Picture this.
A lady drops her son (about 8th standard, I guess…he was in full trousers and looked like he is in his early teens) at the main gate. She adjusts his tie. He is distinctly uncomfortable…he is at this age, where his mother is something he looks upon as “uncool”. He quickly shuffles out of the gate and begins to cross the street and wait for the bus on the other side. The mother’s eyes follow him till he is steady and at rest on the other side. Then she begins walking (for her morning exercise). At every point where the parapet allows, she looks over to the kid again.
Isn’t this why we love “mothers” in general? They are in some sense the force that sustains our big blue baby :-)
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