Dhruv Saxena

I’m an Economics graduate. And of late, I find myself explaining life in the terms that I learned in college. For instance, there’s a word in economics called “opportunity cost.” It means everything you give up when you choose one thing over another.

My mother never studied Economics. But she has spent her entire life paying opportunity costs she never even counted. I’m sure your mother has had a very similar journey. How, you ask? Let me explain.

But first up, this isn’t a guilt trip. I promise. It’s more like a list of things you’ve probably stopped noticing. Things that happened so quietly, and so consistently, that they became invisible.

Read through slowly. This won’t be an easy one.

1. She ate the burnt roti

Every single time. She stood at the tawa, flipping rotis for everyone else, and by the time she sat down, the last one was slightly charred at the edges. She ate it without mentioning it. You got the soft, puffed one. You didn't even notice, did you?

2. She took the smallest piece of everything

The last piece of chicken. The corner slice of a cake. The bruised part of the mango. She always said she didn't want much. She always said she was almost full. Really, though?Was she really full?

3. She wore the same saree to three different weddings

And she made sure you had something new for each one. She mixed and matched her blouses, draped it differently each time, hoped nobody noticed. You noticed, maybe. You didn't say anything. Neither did she.

4. She turned the AC off after you fell asleep

She’d wait until she was sure you were out, then quietly reach for the remote and push the temperature up. Or switch it off entirely. You’d wake up slightly warm. She’d already be in the kitchen, or her place of work.

5. She saved the good biscuits for you

The ones in the fancy tin, the new packet of Sunfeast Mom’s Magic. She'd have the plain Marie with her chai. You'd find the good ones untouched and assume nobody wanted them. She wanted them. Ofcourse, she did. Isn’t she just as human as you are?

6. She lied about not being hungry

“I ate while cooking,” she'd say. Sometimes it was true. Often it wasn’t. She just didn’t want to wait for everyone to finish so she could have her turn.

7. She didn't book her own doctor’s appointment for months

Yours? Oh yes. Your father’s, yes. Her own knee pain, her own headaches, the thing she’d been meaning to get checked, those waited. There was always something more urgent on someone else’s list.

8. She sat in the middle seat

On long drives, on flights when there were only middle seats left, on buses. She never said anything. She just slid in without making it a conversation.

She gave you the window.

Always. On trains, on flights, everywhere. She said she’d seen enough scenery. You stared out at everything passing by while she read, or dozed, or just sat there.

9. She skipped the movie she wanted to watch

Because you wanted something else on TV. Because you’d had a long day. Because it seemed like a small thing to give up. She watched her shows only when everyone else was asleep, volume low, in the dark.

10. She carried the heaviest bag

Not because she was stronger. Because she didn’t want you to strain yourself. She’d adjust it from shoulder to shoulder, wincing slightly, and wave off any offer to take it.

11. She stayed up until you got home

Even when you were in your twenties. Even when you told her not to. She'd pretend to be asleep when you walked in so you wouldn't feel guilty. You knew. She knew you knew.

12. She made your favourite dish on your bad days, without asking what was wrong

She could read it in your face, in the way you walked in, in the silence over dinner. She didn’t push. She just quietly made the thing that might help. And it always did.

13. She cried at your achievements when you weren't looking

After the result came, after the job offer, after the wedding. When you were busy talking to someone else, she’’d step away, compose herself, and come back with a normal face. You caught her once or twice. She pretended she had dust in her eye. Haha, the classic!

14. She never told you what she sacrificed for you to be where you are.

Not because she didn't know. She knew exactly. But she understood, somewhere deep down, that listing it would make love feel like debt. So she kept it to herself, and loved you the same.

That’s the thing about small sacrifices. They don't feel like sacrifices when you're making them. They feel like just... what you do. What love looks like on an ordinary Tuesday.

She didn’t keep score. She didn’t want you to keep score either.

But every once in a while, it’s worth pausing and seeing what's actually been happening all along.

The burnt roti is merely a metaphor for everything she’s quietly been doing. Maybe today you order her favourite meal. Or take the middle seat. Or just call and say, without any particular reason, that you were thinking about her. Or maybe, just smile at her more often. Hug her. Hold her hand.

It doesn't have to be a big gesture. She never made big gestures either. That was kind of her whole thing.

I, for one, will be taking home her favourite Sunfeast Mom’s Magic biscuit and won’t touch it like she never touched my biscuits. It’ll be hers.