefoot. Lone immediately bent down, her smiling eyes met mine, then by removing the thorn she expressed — Even I hate You!
Your mother and I hate you but in the right way. Because not every hate corresponds to negative emotion. Some hate is like the weeds of betterment, like a stormy sky, few like a rainbow of unique colors, and some in the form of Mother’s stern voice.
Here’s a thought: Some people only hate you because they sincerely care! My mother all this while answered in subtility :
“Hate is also a form of my love.”
