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If you’ve ever wondered
how I turned out to be who I am
the answer is ‘you’.
When I am complimented (often hated)
for being a grammar Nazi,
I feel thankful to you
for the song of ABC.
Force fed during those early years
when all I wanted to do
was eat, sleep, cry and just be.

When my colleagues praise
my vegetable pulao and
when I bake the perfect cake
and the Shepherd’s pie,
I silently thank you
for sharing your space in the kitchen
with the truant and lazy girl
that I once was.

When I see my degrees
and academic achievements piling up,
I thank you for not giving up on me
even when the whole world believed
I was and would be a failure…always.

When I win an argument with you
with prompt sarcastic comebacks,
I thank you for teaching me the language.

When I think women empowerment,
I think of you.
When I want an honest opinion,
I call you.

I’m proud of you
Not because you’re my mother,
(both of us are beyond conventions)
But because you are a wonderful person.
And I’m writing this today
Not because it happens to be your birthday
but because I happened to remember
that I am more like you
than I could’ve ever thought.


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