A 19-year-old college student, sitting on a chair on the verandah of his home, is studying for his exams. His home is situated a few hundred meters away from the road. A jeep full of policemen stops on the road. The youngster, engrossed in his studies, is blissfully unaware of the visitors, until four burly cops pounce on him, lift him from his chair and start carrying him away. He screams in protest, as they dump him on the floor on the back of the jeep like he is a sack of potatoes.
The driver turns the ignition key and the jeep starts. The next instant, he hurriedly turns off the engine and the jeep comes to a halt before it even travels a foot. The cops dismount from the jeep and look agape at a 40-plus woman standing on the road in front of the jeep.
Then the seniormost among them gathers his wits and yells at the woman, “What are you doing, here?” She is smirking. Standing with both her fists clenched and arms akimbo, she looks defiantly at the tough policeman.
“I am sub-inspector of Naupada, Thane, police station. You are obstructing our arrest, which is a criminal offence,” he barks, looking at the woman, menacingly. “Sub-Inspector you don’t seem to have a name, but my name is Maisie Pereira and I am the mother of this boy, Oswald Pereira,” she says. “Why are you arresting my son?”
“Your son is leading the protest by your people of Kolbad village against an office being built in the maidan here,” the nameless Sub-Inspector began, pointing to a 1,000-metre open space across the road.
“You are wrong, Sub-Inspector. My son has been busy studying for his exams and is not part of the agitation.”
“Please let me do my duty,” the Sub-Inspector said. “Sakharam start the jeep,” he ordered.
“Over my dead body,” she replies, calmly, continuing to stand defiantly. “Over two dead bodies,” I shout. As the other cops had collected around the Sub-Inspector, I had quietly jumped out of the jeep to stand beside my brave Mother.
Suddenly there was a roar of voices. Dozens of villagers had appeared, surrounding the jeep and the cops. “We are a democracy and not a government run like Yahya Khan in Pakistan,” says one of the villagers. Seeing the crowd, the Sub-Inspector and his men beat a hasty retreat, quickly driving away.
The high-handed behaviour of the police in trying to arrest me when I was busy studying and not even a part of the agitation, made the villagers more determined in their fight against the acquisition of the plot, which served as a lovely playground all through our childhood. My brave Mother became a leading activist in the battle. The media, too, supported the villagers and the municipal body dropped their plan to build an office on the playground.
However, this was not the first time that Mother had fought oppressors. As a 15-year-old teenager, she once flung her sandal at a 6-foot plus Pathan, who called her “Khubsoorat ladki” (beautiful girl) and tried to offer a box of dates and a packet of cashew nuts to her.
But the most dramatic display of my Mother’s bravery was a day before my ninth birthday on September 27. It was an early Sunday. I, the ‘holy’ boy, used to faithfully accompany my Mother for the first mass in Church at 5.30 a.m. She went for the first mass because that left her free for the rest of the day to do the household chores and cook the family’s special Sunday fare.
As we were on our way to Church, a stocky man with a neck that might have been as thick as a man’s upper thigh, came in our way and said in Hindi: “Memsahib, mai is mohalla ka dada, Ismail hoon. Main bahut dino sey dek raha hoon, key aap savere, savere, har Sunday kahi jaate hon, apna bacha key saath.” (Memsahib, I’m Ismail the dada of this area. I’ve been observing for a long time that you go somewhere every Sunday morning with your child.)
Then he grabbed my Mother’s hand and said in broken English, “Baby, you wanting my protection, no.”
“No,” my Mother said and slapped him hard on the face. He left her hand and raised his hand to slap her back.
I had never seen a woman punch a man before, so I was stunned when I saw Mother punch him so hard on his nose that he was bleeding rivers of blood. He sat on the ground, holding his bleeding nose while my mother held my hand and coolly walked away.
Although tough with anyone who tried to oppress her or her children, my Mother was very soft-hearted and used to shed copious tears when faced with any sadness, including us going down in our ranks in class. Our family of seven children was used to Mother monitoring our studies and her interest in our academic performance was no easy task. If it was not our studies, then there were other small reasons that made her cry. We would fondly call her Tragedy Queen Meena Kumari and she would smile sportingly, blessed as she was with a great sense of humour.
Apart from her bravery, my Mother was a great friend and she seemed so much like one of us, always young at heart and so full of fun, that we sometimes took the liberty of calling her by her first name. She cooked herself for nine people ― seven children and parents ― and refused to hire a help to assist her, even though Dad could easily afford it, being the chief engineer of a large company.
As a young man, I was quite a recalcitrant guy, dubbed a “gone case” by family, relatives and friends. But it was Mother who never lost faith in me, and stood by me through all my downturns. I wouldn’t be where I am, were it not for Mother.
She is not here and passed away on March 20, 2014 at the age of 86. I can still feel her presence. To me, she is the world’s best and bravest Mother.
Oswald Pereira, a senior journalist, has also written eight books, including The Newsroom Mafia, Chaddi Buddies, The Krishna-Christ Connexion, How to Create Miracles in Our Daily Life and Crime Patrol: The Most Thrilling Stories. Oswald is a disciple of Paramhansa Yogananda, and practises Kriya Yoga.
Wonderful reminiscence Oswald jee!
At the outset my naman to your Mother.
Mothers are always powerful and full of SHAKTI. Like my mother your mother too was tall, courageous and fight from the front.
That police jeep and unnamed subinspector was the best scene, that portrayed her personality.
She has influenced you a lot. Her courage lies in sparks in your persona.
Sometimes I shall post a blog about my mother.
But in my case, I am more influenced by my father and was very possessive of my mother. I have assaulted anyone only twice in my life.
I was 30 years old, and my mother was 52, when I was coming out of Railway Station, hired a reckshaw to go home. The reckshawpuller addressed my mother BUDHI – old woman when she was about to align the reckshaw.
It hurted me so much that, I gave a good thrash to the reckshaw puller and gave a lecture on good behavior. The reckshaw puller begged apology, touched my mother’s feet, and we came home.
My mother was very annoyed with me and did not approve my action. I tried to explain her about the telgu reckshaw puller’s lack of manners.
But my mother was adamant. She did not approve my bitting and after we reached home, paid 100/- more over and above fare requesting the reckshawpuller not to hold any grievance against her son.
Mothers are real incarnation of God Oswald jee. And you have done an incredible job writing about your Mother, when Sasthi Pooja of Maa Durga is going on now.
Nice post.
Thank you, Manas Das Jee.
Yes, indeed, every Mother is Divine Mother.
She sacrifices so many things for her children and gives them unconditional love.
A Mother is willing to sacrifice even her life for her children.
May God bless and guide us to imbibe some of the qualities of our Mothers.
That’s a beautiful write up of Mom Oswald. She was our Hero. Stood by all of us and stood up for all of us too! She was loving and caring and entertained all our friends. Every summer our home was like a summer club with all our friends hanging out with us. I could not ask for anyone better to be a strong influence in my life ❤️
Miss her and talk to her everyday. Feel her presence with me all the time.
Yes, Marlene, we all have inherited some of her bravery and fearlessness, but nothing close to the original Mom.
Great read! Was awesome reading a story about one of me favourite Aunty’s (Marlene Pereira) mum!
Thank you, Joshua.
Beautiful narrative and lovely pictures. Only met Maisie once but heard countless stories from Malu. I understand the impact she’s had on all her children. Gone but never forgotten ?
True, Marcela, gone but never forgotten is a perfect expression to describe a beloved Mother.
You should add in how fond she was of all her grand kids, and how the eldest one started calling her “Maisie Mama”, to be able to distinguish between his two grandmothers, and then that name stuck with all her daughters and sons in law too! 🙂
Chris, forgot to mention your role as the naming Godfather and the pioneer of the expression Maisie Mama.
Always love to read your articles. Just brings out our own imagination to add to your story.
Thank you, Anuja for your support.
Very interesting and poignant story. Your mother was indeed a very dynamic woman. Nothing can ever beat the mother’s love! 🙂
True, Arjun.
या देवी सर्वभूतेषु शक्ति-रूपेण संस्थिता।
नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमो नमः॥
या देवी सर्वभूतेषु शक्ति-रूपेण संस्थिता।
नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमस्तस्यै नमो नमः॥
Only Mother, None other!
Prostrations to Mother Oswald Ji, whole life will fall short to sing the glory of Mother who is merely living manifestation of Mother Shakti an all permeating, enveloping canopy of love for us all.
???माँ ???
Baturamji, yes our Mothers are a living manifestation of Mother Shakti. They do give us unconditional love.
What a brave woman! Inspired and admiration for your mother.
She was, indeed, brave, Munira.
Oswald, you have managed to beautifully capture the memories of our dear mom. The incident you describe about the cops is deeply impeded in my memory, ” over my dead body,” as she stood with both her arms on her waist like the brave Pathan she was.
Yet, she made every person into her son or daughter❤️, listening to their woes as if they were her own kids.
Even a stray cat or dog found a place in her heart and home.
Her table was never empty and despite cooking for a family of 7 kids and her husband, at least a few unannounced guests could eat a complete meal at her table.
Her green fingers is something she has passed on to her daughter’s, as all of them who love gardening.
Her cooking skills were the talk of the town and many of the villagers asked her for her recipes, as they smacked their lips.
I don’t think anyone could ask for a more perfect mother than her.
My beautiful Aunt. Somewhere along the way my sis and I called her Mama Maisie too. I did see her as being always was kind, loving and fearless 🙂 But had no idea just how fearless she was 🙂
I recall the days 22 years ago when my mum her younger sister passed away she called me twice a day to check on me to see if I was doing alright.
Beautiful memories Oswald, honouring mum ❤❤❤
Melanie, the sisters were very close to each other.
Memories of Mom, we cherish forever.
She was indeed a braveheart …. an example to us to stand up to wrong criticism about everything our kiddos……ourselves …..
An innovative cook she could turn simple potatoes into a mouth watering …. lip smacking dish….an avid learner picked up Marathi and even though she was not an East Indian, could cook authentic East Indian cuisine …..something Daddy papa was very keen about….
A great story teller and a fantastic sense of humor….Thank you Father God for this gift …. Maisie Ma.
Thank you, Cheryl for your lovely comment. Yes, Mom was a great cook with a fantastic sense of humour.
Well written; straight out of the memories treasured in your heart. Truly a lovely tribute to your dear mom. I remember her as a very calm serene lady always smiling. May Her Soul Rest in Peace ??.
Thank you, Bernadine.
Yes, Mom was calm and serene most of the time.
That was a wonderful reminiscent of the past . I wonder if she had not been there on that fateful day to protect you things would have been difficult for you. Cannot understand why the inspectors chose you to be taken away when you were not even the part of the agitation . Yes..no doubt that is what strong women are made up of. To manage family of seven is not an easy task and that too without assistance. Nowadays if the helper is on leave the women of house go restless. Marathi is something which makes connection with me too
Great , you have inherited a lot from her…very inspiring story ..
Thank you, Seema Saxena. The police did register a case against me and my mother. But massive protests by residents and support from the media made them withdraw the false charges and the municipal authorities, too, backed out.
That maidan now has become a thoroughfare for access to buildings across. Our glorious village, once so beautiful has become a concrete jungle with multistoried apartment complexes dotting the place. There was a village well, which has been covered with concrete. It had been a source of water for the villagers and those living outside and on the periphery of the village, apart from the sole public tap.
Now, of course, all households have piped water. The centuries-old Banyan tree is shrinking in size. It has been covered all around with concrete. Earlier, it had natural mud and stones around. Facing the banyan tree is a Shiva temple. There are many legends around it. One of them is that a young lion used to sit on the steps and guard the temple at night after some thieves tried to steal from it.
To answer your question, why the police chose me, it was part of their tactics of intimidation to pick on vulnerable targets like youngsters. We had hired a lawyer to file a case against the police but we withdrew it after the police withdrew their charges.
Beautifully written article.expressing so much love for his mother who was also a friend. Really enjoyed every word n incidents mentioned.
Thank you, Anita.
An excellent tribute to this Goddess Durga
No wonder she has moulded you all into such wonderful human beings.
Lakshmi Yeolekar
Thank you, Lakshmi.
Yes, we have been cast in her mould.
What a great testimony of courage. A true pioneer for the voice of a woman! So wonderful to recognize and validate your moms strength. Beautiful write up. I see her reflection in her daughter – our dear Marlene ?
True, Anna.There’s a reflection of Mom in Marlene and her other children.
Dear Oswald,
Your memoir about the brave acts of your mother is very authentic and inspiring. Strength of character and trust on the almighty makes a person fearless. She had the courage and rage to fight like a tigress to save her cub. Your becoming a crime reporter is the outcome of your mothers tryst to fight against injustice. Your becoming a journslist and then an author is the result of the hot blood that runs in your veins. Nevertheless you felt that the pen is mightier than the sword and the crusade against injustice continues . Your son Arjun, as i have known him is a brave and senstive young man. Kudos to a beautiful family with your wife Reena relentlessly moderating the tiger and the cub…..
Thank you Aseem for your kind words. Yes my Mother has been an inspiration and I have imbibed her courage and fearlessness.
It is her bravery ruuning in my veins that helped me in my career in journalism, to not be daunted by the underworld or the pressure from the high echelons of the police to overlook their failures. This made me one of the most successful crime reporters in Mumbai.
Throughout my life I have not made any compromises, thanks again to the lessons in uprightness by Mother.
Oswald, you have managed to beautifully capture the memories of our dear mom. The incident you describe about the cops is deeply impeded in my memory, ” over my dead body,” as she stood with both her arms on her waist like the brave Pathan she was.
Yet, she made every person into her son or daughter❤️, listening to their woes as if they were her own kids.
Even a stray cat or dog found a place in her heart and home.
Her table was never empty and despite cooking for a family of 7 kids and her husband, at least a few unannounced guests could eat a complete meal at her table.
Her green fingers is something she has passed on to her daughter’s, as all of them who love gardening.
Her cooking skills were the talk of the town and many of the villagers asked her for her recipes, as they smacked their lips.
I don’t think anyone could ask for a more perfect mother than her.
Your mother was so inspiring and truly a great soul! An expression of the Divine Mother… One of the qualities I really appreciate is bravery, and that shone brightly in her. Thanks for sharing about her, dear Uncle.
Joy!
Thank you, Gunnika. Yes, my mother was really brave.
We, her children, have imbibed some of her bravery.