Tribute to a great woman!

Everyone's mom is the best. Though mathematically it seems odd because according to mathematicians most populations of species have a distribution from worst to best. Moms however defy all laws. So let me establish that my mom is the best. Yes, your mom is the best too! Yeah his mom is the best and her mom is the best and everyone's moms is the best!

The lady that I am paying tribute to can be an inspiration to anyone. She is a personification of cheerfulness, grit, determination, duty-mindedness, humility, endearing, etc. (At this point I spent quite some time and realized that I was spending way too much time on something that has no limits and no justification despite the number and quality of words used.) The lady I am paying tribute to has no achievements, whatsoever, that the world recognizes. She doesn't even have her degree certificate (B.Com from Osmania University) to prove she is a graduate. But she has achieved a lot indeed. Read on...

Born as, Ramalakshmi Gidugu to Dr Narasimha Rao and Mrs Rajeshwari Gidugu in Nellore, she was the second child and eldest of the 5 daughters the couple had. She quickly became a favorite of one and all. She was plump and chubby to look and was very active and naughty. With every year, she was more of a tomboy. She'd beat up her elder brother's friends and bully them. She'd climb trees and steal mangoes and fruits. She'd make her own catapult and use it to pluck fruits. She'd leave home after an early breakfast, only to find herself relishing another breakfast at the neighbor's house. Then she'd leave, only to stuff more into her stomach at another neighbor's place. (It was usual for people to spot my mom on the road and be tempted to call the chubby looking girl and feed her more.) My mom wouldn't deny them that pleasure. She became the only person to have the privilege to give her piece of mind to the village head (called Munsab).

Life was all rosy for this happy-go-lucky girl who lived in the beautiful countryside of Andhra Pradesh. At school she'd dread Hindi classes and just pass the time by sitting in the back bench. By college time she retained most of her happy-go-lucky and carefree ways. She had friends around her who liked her company. She had a friend who wrote a poem on her. She was adored and admired by everyone. She never harmed anyone but was capable of seeing the possible harm that a person may do to her and was capable to fight ten words with just one effective word. She reserved her sharp tongue for those who'd, unaware of her capability, attack her verbally. It wasn't until a few months ago that I saw a picture of her college time and reformed my image of her. By the standard of those days, she was a beautiful lady. And I used to think she was plump and fairly okay to look at. This is despite the many times I saw an uncountable number of people not believing their ears when my mom would tell that she had a son as old as I am!

Let me jump to her married life.

Marrying a man who worked in a big metropolitan city - Mumbai - isn't easy. Living in Mumbai was impossible for most people. This lady didn't know Hindi - at least that would have enabled her to manage and survive daily life. Let us just say that apart from Telugu she couldn't speak another language. This was in 1983. When we left Mumbai to live in Bengaluru (2000) she had unbelievable lot of friends speaking different tongues. The amusing part was that two women speaking the same tongue trusted my mom more than the other woman. They all would come to my mom. I was amazed! It is hard to list down everything but I'll end this post here abruptly, only to continue in my future posts. Those posts will mention amusing anecdotes from her life in Mumbai.

To conclude this post, she is a magical lady, a Goddess, an inspiration to live and thrive. Mom, here's wishing you a Happy Birthday.