I was confused, and peculiar thoughts raced through my mind. My face mirrored the tempest in my heart; I was sad. However, I gathered my resolve to confront the unknown. At seventeen, I had never experienced motherly love, and suddenly, she stood before me — my mother, my very own flesh and blood. The happiness was tinged with sorrow, knowing I had missed my childhood with her. I had lost my father at seven, and now, at seventeen, I met my mother again. A benevolent Jesuit Father from my college connected us, reuniting a mother and son.

My Parents

In his college days in Allahabad, my father, Christopher, an Andhrite, met Hope, a student from another college. Their friendship blossomed, leading to marriage. Her parents in Delhi vehemently opposed her, citing cultural differences. The young couple persisted and wedded in Delhi.

Their happiness grew, and I, Raja, their first child, was born in Ludhiana, Punjab. A year later, my younger brother, Mohan, arrived in Bareilly, Uttar Pradesh.

Job requirements led my father to a small Andhra town. Things started becoming difficult My mother’s family opposed her move, as she had a job in Delhi.

A new twist and turn.

For some reason, my father’s mother in Andhra told her son to bring his two children from Delhi. My Mom came along but at that time she could not stay long with her in-laws. So we, the little children along with our parents once again went back to Delhi.

Here comes one more twist.

My father’s mother strongly insisted that the children should return to Andhra and my father somehow managed to get his two little boys without his wife from Delhi to Andhra. That was the last time that my mother could see her children. I was about three years old and my brother was two years old. Both of us were so small, we didn’t even realise what was happening around us. Well, the fact remains that we were distanced from our mother.

Growing up

Our paternal grandmother tried to fulfil the role of a mother.  On the other hand, when my mother’s family in Delhi objected her to going to the southern part of India, she did not confront them. And she remained far away from her two sons.  

As time passed, the word ‘mother’ gradually faded from our minds. Our paternal grandmother attempted to fill the void. My brother and I adjusted, receiving a semblance of maternal affection from our paternal grandmother.

Very soon another twist came in.

In December 1949, my father took both his boys in his lap and said

“My dear children, I am going to Delhi and will return with your mother.”

I was just about seven years old and was in the 2nd standard. That was the last we saw of our father. Within just one month, the message came that my father was no more. The cause of death – nobody knew. His mysterious death left us clueless about the truth. When my Uncle, my father’s elder brother, enquired, the hospital authorities in Delhi categorically replied that he died of some sickness. What’s the truth, nobody knew.

My mother kept in touch with us for a while through letters. That too slowly dropped to a trickle and eventually, that little connection also was broken. It became an unanswered question about the whereabouts of my mother. Nobody knew anything about her and eventually, everybody forgot about her.

God’s designs are unfathomable. My uncle, my father’s elder brother, who remained a bachelor, took the two young boys under his wings and provided us with all that a father could give. Assuming the responsibility of bringing us up, he completely gave up the idea of getting married. With his small earnings as a school teacher, he took very good care of us and both of us felt very comfortable with him. Indeed he became our loving father.

As we were growing up, my grandmother, my father’s mother, also passed away at 86. By that time my Aunt, my father’s sister, completed her tenure as a Government Doctor in North India and returned to Andhra. With her deep involvement in her medical duties, she also did not think of getting married. She became our foster mother and along with her brother, gave us everything that we needed.

The Awakening

I was a good-looking and academically inclined student. After finishing my schooling at the Mission School, I enrolled in Andhra Loyola College and stayed in the hostel.  Occasionally, I visited a distant relative’s family in Vijayawada.  During one such visit, their four-year-old son innocently asked, “Anna, do you also have a mother?” I was stunned, my emotions running deep. I was dumbstruck and with a lump in my throat, I stared into the void and sat there like a statue. My mind was frozen.

After a slight pause the little boy hugging his mother, suddenly blurted out, “So you don’t have a mother?”

These innocent questions unravelled my emotions. I had never thought about my mother all these years. The absence of motherly love struck me hard. I was much perturbed by the feeling that I had been very unfortunate. All kinds of meaningless thoughts were coming into my mind. I just couldn’t continue with the lunch. I suddenly got up and washed my hands. My hosts were surprised. I gave some excuse for being unwell and went off to my hostel.

I tried to go through my athletic practice session on the running track, but couldn’t concentrate.

I was unable to sleep. “Mother” – I just wanted to see how she looked. But how? I didn’t even know whether she was even there. Would anybody know? It was unfathomable for me to think why she left me and became unreachable. How will I know what is a mother’s love? What an unlucky fellow I am.

I was determined to search and find my mother. But where should I start? Where will I find her? Even if I find her, how will I recognize her? I don’t even know how she looks. Sorrow flooded me with no bounds. I did not know how long I wept. I was drowned in my never-ending tears.

When I opened my eyes, it was already daylight. I tried getting up. But just couldn’t. I felt as though my entire body was badly beaten. I looked at my face in the mirror. The dried-up tear marks on my face were staring at me. My eyes were sunken. It was a chaos in my mind. Then I  fell back on my bed. My head was spinning.  Unable to think about anything else, I just held my head tightly in my hands. I realised that I had a high fever.

It took nearly a week for the fever to subside. But all those days, I was having nightmares as though I was calling my mother and saying “Why did you leave me? What wrong have I done? Am I not your child? Why have you gone so far away from me?”  

After recovering from the fever, I resumed my college. But I was not my original self. The brightness in my eyes had diminished. I was immersed in other thoughts. All my enthusiasm disappeared and I didn’t feel like doing anything. Earlier, within a few months of my joining the college,   I had made a mark for myself with the faculty and students by being a very pleasant and cheerful student. My roommate, Gopinath, noticed my emotional turmoil and informed the hostel warden, Father Miranda, a Jesuit Priest. Confused by my uncharacteristic behaviour, the Father enquired about my health and then about my studies.

Slowly the conversation turned to my family background. As it reached the topic of my parents, I simply could not control my emotions and told him all about my childhood and how I missed my parents and started crying in front of the Father.

The Revered Father put his hand on my back and said, “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine soon. You just tell me whatever you know about your mother. Your Doctor Aunt or your Uncle might have told you something about your mother. We shall see what can be done.”  

The Plan

My Aunt had mentioned that she had heard of my mother being in Amritsar (Punjab) many years ago and was possibly working in a convent school.

 When I told this to the Father, he simply smiled and said, “Alright. No one likes to see you with such a sad face.”

Then the Father said, “Our College is organizing a student excursion to North India. And the Principal has put me in charge of the trip. You enrol for this trip immediately. You will surely see your mother. I am just writing to the Father in Amritsar. Don’t worry any more. Cheer up.”

I found myself somewhat assured and my sadness slowly reduced. Very soon, the notice for that excursion was put up on the notice board of the college. My Aunt, willingly allowed me to go and also paid for the trip.

Time moved quickly and the students were soon gripped in the fear of examinations. Some of them lost touch with the external world. A few others found themselves in a totally confused and helpless situation. Some others gave up all hope and returned to their respective homes saying that they would attempt next year. The entire atmosphere at the hostel was grim. I studied hard not worrying about anything else.

The North India Trip

 Months passed, and I gradually regained my cheerfulness. The day of departure arrived, and the excitement was palpable. The 30 students, including me, were set to explore various cities on a month-long adventure, starting from Vijayawada.

 Everyone was looking forward to visiting Waltair, Bhubaneswar, Jamshedpur, Calcutta, Patna, Kashi, Delhi and Simla – some of the cities. I was more enthusiastic than the others. A whole compartment was allotted to us by the railway authorities. The University in Waltair, the temple towers in Bhubaneswar, the railway factory in Chittaranjan, the steel factory in Jamshedpur and many many more! We realized how important it is to visit places and experience them rather than just sitting in the classroom and learning all that is told by the school teacher. We were very happy that we could be part of such a wonderful experience.

After about two weeks of travel, we reached Delhi in mid-May 1960. We were accommodated at a convent school. During our stay, Father Miranda received a letter from his contact in Amritsar, who confirmed my mother’s presence there and that she was overjoyed to know about her son. When I heard that I jumped up and said, “I’ll go immediately to Amritsar and meet my mother”

 Seeing this excitement in me all my friends felt very happy. But the Father went into some serious thinking and then said, “Alright. We both will go to Amritsar tomorrow and in the meanwhile, the rest of the boys will reach Simla. We shall see what happens after that.”

 My excitement surged; I was closer to reuniting with my mother. However, before I could set off to Amritsar, a twist in fate unfolded. A letter arrived for me. It was from my mother, and it stated that she was arriving in Delhi by train that night.

I was ecstatic and planned to go to the station to meet her. Then the Father called two students, “Ramarao and Gaffoor, both of you go with him to the station and get back soon”.

We took a taxi and went to Delhi railway station. It was about 10 PM. Three of us went around searching for the train coming from Amritsar. We found no end to the number of platforms in that station, but no traces of the train from Amritsar! We were disappointed and went to the enquiry office to get some information. To our horror, we were told that the train from Amritsar does not come to Delhi Junction but terminates at New Delhi station. And that the  train must have reached about half an hour ago. We immediately rushed to the New Delhi station and found that the train had arrived quite some time back. The platform was empty.

We were ruing about our futile experience and turned back to go to our lodging place. On the way back, my friend, Ramarao suddenly asked me, “Hey, have you ever seen your mother?”

 I shook my head.

“In that case, how do you think of finding your mother?” Ramarao questioned adding,  

“You don’t even have her photo with you!” 

I felt very bad about troubling my friends. It is as well that the situation was somewhat watered down since we got delayed in reaching the station. Otherwise, how would I have recognized her at all?

I was very tired and fell into a deep sleep. By the time I woke up, all the boys were ready to move out to visit some other parts of Delhi. They didn’t even bother to wait for me despite my requests. They got into the waiting bus telling me to meet them later at Connaught Place.

In the meanwhile, the Father called me into the school dining hall and offered me some milk and bread. I was quite hungry at that time and ate whatever was available on the table.

Then the Father, anticipating my thoughts, said, “We shall wait here for some time. Your mother may be hopefully coming any time now.”

We waited patiently for quite some time but there were no signs of her coming. So we left the school premises and joined the rest of the group at some hotel. From there we went round to visit more places in Delhi and reached the Red Fort. All the other boys were moving very enthusiastically watching every part of the Red Fort. I was unable to remain attentive. I was lost in my thoughts. I have been facing many disappointments since the previous night. My eagerness to see my mother was increasing minute by minute. This appeared like a game of hide and seek. So much disappointment was becoming unbearable.  Yet I felt that there was still some hope. I knew that I would be finding my mother any time now. I was looking for that fabulous moment of meeting my mother. 

At last, I met my Mother

 The entire group of students came back to our lodging place for lunch. After lunch, the Father gave us some free time to move around in Delhi during that afternoon. I stayed back at the lodging place and as that was the day before Good Friday, the Father went into the chapel for prayers.

I went inside the lodging place and tried to relax for some time thinking of all the events that happened till then. So many thoughts. When will my mother come? What will she do when she finds me? What should I do when my mother comes? How should I behave? Well, I have never seen my mother. I didn’t even know what is mother. Then how will I know what I should do?

Suddenly, I felt someone tapping to wake me up. I opened my eyes and found the Father was standing there. I looked at the watch. It was about 5 p.m. I was tired and had slept off.

I got up and asked, “Mother has not yet come?”

 He just shook his head saying “She may be coming now. You freshen up and come out to have some tea with me”.

After about ten minutes, I got ready and came out. The slanting rays of the evening Sun were glancing on my face making me feel good. The entire atmosphere was quite silent and serene apart from the noise of the vehicular movement outside the school compound.

Soon, a baby taxi rolled in from the opposite side and stopped about fifty yards away from me just in front of the school office entrance. Leaning onto the nearby tree, I was just looking at that car. A moment later, I saw a lady getting out of the car. She appeared to be around thirty-five to forty years old. She was very neatly dressed in a saree and I felt there was some charm in her simplicity.

After getting down from the taxi, as she was paying the taxi driver, she casually looked towards me. How long she looked at me, I don’t know. She stood there like a statue. I just couldn’t make out anything at that moment. I felt totally confused and maybe a little embarrassed too.

“Memsaab, paisa deejiye’ (Madam, please pay), after waiting for some time and noticing that she was still holding the money in her hand.” With this, she jolted a bit, cleared the taxi bill and walked towards the office.

I also slowly started moving towards the office area hoping to meet the Father. I might have taken just two or three steps, I found the Father coming out of the Office entrance and I halted for a moment. Then the lady who just got out of the taxi walked towards the Father and said something which I could not hear. But what I could see from that distance was a bright glow of immense happiness in the face of the Father.

Oh! She may be my mother! The thought was slowly creeping into my mind. And even before it could settle down, I saw the Father pointing towards me and saying something. I was now very sure that it must be my mother. But, hold on, I just could not get any clue of what I should do at that moment. I could see that she was rushing towards my direction. Even before I realized that she must be my mother, I moved towards her without even knowing it.

 As we stopped momentarily, the Father interjected, saying to her, ‘This is your son.’ And to me, he said, ‘This is your mother.’

 Oh, what joy and happiness!!

My lips were trembling with the unclear word “Amma”. She was whispering my name “Raja”.

Both of us did not know when we got into each other’s arms. My mother was holding me close to her. I did not want that moment to end. I knew that I finally got that wonderful and inexplicable experience of a mother’s love, which I was deprived of all these years. Yes. I found my mother after seventeen long years. That was the day when my dreams came true. That was indeed the sweetest day of my life.

 Tears of immense joy were streaming out of our eyes and both of us didn’t want to let go of that moment. I slowly turned my eyes to the side and found that great, wonderful and kindest man, the revered Father Miranda. My heart was filled with an enormous amount of gratitude towards him. But my tear-filled eyes were blurred a bit and I could not see him. There was nobody else around. Then I wiped my eyes on my mother’s shoulder and saw the Father had taken out his spectacles and was wiping his eyes. I could not bear to see the tears in the eyes of the Father and my tears found no barriers. My mother also was not able to do anything about her unstoppable tears.

 How long we stood there, I do not know. Only when the Father called us saying

 “Ok. Mother and son. Please come inside. We can sit inside and spend time more comfortably”

We walked into the visitors’ room of the office and three of us settled ourselves in three sofas. But nobody was saying anything. My mother and I were sitting facing each other with a look of total satisfaction eyes still filled with tears of joy. And no one was making any attempts to talk. My mind slowly slipped into a confused state. The problem was, how should I address my mother? With my Andhra background, the only term that came to mind was ‘Amma. That was how I heard my friends addressing their mothers. But Should I use this Telugu word? My mother does not know any South Indian language. And somehow I wasn’t comfortable using English-oriented words like “Mummy” or “Mom”.  So what to do? Then it struck me that I can use the Hindi word “Ma”! Oh, yes. This would be nice. I felt that I had somehow resolved the issue of addressing my mother.

 The Revered Father was watching our silence very patiently and must have felt that something should be done to bring us back into some normal situation. He got up from his sofa and said that he had some work inside and would come back soon. Both my mother and I were left alone together. The first thing my mother asked was about her second son, “How is Mohan?”

Then she started enquiring about my various other family members. After giving all the details of my Uncle, Aunt and others, I told her about what I have been doing over the years. When she got to know that her son was studying B.Sc., she was immensely pleased.

Two hours later, the Father returned, and we enjoyed some tea in the visitors’ room. My mother then thanked the Revered Father profusely and asked for his permission to take me with her to meet her mother and some of her family members. Giving an assurance to the Father that she will personally bring me back to the school lodging place she took me along with herself to her mother’s place. However, since my grandmother was not at home at that time, I met my mother’s sister-in-law, who is my aunt. I had a meal at her place, and then my mother took me back to my lodging. She departed, promising to return the next day. I was exhausted with so much happiness.

I was able to sleep peacefully that night!