Passport, Profession & Mother….
An enduring yet moving story on the unsung, uncelebrated and neglected role of a mother in a family whose struggle for fulfilment of dreams of her near and dear ones always keeps her on tenterhooks. Read on…
The old passport office in Brabourne Road in erstwhile Calcutta; peak office hour and a beeline of passport seekers engaged in bitter wrangling over who overshot the queue and wrongfully tried to sneak in without being caught.
A lady in her late 40s who turned up at the counter after waiting for an exhaustive four hours, was initially overawed at the query of the passport officer. “What is your profession?”
“I am a mother and I believe that’s my only profession.”
“You aren’t joking I believe,” the officer looked askance at her.
“Absolutely not; I am proud to be a mother and I feel I have been professionally performing my duties and responsibilities at home,” the lady’s face brightened up before she shot back.
“Sorry, I can’t write that as your profession in the designated column.”
“Why not? It’s not my fault; if the column in your form has no space or option for that, I’m sure that’s your problem,” the firm reply from the lady turned the officer a little nervous.
But presently he recovered and told the lady politely, “I understand what you’re trying to mean. Let’s not argue. I’ll mark you as a housewife.”
“Do whatever you’d like to, but I can’t change my profession. That should be quite clear,” the lady’s asserting tone refused to get diluted.
The officer nodded in agreement. The passport was done without any further hassle.
Nearly three years passed and the due date for renewal of the passport finally arrived. Streaks of grey hair struggled to peep out of the locks of the lady as she appeared at the same office for the renewal.
Incidentally, the previous officer had been transferred and replaced by a hard-looking, tough one who happened to be quite fastidious and bore the look of a strict disciplinarian. When the turn of the lady arrived, she stepped in with due gravity, a layer of modesty seemingly hidden.
“What’s is your profession?” an old, familiar question greeted the lady.
“I am a researcher and involved in devious challenging projects. I do research on the psychological mindset of children by observing and working with them 24 X 7. On top of it, I also look after the elders and provide them with due care.”
“My tireless toil and sincere labour help build the fabric and foundation of the society and state”, the lady continued without any interruption “Every moment, I have to pass through challenging situations which require deft and assiduous handling.”
“A momentary lapse on my part could cause monumental damage which is why I can’t afford to be slack on my research projects.” With this, the lady paused for a while. The officer who kept on listening to her all this while with rapt attention, seemed to allow the veil of toughness to go for a brief walk along the corridor.
“Actually, it would have been a little better if you could shed some more light on the projects you are presently handling,” the officer’s tone was close to pleading.
“In fact, work on the research projects have been evolving throughout my life; I keep shuttling between laboratory and the field outside. Recently, I’ve undertaken projects on sociology, family health and moral education that keep me engaged nearly 14/15 hours a day.”
A filial respect towards the lady now began visibly oozing out of the officer’s demeanour as he appeared to be interacting with such a personality, specially a lady, for the first time in his life.
“Would you believe I hardly get even a holiday…just imagine every profession has a little bit of recess, I mean, time for relaxation. I am perhaps the sole exception… I am kind of call-on-duty 24 X 7”.
Speechless would be too meagre an expression to describe the astute officer. He was vaguely reminded of a lady in his life whom he was struggling desperately to identify, but the memory chip declined to cooperate..
“You might be keen to know the remuneration in return that I might receive for my research work. Sorry, nothing worth mentioning; just an overwhelming peace and an all-pervasive smile from my family members. And that’s all.”
“However, as a recognition of my sincere research work, I am happy to share with you, authorities have crowned me with as many as three gold medals.”
The last assertion from the lady sent, as if, a shiver down the spine of the officer who stood up, groping for a proper salutation to address the lady. The first signs of rain in a cloudless sky seemed to be gathering in his eyes as he kept his search on down the memory lane despite everything around blurring his vision.
“My last question. Would you please elaborate on the gold medals you’ve just spoken.” The officer sounded quite apologetic.
“Oh, the medals!” A satisfactory smile lit up the face of the lady. “My daughter an IITian, my husband a successful dermatologist and my in-laws are absolutely hale and hearty.”
“Now, if you kindly permit me to share my profession with you,” the lady went softer than ever, “I am just a mother…continuing with my research ceaselessly.”
The officer, now completely flabbergasted, could somehow manage to lead the lady out of the room with hands folded.
As the officer gradually returned to his chair with a thud, rains already started sans the thunder clouds. His hands quickly reached the drawer under the table and slowly out came a soiled, but recognisable old photograph.
“Ma…where are you Ma…” what he mumbled thereafter faded indistinctly into the closed vault of his chamber.
A pall of silence reigned for sometime thereafter as the officer took time to regain his composure. No more questions; the new passport, renewed for a period of ten years, reached its destination in due course.
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