At 4 a.m., the world in Delhi was still dark. The sky carried a quiet gray haze, the kind that hung in the air before the sun rose. The streets would soon fill with honking buses, vendors arranging pyramids of fruits and the sudden gusts of wind that send dust spiraling through the fog.
But before any of that chaos began, my mom was already awake.
While I slept, she packed my lunch with my favorite foods. She ironed my uniform, not leaving a single crease.
With every ponytail she tied, there were careful fingers making sure not to pull a single hair.
She never woke me up, rushed or stressed, even though she knew she would soon spend up to five hours commuting on a crowded bus through the noisy, smog-filled streets of Delhi.
Five hours a day. I used to think that was normal.
Only later did I understand what that meant: standing in packed buses, holding onto metal rails, dust settling onto her clothes while the wind picked up the constant hum of traffic and voices blending together.
She stands up for me without hesitation. Over and over again.
Be it anything, even a difficult situation or moment when I doubt myself, she is there, steady and unwavering.
And then there are the small things. Paneer paratha appears on my plate the exact day I mention my craving. Maggi somehow tastes better when she makes it, even though I follow the same steps. Late-night conversations about the silliest topics that somehow turn into life lessons.
Love for her is not loud.
It is consistent. It is in the early morning alarms. In the long commutes. In the sacrifices she never lists. In the way she still travels hours at a time just to make sure my brother and I have access to the best education possible.
During Women’s History Month, we celebrate women who changed history.
But history is also shaped quietly in kitchens before sunrise, on buses before dawn and in the courage it takes to leave one country for another so your children can dream bigger.
My mom may never see her name in a textbook. But she built the future I get to live. And every time she calls me beta, I am reminded that while I slept, she was already awake, building the life that raised me.
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