“Pregnant with Twins!” When the news finally sank in, I desperately prayed I would have identical twin girls. Being a mother of a beautiful boy, all I now wanted was a daughter.

I consider my own mother to be one of my best friends. I can talk to her about anything and everything. As a woman, she understood me beyond words, pauses and awkward silences.

Yes of course, as a teenager, we had our fair share of heated arguments. And despite our personality differences, she was the first one who understood me when I chopped my long flowing tresses after a bad breakup. She did have her hands full at times but calmly took it all in stride.

When I became a young woman, it was my mother who understood the pain of a young woman in love. She understood my desperate need to drop out of the dentistry school and my desire to go to far-flung Australia to pursue an entirely different career. After becoming a mother myself, I can understand how difficult it would have been for her to let her little girl go out into the world by herself. Every long distance phone call must have been a sigh of relief for her.

She lost her own mother when she was only three years old. She never had the same freedom as I did. She was intelligent, artistic, creative and very talented. She could have gone places if she had had the same opportunities and education as me. When she was first pregnant with me, she chose to give up her much coveted National Institute of Design acceptance in Ahmedabad because I had become her top priority. My father, being a progressive and supportive husband, encouraged her to pursue her dream but for her I was the dream. She wanted to make sure that her daughter got all the opportunities, education and freedom in life that she was denied.

I fondly remember that my mother used to sew beautiful dreamlike dresses for me and my dolls. She used to help me with my school projects and homework. She used to prepare delicious and nutritious meals for me and my siblings. All my friends used to look forward to my birthday parties.

After moving overseas we have become even closer. We both cherish our long conversations on the phone, our heartfelt letters, and small thoughtful parcels to each other. I have noticed that as I am getting older, I am becoming more and more like my mother and have much better understanding of why she did what she did in her life.

When I became a mother for the first time, my mother became my guide, my philosopher. As a woman she understands all my aches and pains. She was my pillar of strength emotionally, physically and mentally all throughout my pregnancy and afterwards.
As a family, we celebrated Mother’s Day in March although many others in the world celebrate in May. Mother’s Day, while now more commercial than ever before, is still a celebration of motherhood. When my 8 year old boy and my twins (a boy AND a girl!) bring home little handmade cards, and other crafts for me, I feel a sense of euphoria. They are pridefully displayed in my home, these declarations of ever so confidently “mumy I luv u”, with colourful little hand prints and wrong spellings.

Now that I am a mother of three beautiful children, I want to be just like my mother. I want to be my daughter’s best friend. I want my daughter to achieve her full potential and all I want to say to her is, “Dream BIG, Princess”, just like that Disney song that I often watch with her. When it comes on I notice her big twinkling eyes and an angelic smile on her sparkling face. Corny?  Sure, but oh so cute and appealing, especially to a 3 year old girl! SO, I repeat, “DREAM BIG, PRINCESS.”