I tried hard to swallow the lump in my throat as I watched the man stuff the pressure cooker along with all the bundles of old newspaper into his gunny bag. Closing the door I sat down with my mug of coffee as my mind went into flashback. The pressure cooker (a gift from my mother when my daughter arrived on the scene) not only helped me churn up many 'pish pash' meals but it also reminded me of the many mealtimes (how I wish I could have them back) when my captive foodie in her high chair made "Picassoic" patterns on the floor with pureed carrot or khicheree or sundry other vegetables introduced to her from time to time. I also recall the very, very overdone omelette she made for me one Mother's Day and the glow on her face when I swallowed it down and claimed it was the best present I had received so far. One summer afternoon I remember facing a teary eyed girl with the charred remains of my new saucepan "Ma nowhere in the recipe for butterscotch toffee does it say stir continuously"(Wonder if I could have claimed damages for incorrect recipe instructions) Suddenly my daughter's voice punctured my reverie. Entering her room and trying not to look at her half-packed suitcase I sat down on the bed. My daughter would soon be flying the nest and with her would go part of the best phase of my story... the precious bringing up years. Busy throwing in things into her bag she looked up "Ma I was wondering if I could borrow Nani's diary, you know the one with the recipes. How to make rice, khicheree, egg curry and yellow dal?" I smiled to myself as I made my way to the kitchen drawer to fetch it. Apart from the family anecdotes, the upbringing the culture and history that we pass onto our daughters it is this 'baton of food' that we pass on that keeps the on going marathon bondage of all our mother daughter stories alive. The invisible umbilical connection carries on as we fade out of their lives to nurture another mother daughter story in the making and the continuity chain of this story called Life. .
- Rita Mukherjee.

Second Prize

Aria's Story

Aria peered out from behind the curtain where she was hiding. She was hiding from her baby brother. Her mother would be back from work any time now. She looked out of the window and it was getting dark. Where was mum, she wondered. She wanted her to get home soon and she would get worried when it became dark. Just then she heard her baby brother Sash crying. She ran from her hideout. She felt ashamed for her antics, she was meant to look after her brother. Aria was seven but thought she was ten years old, because that was quite a grown up age to be. She couldn't really think beyond ten. She wanted to be like her mother and from the time she could remember she had tried to imitate her in everything. She had been busted many times for rummaging her mum's cupboards. Her dad would jokingly call Aria her mum's tail. Her dad. He wasn't there anymore. Ever since their father had gone to be with God, her mum had said that she needed to be strong for her brother and take care of him and see that he did not miss dad. Aria tried her best to comfort her brother and play silly games that she invented to keep him distracted. Sash was only three years old and followed her around like a puppy, but there were lot of things he didn't understand. But Aria did. She understood that her mother needed to work hard because they needed the money. That Sash and she had to spend time with grandma because mum had to work long hours. She knew that when mum's eyes were red and looked recently washed, it was because she missed dad and not because she had just taken a bath or had cut onions or any of the other excuses she made up. She wanted to comfort her mother and tell her not to be sad. She wanted to protect her. Aria went towards the drawing room where she had left Sash. As she walked in, she realized she couldn't hear the crying anymore. She stopped at the entrance to watch the scene in front of her. Mum had picked Sash up and was cradling him and cooing in his ear. Mum was looking at Sash with such tenderness and love that Aria felt a tug in her chest. She felt tears welling up and realized it was because she wanted to be Sash. Suddenly her mother looked up and saw her. She held out her hand and said "come here, darling". Aria ran into her arms and hugged her tightly. She could hear mum say, "it's going to be okay, my darling". And she knew that it would..

-Tanya Saieesh

Third Prize

Moms

The cat had a litter under the sofa on the same day that Janaki arrived from the nursing home with her baby. "There'll be an infection, for sure, get rid of those animals," said Amma. "They've a right to be alive, they are healthy and we'll keep them in the outside room," debated Anna. Ravi had no say in the matter, nor the time. His casual leave was over, he was racing against time to get things organized both at home and at office, and four babies, three mewing and one bawling, plus two quarreling parents and a still-recovering wife were exasperating him. "Throw them out. They will cause allergies, illness." "In the village, cattle, cats, dogs, aunts, daughters-in-law, all had their babies under one roof. Nothing happened. They will stay." "This is not the village. And this is my grand-daughter we're talking of, not some vague grand-aunt's daughter-in-law's baby. The kittens must go." Out of curiosity, Janaki limped (her abdomen was still feeling hollow and sore) to see the cause of this quarrel. A furry face with large, frightened eyes looked up at her from the dark underside of the sofa. The whiskered mouth opened in a 'miaow', but no sound came from it. She was obviously tired from the night's labour. Nestled against her were three mites, blind, bald, helpless. They looked more like mice than cats. Well, when she first saw her baby, she'd thought she looked like a giant, wrinkled tadpole, till she was cleaned and clothed. Both nouveau moms stared at each other. 'You had three?' thought Janaki. 'Hell, I couldn't cope with one.' "She must've come through the window when I left it open," grumbled Amma. 'You jumped in all that pain?' Janaki thought of the comfort of the nursing home, and how she'd yelled for relief when the contractions were unbearable. "Leave that poor cat alone, in a day or two she'll take her kittens and go. Cats don't stay for long," Appa raised his voice. 'Go where?' Janaki felt bad. She tried to touch a kitten with a finger, but the cat put out a claw. 'Won't hurt you,' she thought. But the cat wasn't to know that. There was a tiny scratch on her finger. Janaki withdrew her hand. Back in bed, she held her baby to her breast. What a mess all this milk and sweat was. So much discomfort, a nuisance. The little one sucked with all her might, and that tired her. In moments, she was asleep again. Minutes later, she'd wake, hungry again. "Where's that broom? I'm going to chase that cat out," Amma wasn't giving up. Appa had resigned; there was no point arguing with her when she was in this mood. A desperate mew startled Janaki. 'Amma, NO,' she blurted. Silence. 'Leave her alone.' There was a determination in her tone that they'd never heard before. Latent courage. Amma stopped. Demure Janaki had metamorphosed into something strong, firm. Motherhood, had happened.

- Sheela Jaywant

Selfless Love

Gazing at her small bundle of joy, Sonia really understood a mothers selfless love towards her children, especially daughters. Really a unique bond is developed between a mother and daughter, the moment a mother embraces her blessing in disguise, she is overwhelmed by the feeling of landing again on earth in a new form. She feels extreme happiness in giving all the happiness, which she can, to her daughter. Whatever a mother lacks in her life, wants to provide to her daughter by all means. During this journey a mother plays all sorts of roles to nurture her dearest darling. But sometimes, this pampering, over caring, and selfless love is often mistaken for over possessiveness, which according to the teen daughters is obstacle in their freedom and sometimes blame their mothers to be clingy. Moms forgive, because how can one punish oneself? She finds alternate ways to handle her daughter but never leaves her on her own. On the other hand, a daughter, on becoming mature tries to be a teacher, designer, caretaker and friend of her mother and always try to change her dear simple mom in every possible way. She often swaps her position with her mom whenever needed, mom smiles at this, and take this attitude as a complement. While parting physically, they exchange their hearts to beat for each other, forever. Sonia excitedly dialed her mobile, Mom.. How is she? was the reply. How you..knew.mom? Your jingling voice revealed everythingdarling! WHAT A MAGNETIC RELATIONSHIP!

Sheela Virwani

My cushion in troubled times 

Which word would clearly define something or rather, someone who is as strong as a diamond, as powerful as the mighty Heracles, as gritty as sand, as soft as a chicks downy feather and as kind as God's own hand? Why the word just has to be MOTHER!! The shield that protects us from unsavory things, the pillar that raises us to what we are really meant to be, the cushion that comforts us in our woes.that is a Mother.

What could however, be sweeter than the mother-daughter tie? When we are getting married, discover we are pregnant, having our first baby; we want our mother beside us more than any other person in the world. The mother and daughter bond is deep and lifelong. Cemented by such simple things as combing hair, sharing a wardrobe, to major moments of emotional crisis, this relationship is meant to give both - mothers and their daughters the love and satisfaction of a life time. Everybody knows that a good mother gives her children a feeling of trust and stability. She is their earth.

She is the one they can count on for the things that matter most of all. She is their food, their bed and the extra blanket when it grows cold in the night; she is their warmth and their health and their shelter; she is the one they want to be near when they cry. She is the only person in the whole world in a whole lifetime who can be these things to her children. There is no substitute for a Mother. Somehow even her clothes feel different to her children's hands from anybody else's clothes. Only to touch her skirt or her sleeve makes a troubled child feel better, isn't??? In return what the Mothers want most from their daughters are: time together, kindness in words and actions, captured memories, and personal services that improve the quality of life. Here is my short story of my relationship with my dear Mother........read on Now-a-days it seems to be pretty much a known that college students aren't very big fans of their mothers.

They say that their mothers give them unreasonable rules when they come home from school/college. They call too often, and pry into every detail of their lives. My mother never did any of these things. But wait..... Before you get jealous and ask to clone her for yourself, you might want to find out why. When I was fifteen years old, my mother went for her annual breast examination. The doctor told her everything looked alright, but that there were some slight calcifications and she should come back in six months for another exam. Not having a very deep knowledge of medicine, my mother thought that a calcification was the result of drinking too much milk and didn't think much of it. Before the six months were up, she discovered a lump in her left breast.

The calcifications, it turned out, were the early stages of this lump. At first, her situation looked optimistic. She had a mastectomy and chemotherapy and went into remission. It seemed the whole situation was just a terrible scare. When I was eighteen the cancer spread to her bones. Again, we were optimistic. The doctors were hopeful that the treatment would work for her. It did...for a few months. For the next two years, she was in and out of various hospitals to treat the cancer in her bones, brain, and eventually her liver. When I was twenty, my mother passed away. She had been a successful lady, very active in the local Parish and other community activities, and a loving sister and mother to our entire community. When I walked into the Church on the day of her funeral for the Holy Mass and then the graveyard, I saw that it was packed; I realized just how many lives she had touched. We had so many people pouring in to sympathize us and each one spoke wonderful things about my mother. Just as my mother had affected so many members of the community, so many people came to the house to offer words of condolence, food of every kind and just plain, good company.

So many people cooked us dinner A year and a half later, I was cleaning my room; I found a box that I kept all sorts of letters in. I don't think I had ever sat down to read all of them, but I decided to read them on that day. Among my friend's letters written to me I found a letter from my mother, dated only a few months before she was diagnosed with cancer. At that time she was working full time almost an hour away. She left the letter for me to find years later. In the letter, my mother apologized that she couldn't spend more time with me and wished that there was some way she could be home more. There is so much irony in the fact that she got sick so soon after writing this letter. From that time on, she was always home to see me off to college and welcome me home in the afternoon. Every day, when I came home, I would climb into her bed to watch TV. On her better days, she would muster up enough energy to plan and take me and our friends to the beach. On her worse days, I would tiptoe into her bedroom to give her a hug and kiss and sit quietly at the foot of her bed waiting for her to wake up. In less than twenty years, my mother and I managed to build a stronger relationship than most mothers and daughters do in much longer lifetimes. We knew our time together was short, and so we made the most of it. At a time when most girls hate their mothers, I found a best friend in mine. Isn't this wonderful, then? There wasn't anything about me, my Mother didn't know whether it was good or bad - she was always there for me. Family and friends knew of our wonderful rare Mother/Daughter relationship and there those that envied it so! I always and still do, know how very lucky I was to have her in my life. When she passed away, I thought I would die. I really did - for I have never in my life felt such pain. My heart hurt me so! The pain was so real! I do believe in God and I believe He helped me to get through the pain and suffering and so did prayer.

I began to pray everyday and say the prayers my Mother used to say. I believe then and now that it gets me through the day. Still, though I am married - and there are the good days and the bad days. I had a dream the other day, it was so real - I believe it was real. I was flying over our old neighborhood and I could see my Mothers' head in the kitchen window and so I called out to her I said, "Mama, come to me once again please" and she flew to me - she had wings! We hugged each other tight as if we would never let go and I said to her-"You are my Angel"! And then I woke up! I was so happy! It was so real! My Angel, My Mother! Thank you for the opportunity to tell you about a Daughter who loves and misses her Mother so! My bond with my mother have been a spiritual, loving, and empowering learning experience. We bonded together in an unexplainable unspoken bond that only some mothers and daughters can know. There is an intuitive emotion that connects us through the generations.

My own Mother passed away years ago, however, she lives on in the way I lead my life and what I have taught my children. For me the relationships have come full circle as I am now watching with pride as my own children embark on their own journey in life with a sense of belonging; a sense of empowerment. Finally I end with a quote....."Mother is the bank where we deposited all our hurts and worries". .

The Broken Link

Aamna, an 18yr old girl gets up from her sleep gasping & sweating. Those dreams in which she saw her father leaving her because of her mother roaming with other men. As she was coming back to normal, a girl from her hostel came to tell her about her mother's call. But Aamna refused to attend to it by saying she is busy and has no time to talk to her. Amna's mother Suhana, was a good singer. He had left her in the boarding school when she was 6yrs old & went abroad with some men. After 12yrs she came to India to meet her daughter, but got disappointed after hearing that she won't talk to her. Suhana tried a lot to meet her but failed. After returning from her basketball practice, she got a note from her which her hostel's watchman handed over. She returned to her room & threw the note into a corner. She bathed and dressed and once again she thought of the note. Let's see what is written in it she thought. She opened it and read: Dear Aamna, I tried a lot to contact you but failed. I know that you are still annoyed about why I left you here alone in boarding instead of taking care of you through all these years. It's just because I don't want you to suffer as I did. Your father was a drunkard and had lost money in gambling. I joined an orchestra to fulfill our basic needs. One day your father saw me with some men of that group talking with me After returning home he accused me, beat me & left us. I thought you wouldn't be able to continue your studies if I leave this job. I couldn't take care of you as I was busy in my work so had to put you in a boarding school & went abroad for the shows. I know you still hate me but I did everything only for your good. But you always took me wrong. Hope this note will clarify some of your doubts about me. I am leaving this country again, if ever you think I was correct then give me a call, I will be there for you Love, Mummy She realized her mistake & ran to a nearby booth to call her mom and with a guilty feeling she talked to her, bonding the broken link once again.

- Fatima