The Momma Clan

The smell of cardamom and cinnamon filled Aisha’s cozy kitchen. Outside, the Bangalore rain tapped softly on the window, a familiar sound. Aisha stirred the biryani, her movements calm and easy. Cooking was her way of turning feelings into something good to eat.

Aisha’s life was a mix of happy and challenging times. There were the bright moments with her family – her husband, always there for her, and her two grown-up kids, whose laughter and dreams meant everything to her. But there were also the harder times, the worries, the doubts, the feeling that she was not good enough. 

Life’s a kitchen, spices so bright,

Mix in your passions, with all your might.

A dash of self-love, a sprinkle of dreams,

Your heart’s own recipe, it brightly gleams.

Tonight, the rain made her think about the past. As she stirred the pot, she remembered the good times, the happy years, the joy of being a mom. These were like the bright colours in a picture.

Then there were the tough times. Raising two kids while working, the feeling that she had to be perfect, the times when her own dreams seemed to disappear. These were like the darker colours, not so happy, but still part of the picture. Sometimes she felt lost, like she was just doing things for everyone else, and her own voice was quiet. That old feeling of not being good enough would come back.

“Mumma, that smells amazing!” Her youngest son, Lakshit, burst into the kitchen, his energy a stark contrast to her quiet contemplation. “What’s for dinner?”

“Biryani, beta,” Aisha replied, smiling. “Your favourite.”

“Cool! Can I help?”

“Of course,” she said, handing him a bowl of raita. “You can stir this.”

But Aisha had learned something important, how to connect with herself. She found comfort in writing down her thoughts, the stories, feelings in her heart. Writing was her special place, where she could understand herself better. It was her way of telling her own story. And then there was the cooking. It was not just a chore anymore. It was how she showed what she felt. The smell of spices, making something yummy. These were times when she felt happy and peaceful. Every dish was like a little story. Sometimes it was a simple meal, like her mom used to make, reminding her of home. Other times it was something new and different, showing how she was growing.

From quiet whispers to stories untold, 

Aisha’s spirit, brave and bold. 

With pen and pan, she finds her way, 

Self-love is the magic, that brightens her day.

Aisha learned that loving herself is not about big things. It is about the small things, taking care of herself, thinking about what she needs, and being brave enough to follow her dreams. It is about knowing that she is valuable, not just as a mom and wife, but as Aisha, a woman with her own special talents and a loving heart.

Later, as her husband, Tarun, walked in, tired but smiling, Aisha felt a warmth spread through her. “Smells delicious,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Long day.”

“Tell me about it,” she replied, as she served him a plate. “But first, eat.”

“How was your day?” he asked, between bites.

Aisha hesitated. “Good,” she said, then added, “I actually finished that chapter I was working on. The one about…”

Vikram nodded, encouraging her. “The one about your childhood? That’s great, Aisha.”

As she put the biryani on the plates, Aisha thought about her family. They were her rock, her best friends, the people who loved her just the way she was. And she knew that loving herself made her love for them even stronger.

The rain outside was now just a soft drizzle, and the smell of the biryani made the house warm and cozy. Aisha smiled, a real smile that made her eyes light up. She had been through a lot, good times and bad, and she had created a life that was beautiful and just for her. The love inside her, which used to be small, was now big and strong, filling her heart and overflowing to her family. And as she sat down to eat with them, she knew that this was just one part of her story, a story she was still writing, one delicious, happy moment at a time.

The rain may fall, the days may be long, 

But Aisha’s heart, it sings a strong song. 

Self-love’s the rhythm, the beat so true, 

A life well-lived, shining through.

-Bhawana Sethi