The three words, "I love you" have been uttered by me with real ease over the time.Not that I am in the habit if declaring my love for each and every person whom I set my eyes upon(Although I know some of my so called friends do accuse me for such stunts as well).My boy friend has been literally showered by the blessed words for the past few years that I am afraid it might feel to him like an ordinary " Good morning" or a " See ya later".Then again since I am this creature with the habit of complicating all my friendships I end up loving most of my friends too and so they receive a generous portion of the words as well.But the curious thing is I can never utter those words easily when it comes to declaring my love for my parents. One of my friends(quite jokingly I hope) suggested that it may be due to me not loving them enough. But I know for sure I do. I do love them a lot,but have never uttered those words in any language except for a few times to my mom, which we both allowed to float away into thin air,pretending it was one of my thousand and one jokes.
I am never going to say that mine were the perfect parents.They never were and I hope never will be.Well, if they were the perfect idol of parenthood on whom was I to lay the blame on the crazy person I turned out to be. Or may be it is really the other way around, having me as the first child to handle, a complete nightmare which made them give up their dream of being the prefect parents one could dream of.Anyway, life sure was not easy for any of us I am sure,a fact that would be justified by many of my childhood memories of endless clashes and fights.But, looking back, may be those bumps on the road were meant to be there after all to make us really treasure the smooth paved paths intermingled between those awful bumps.Yes, if not for my dear Amma and Daddo who became so upset when I became the Second of the class and who wondered what really happened to the other 27 marks when I came out of the year five scholarship with 173,I would definitely not have gone through the Medical School and would have instead settled down as a teacher or a writer as I always dreamed. Yet,I would not even in my dreams wish for anyone other than these two because I can occasionally glimpse the immense love that is hidden behind all that bumps in the road.My mom gave birth to me a 4.5kg baby in a normal delivery when the average baby who comes out the same way is only around 2.5kg. She could not put me down even then and had to carry me around with her while doing her first long distance appointment as a teacher. Since then she has always been pushing me forward to places where I know I wouldn't even dream of setting my foot.And she thinks she knows the best(And god help those who try to prove her otherwise)And if she has failed in bringing me up she has it compensated by bringing up generations of .kids at two schools and a .On the other hand Daddo has always been my protective guard(may be a bit too much though at times),frowning at all the poor guys in the vicinity even if they were completely unaware of my mere presence there.it was he who took me to English days in Colombo,who trained my tongue to the flavor of many Indian dishes and the greatest admirer of my clumsy attempts at playing the piano.
May be I would never tell those two that I love them in words. May be don't have the courage to do so due to the fear of the response or may be I just can't express what I feel in those three simple words.But I am sure they know in between the bumps on the road they mean the world to one crazy soul.
I am never going to say that mine were the perfect parents.They never were and I hope never will be.Well, if they were the perfect idol of parenthood on whom was I to lay the blame on the crazy person I turned out to be. Or may be it is really the other way around, having me as the first child to handle, a complete nightmare which made them give up their dream of being the prefect parents one could dream of.Anyway, life sure was not easy for any of us I am sure,a fact that would be justified by many of my childhood memories of endless clashes and fights.But, looking back, may be those bumps on the road were meant to be there after all to make us really treasure the smooth paved paths intermingled between those awful bumps.Yes, if not for my dear Amma and Daddo who became so upset when I became the Second of the class and who wondered what really happened to the other 27 marks when I came out of the year five scholarship with 173,I would definitely not have gone through the Medical School and would have instead settled down as a teacher or a writer as I always dreamed. Yet,I would not even in my dreams wish for anyone other than these two because I can occasionally glimpse the immense love that is hidden behind all that bumps in the road.My mom gave birth to me a 4.5kg baby in a normal delivery when the average baby who comes out the same way is only around 2.5kg. She could not put me down even then and had to carry me around with her while doing her first long distance appointment as a teacher. Since then she has always been pushing me forward to places where I know I wouldn't even dream of setting my foot.And she thinks she knows the best(And god help those who try to prove her otherwise)And if she has failed in bringing me up she has it compensated by bringing up generations of .kids at two schools and a .On the other hand Daddo has always been my protective guard(may be a bit too much though at times),frowning at all the poor guys in the vicinity even if they were completely unaware of my mere presence there.it was he who took me to English days in Colombo,who trained my tongue to the flavor of many Indian dishes and the greatest admirer of my clumsy attempts at playing the piano.
May be I would never tell those two that I love them in words. May be don't have the courage to do so due to the fear of the response or may be I just can't express what I feel in those three simple words.But I am sure they know in between the bumps on the road they mean the world to one crazy soul.
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