When they got laid

In all probability, pigeons were put on this planet to remind migrants how exactly they behave in public. Full of pomposity. Full of lust. Full of pirouette. Full of oneself. Full of homelessness. And oh yea, full of shit. But your perception about them changes the moment they decide to build a nest in your gallery on the very pot which once housed a suicidal rose plant. Although it takes two to build a home, you see a pair of pigeons basically doing none of the hardwork sparrows put into their shabby abode. These pigeons in our story barely move a twig. As if Mr. Pigeon is saying "Fuhget it, just lay those goddamn eggs into that dry carpet of grass there. It's warm enough." To which the Mrs. Pigeon retorts, "True that, love," before proceeding to spread her legs...well..contour for that final push. Boom! Out comes three eggs. In related news, Mrs P ain't getting laid anytime soon. This rule doesn't apply to Mr P though. From the very first day itself, it becomes apparent that she's a far better dedicated parent. The poor lady, however, took some time to realise that Mr P has ditched her. He's not coming back. Let's hope he got caught in an orgy instead of some electrical short circuit. So she has to hatch on her own every once in a while leaving her fruits of labour exposed to the crows. As misfortune would have it, she returns one afternoon to witness an egg missing. We can guess who did it but being weak in math, she remains ignorant. Being an arithmetically-challenged single mother had never proved more blissful. As we speak, she's on duty protecting her would-be-kids from invisible harm. My camera being one of them.

Maa

Heaven doesn't exist. Mothers do. They are and shall always be the purest form of love. Perhaps love was discovered by a mother as her heart wears no boundary. Besides, nobody knows you better than your mother. And there's no point in asking her whether she's proud of you. She is and will always be, no matter how great a douchebag you've become. He keeps telling her "Some day you'll be proud of me!" to which she smiles—as mothers usually do. As selfless as her mind.

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The poor mother looks at her son in amazement and wonders where has her innocent lil' boy disappeared. This was the very kid who used to point at her tummy whenever someone asked him "Where are you from?". To him, his mother has grown old now whereas to her, he remains a newborn. From a very young age, he knew we belonged to our mothers more than anything else. Birth might have separated him from her but a child actually never leaves the mother's body. As tranquil as her lap. You appreciate her more when she's gone. For more details, get in touch with those who've lost her.
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No matter how short the barber crops your hair, she will always find them long. To her, you are the most eligible bachelor. For good or worse, an Indian mother loves reminding you that she's your mother and there's a bigger chance of her inquiring "What?" instead of "Who's that lucky girl?" when you mention your marital intentions. As intrusive as her concerns. Once you settle down, you'll realize that she is present in your behaviour too. Turns out the risky habit of telling everything to your wife is cultivated during those years spent close to dear mama.

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As nourishing as her hands. Single or married, the burden on a woman pretty much remains the same. Kitchen often becomes her coveted part of home. In there, she works harder than the exhaust fan. Well, she deserves air-conditioned kitchen with no noise or steam to deal with. Almonds are good for her provided you have them. She cares for you as if her life depended on it. A mother straightaway fetches her children a glass of water whereas they ask her whether she needs a glass of water. Difference. 

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Why are they the way they are and why aren't we the way we're supposed to be? As unblemished as her intentions. Worrying is their favourite pastime. She laughs at the lil' boy's jokes, not because they were always funny, but because she thinks she's responsible for his happiness. He may turn out to be a crappy stand-up someday but it's OK for the time being. In an ideal world, we'd be celebrating Mother's Day on a daily basis. Better still, we'd be celebrating Mother's Day and Labour Day on the very same day. Ahem. Those who have a problem don't celebrate their birthdays, right?

Motherese

Despite his constant reminder that God ain’t a Mangalorean, his mother always insisted on praying in Tulu. Regardless, she continued doing her thing. He thought, perhaps, language isn’t a barrier when it comes to talking to oneself. It was only late in life he realized God created mothers so she can instill the belief in kids that God do exist.

[This short story is in the company of some really better ones here.]