Posted on: August 14, 2008 - 4:15 am
New York, NY USA August 12, 2008/ completed on Aug 14, 2008 at 4pm 3:40 pm
August 12, 1917 , Lyallpur now in Pakistan and renamed Faisalabad. 91 years ago. Today. My Mother was born. Teji Kaur Suri, a Sikh.
It is her first birthday today after her passing away on 21st December 2007.
The flower ‘torans’ shall decorate the gates of the houses in Mumbai and Delhi. Her bedroom shall get a fresh bunch of red roses, her favorite, decorated in a vase on a prominent table by her bed. Her little ornate temple in one corner shall be lit, the ‘agarbatti’s’ will be ignited. Downstairs in my Father’s room the sound system will play the Ramayan as it does every morning. My Mother’s room will remain the same. The bed is now empty and on the wall above it, hangs a framed photograph with a garland adorning the face of the most beautiful woman in the world.
We are all in New York in the midst of our Concert tour and having completed 7 venues are getting set for the next on the 15th here at the Nassau Coliseum.
Not being at home and in the vibrations of my departed parents at this moment has detached us emotionally. We are all a little quiet and contemplative – Jaya, Abhishek, Aishwarya, Bhim my nephew who works here – as we come together in my Hotel room.
No one is saying anything. Perhaps there is nothing to say.
I gather everyone around and decide to read in prayer, a few pages from the Ramayan and the Jan Gita, a translation from the original Sanskrit into the meter and language of Tulsidas’s Ramayan, by my Father.
It feels strange.
My reading is hesitant and weak. Not as resonant and strong as when the three of us, my Father and Mother and I used to recite it together in one voice early every morning at home in Delhi in Mumbai and Haridwar and Lakshman Jhoola and…
So many memories..
Now.. two of those voices silent. The sound of their support absent.
My Mother.
The dreamy yet powerful eyes. The perfect oval face. The gentle, tapered, soft hands. The most elegantly attired at any time of day. The trail of her perfume wherever she walked. The ever optimist. The ever protective. The ever fiercely possessive towards her husband and us. The brightness in a dark room. The strength in adversity. The exuberance in celebration. The believer in faith. The anger of a lioness. The stubbornness in the given word. The honor in equality. The giver of life in any situation. The teacher of integrity and morals. The fighter.
Lost today to us and to the world.
I finish the reading and put away the Ramayan and the Gita into the case that accompanies me throughout, glancing inquisitively, perhaps for the millionth time, at the words written on the first page of the Jan Gita; hand written by my Father dedicating the copy to me with his desire that I read it every day, even it were to be a few lines. I have not been obedient to him for some months now. But I shall catch up soon.
Jaya has disappeared to a corner and is delving deeply into a bag in the luggage section. I am a little disturbed by this disinterest on her part. She returns to join us with a bunch of papers in her hand.
They are old letters written by my Father to my Mother on her birthday !
Poems specially designed for the 12th of August. Some, 40-50 years back. Some, after their grandchildren and our children came in. I am touched by Jaya’s thought. We all sit around and read them. The paper fragile and brown with age. Jaya has been digging out all this valued material from Delhi, where my Mother had stored it all.
There are references to times gone by. We smile and laugh at some of the contents. Comments by my Father on an essay I have written and asked him to correct. Its titled ‘Review of my Day’ and its when I was in School in the 50’s. Goodness ! I am doing much the same thing with my blog these days am I not.
My Father has marked me too. Given me 22 out of 50 ! Not even half good ! There are little notes on the side. How the beginning should be, where the middle and the end. The stress on words, the content, the grammar, the spellings.
And the hand writing. Like little pearl drops in ink. Refined, perfectly formed and beautiful.
Jaya wants me to play the Hanuman Chalisa that I have put to music and sung, for Bhim to hear. Every one goes quiet again.
My Mother loved Hanuman ji and loved reciting the Chalisa every day. That, and the Granth Saheb. Hours of the Holiest of the Sikh scripture has been poured into my ears from her melodious voice, an attribute that was recently documented by a Pakistan journalist in her column in one of the main papers in Lahore, she having studied with my Mother in Government College there.
My Mother.
She was a strong and independent lady. Never accepted defeat even under the most trying circumstances. Her own Mother died soon after she was born. Brought up by English nannies around my grandfather’s affluent life style, she never experienced the care and love of a Mother. It is remarkable for her to have been the epitome of one, despite this great vacuum in her own life. She left the comfort of my grandfather’s riches to marry my Father, a lower middle class professor in the Allahabad University and a sensitive poet. He earned Rs 500/- per month. Because her Father was unhappy with her decision to marry, he gave her nothing when she left his home. She wanted nothing either. Packed a small bag of her immediate belongings and left along with Sudama her closest and trusted servant, who refused to not be with her. Sudama had a son, Manwar, a little older than me. We played together and spent time together. Traditionally or should I say under normal circumstances, Manwar should have taken Sudama’s place as he grew older, but my Father opposed this practice. He educated Manwar initially through his own expenses and then encouraged him to go further into higher studies. Manwar, worked hard and became a qualified engineer in the field of aeronautics and ended up with an important job with Indian Airlines. But despite his son’s elevated social status, Sudama remained that loyal and committed servant in the house. Such was his love and his loyalty towards my Mother. When age caught up with him, he left, tears streaming down, unable to do any physical work.
Manwar and he came many years later when we had moved to Mumbai and in Prateeksha, to visit us. Manwar was now a senior and important executive with the Airline, but at Prateeksha both Father and son refused to sit on the couch in the drawing room when my Father directed them towards one. They sat at my parents feet on the floor, refusing to acknowledge their enhanced social position.
Old customs and loyalties had a life of their own. The time of those times was so different. Reverent, respectful. Unlike today’s aggressive, materialistic and at times arrogant demeanor. There was aggression then too, but for different reasons. Aggression to fight for one’s right, one’s principle’s, one’s belief’s. Aggression to fight fear, to not succumb to injustice or inequality.
Beaten up my friends in the neighborhood when I was out playing with them one afternoon in Allahabad, I ran back home bawling into my Mother’s arms. She asked what had happened and on learning my sob story, pushed me out from her lap and asked -
“How many are they ?”
“Four”, I mumbled through my tears.
“And you got beaten up by just four boys ? Get back to them and don’t come back till you have beaten them up !”
It was not the command of her voice, but the strength of her conviction that made me confront my four adversaries again with renewed vigor. I came back home victorious that day, leaving behind a bunch of bewildered and bruised friends. It was the last time that they would ever take me on again. My Mother had made a champion out of me.
She made me many other things too.
She made me aesthetic. To be able to see and appreciate the finer qualities of life. From the clothes we could afford to wear, to the music we heard or the books we read. To respect not just my Father’s stature and his creativity, but the stature and standing of his contemporaries and his elders. The exposure to theatre and museums, to art and things cultural. To personalities of great talent and to forums of great discussion and debate. To the incessant hunger for things novel and new and progressive. To the acknowledgement of good deeds and the concern for charity. To the prevalence of truth and of just beings. To the power of tolerance and the bearing of pain. To the goodness in life and the exuberance of living it. And to films.
Javed Saheb, Javed Akhtar of Salim-Javed, writers of some of the most brilliant scripts in Hindi cinema, Javed Akhtar lyricist, father to Farhan Akhtar a director of eminence from the new generation, once in the late 70’s asked me, somewhat impudently, I thought -
“How are you able to give such a good performance ?”
“Because my aesthetics compel me to appreciate Mr Dilip Kumar, when he performs” I answered.
He looked at me for long with his patent mischievous smile, as is his wont, when he discovers that the person he was talking to has made a point beyond which there can be no further discussion.
I chose; the aesthetics ingrained in me chose, Mr Dilip Kumar as the ultimate performer. There has never been any doubt or debate on the exquisite quality of his work.
An artist will do good if his choice of ‘good’ is exquisite. Exquisite to the rest of the world. Exquisite to the connoisseur.
My Mother.
The lover of nature. Of nurturing flowers and the green grass of a lawn with her own hands. Of excelling in producing the best quality of red roses. Of winning every year, the first prize at the Annual Flower Show at the Alfred Park in Allahabad. Of the smell of the ‘mogra’ and the ‘bela’ in her hair. Of the stemmed ‘nargis’ in her dressing room. Of the baskets of ‘harshringar’ she meticulously collected in the early morning dew. Of the ‘raat ki rani’ she planted in each home we lived in, by the bedroom window. Of watering the flower beds in the murderous summer heat of Uttar Pradesh. Of the smell of the parched earth as it received the first spray of water from her hands.
My Mother.
Of the piping hot cup of tea first thing in the morning. Of the quilted tea pot covers in varied hues, to keep the tea hot. Of the strainer in metal, sitting over her favorite china set. Of espresso coffee in the evenings, when it first got discovered in our land. The excited visits to coffee bars with friends and with her elder son if he had finished his college home work in time – La Boheme, Gaylords, the Oberoi Intercontinental coffee shop, in Delhi. The love of sweets. ‘Boondi ke laddoo’, ‘baysan ke ladoo’ from her visits to the Hanuman Mandir. And chocolate ! What a great love for chocolate ! Suffering acutely in illness, the bars of chocolate I would bring for her from my foreign trips, were the only reason for the smile on her now gaunt face. She would guardedly place them under her pillow, for fear someone would pinch them. In the later years when she was losing her faculties we would often discover, early in the morning, an unfinished piece of the milk bar dribbling out from her mouth. An indicator that she had fallen off to sleep without finishing the portion she may have taken the night before. Teasingly, when we would ask her to give us some of her goodie, she would give us a long distasteful glare and after almost a lifetime, break a small piece and reluctantly hand it over. Immediately after, she would ask us to leave the room.
My Mother.
Who taught me ball room dancing. The waltz. The fox trot. And who would in order to test my learning skills take me to Gaylords in Connaught Place, New Delhi and drag an embarrassed me to the dance floor.
My Mother. First off onto the lawn in Prateeksha as the ‘dhol’ set up its rhythm on Holi, dancing in the spirit of the festival with gay abandon.
My Mother, who taught me how to drive a car in the driveway of our house, when I was still 4 years under age and who told me she would slap me blue if I ever attempted to venture out on the roads without a license.
My Mother who would dump a whole lot of us kids in the car and take us for a drive on 26th January, Republic Day, to see the wonderful lights of Rashtrapati Bhavan, having kept awake with us the previous night in front of a log fire peeling and giving us to eat ‘chillgozas’, ‘moamphali’ ‘kishmish’ ‘kaju’ and ‘akhroat’, because we all had to be up to leave early for the parade at India Gate.
My Mother who would pick up a ‘dholak’ and spoon without reason or event and sing Punjabi ‘tappaas’ combining it with the folk songs of UP being strung up by my Father.
My Mother, with so much laughter and spirit and joie de verve…
My Mother.
Now almost comatose. Weak and gaunt. Just an assembly of twisted bones. Hardly any skin. Lies there in front of me every morning and evening. There is no voice and no sound. Her eyes do not open. She does not respond to any sound. A monitor indicates that she breathes. Injectibles on either hand keep switching, leaving behind harsh dark stains. Nurses at regular intervals lift her and change her lying position. Heightened dementia and Alzheimer’s for years has made her silent and incommunicable. She is unaware that she has lost her husband, my Father. She is unaware that her grandson has got married. She has not been able to see and bless her grand daughter-in-law.
She has been in this state for years and in the Hospital for the past two.
Every morning before reaching the studio I enter the Hospital to be with her. She lies there motionless. Just a body with no connection with the outside world. I keep looking at her and gently whisper the first two lines of the Hanuman Chalisa –
‘Jai hanuman gyan gun sagar, jai kapeesh tihun lok ujagar’ !
This had been our greeting mantra first thing in the morning, the first words she wrote at the top of the letter she sent to me in her later years, the only words she completed in voice when she had lost most of her faculties.
I take a deep breath and leave after discussing with the doctors and nurses her condition and her treatment.
At work there is at times a happy song to enact, an emotional scene to perform, a camaraderie with colleagues and crew to be maintained, interviews with media to be addressed, their continuous text messages on mobile to be given immediate response, well being of family and dear ones to be monitored, television game shows to be kept at optimum. But all along the heart and mind, stuck with my Mother lying inert in that Hospital bed.
After the days’ work is over I return to her in the Hospital, sit by her side and just stare at her face. Then come away.
Every day for two years I do that. The most anxious moments being the night. Some how night brings with it its own fears and apprehensions. And I was right.
On the 21st of December 2007, early at around 3am the phone rang by my bed. It was the call I had been dreading to receive.
Her private nurse in tears – “Please come quickly Sir ! Ma is not looking good, we are shifting her to the ICU !”
It’s a dead moment.
You know what you should do yet you can’t do it. Its like those moments in a dream at times when you are in the midst of an adversity – falling off a cliff, being chased by monsters – you know it’s a dream, you know you can pull out of the situation, yet you find it difficult to do so.
I do not know whether to make calls to near ones or drive or put on clothes or contact the specialists, nothing. I just feel her entire life going past my brain. In the car another call. It’s the Hospital. I am numb. Hurry sir, her heart stopped, they have revived her, but its…
I run into the ICU with Jaya. Equipment, doctors, several of them, nurses rushing about hurriedly with concerned expressions, urgent instructions being passed around..
And there in the middle of all this surround, almost invisible and drowned in pipes and tubes and multiple hands working on her. My Mother. Lifeless. Almost.
Her heart stopped, we tried, she fought back. At 90, she is a tough lady. Ya. I know. She is my Mother.
Abhishek, Shweta, Aishwarya out of town, now catching urgent flights in.
They arrive. I fill them in. A quiet strength creeping in seeing family together. My brother, nieces, cousins now at the bedside. She is normalizing. No she is going again. The commotion of the team of doctors starts again. Her frail delicate body being pummeled to get her heart working again. She fights again. The graph on the monitor moves again. Doctors pumping her chest tire and take turns. We stand behind and hold hands and embrace each other – Jaya, Abhishek, Aishwarya, Shweta, Namrata, Bunty – giving strength to ourselves. Shweta pulls out her little booklet of the Hanuman Chalisa. Starts chanting. Tears swelling up in her eyes. Namrata cries.
I just stare. Stare at my Mother.
She fights again. Heart comes back.
Phone calls coming in frantically. Amar Singhji from Delhi. Upset and annoyed that his flight has got stuck in the morning fog. I should be there with you. Now. What is the point of you calling me your brother if I cannot be with you.
The graph on the monitor showing some regularity. Doctors ask us to wait in a room outside. We all huddle and sit there. Quiet. More people coming in now. Cousins, Aishwarya’s family, other close friends.
I saunter out of the room and walk towards my Mother’s section.
Frantic activity again. We will not be able to keep on like this sir. Be prepared. I am sorry. We can only do this much.
I run back to the room where the others are. She’s going, I pant out.
We are back with her. Doctors laboring. Giving everything they can. Intermittently looking up towards me with defeated expression.
She still fights. Her body bouncing on the bed with the chest- pummeling.
Ok. Stop. Let her be. Let her go now. I am disturbed to see her body being treated like this. She has suffered enough.
The doctors step back. I move forward and stand by her. My hand goes to her forehead. It is cold. Cover her with the blanket I say and remain motionless looking at her.
The monitor beeps inconsistently. And then.. the singular drone..
Straight line. A nurse utters softly.
She has gone.
The most beautiful woman in the world. My Mother. Has left us.
We bring her home to Prateeksha. Jaya and the ladies had left the Hospital earlier to prepare for the rituals. My cousins from my Mother’s elder sister who have come over from Punjab sit by her side as she lies on the floor and recite the Granth Saheb all night. I remain with them, awake and pensive. Next morning we take her to the cremation ground close by. The same spot where we took my Father. She had wanted it this way. We collected the ashes and immersed them at the relevant spots – Sangam, Allahabad where she used to take us for boat rides and early mornings dips in the sacred river, Haridwar, where we had spent many days with her at an ashram in prayer, Varanasi, Chitrakoot, her favorite place of worship. And when all the immersions were over entered Amritsar, the Golden Temple.
As we walked into the sanctum sanctorum, the strains of the Granthi’s singing from the Granth Saheb touched a chord within me.
And for the first time since her passing, I break down.
She had brought me here to Harmandir Saheb when I was in College, reminding and igniting in me my Sikh genes. And everything just came back. The dip in the Holy waters of the Lake surrounding the sanctum. The ‘kada prasad’. The food at the ‘langgar’. Everything. As though it had happened just yesterday.
My Mother.
Her wedding photograph that you see in the blog, now framed and put alongside my Father’s framed photograph in his room in Prateeksha.
All her belongings in her room just as she left them. She hardly had any. Her generosity had prompted her to give away all that she possessed. To people not necessarily of the family. To her nurses, to the driver that took her for her daily drives, to the ‘mithai wala’ she visited for her evening coffee and snacks, to her servants who served her devotedly. To her acquaintances she took an immediate liking to and to hundreds of the poor that she encountered wherever she went. I know who they are. For they come even now to the house. Not to ask, but to give. Give their gratitude to her kindness and compassion.
I visit my Mother’s room every day. I say a prayer at her little temple corner – the Gods all decorated in their finery on one end and the photographs of the Sikh Guru’s on the other.
Every morning before setting out to work I visit her framed photograph, the one you see above, and that of my father. I touch her beautiful face and smile at her. I do not ask for anything.
Simply wish that I could spend my life just one hundredth of the way she spent hers !
My Mother.
Srimati Teji Bachchan.
1917 - 2007
Dear Amitji,
“HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY” to all you there on “THE UNFORGETTABLE TOUR”
I had written a post abt 3 hrs ago which i do not know if that has been printed on this blog or no. As i was trying to find it i wasnt able to see it.
I hope that post has reached you. Wish you Good Luck for the rest of the shows. You are AMAZING.
Seema
(Report abuse)
Respected Sir,
You have sobbed me in tears at my office and my angrez collegue has asked me what happened to me? Sir, my mother (she is still alive and healthy by the Grace of Allah Almighty) and me both were born in Faisalabad and I have a very special place for the city in my heart where I spend few years of my childhood. I cant write much than that.
Have a nice day.
(Report abuse)
I would rate this is your best blog posting and will remain the best.
Lots of Love
(Report abuse)
Hi Sir,
Dont have words to express myself…….simply awesome. i guess she is looking at u from there…..and is very proud of u.
(Report abuse)
Happy Independence Day!!!! It was quite fun to read your blog couple of days.
Have a wonderful day.
Vipal
(Report abuse)
Dear Mr Bachchan
The most touching blog out of all. My heart is heavy after reading.
May god bless her soul. I am sure very where ever she is she must be very very proud of you.
Take care.
Manda xx
(Report abuse)
Dear Amit Ji,
There are just 26 alphabets in English however you made it like 26 million by down pouring your infinite emotions. Can’t say anything more after reading the above lines. I can imagine Shrimati Teji ji watching from the heavens and feeling contented that her son following the aesthetics ingrained in him by her.
God Bless
Regards
Sudesh
(Report abuse)
Dear Mr Bachchan,
Whatever little I understood I am speechless.
Big Hug
From Ekta xx
(Report abuse)
Oh my god! This is one of the most heart wrenching blog of yours. I am feeling numb after reading today’s post. Thanks for sharing all these wonderful thoughts about your mother as well as giving a sneak peak into your childhood days. The best thing you have done after acting is starting this blog.Thanks you so much! I am sure your mother must be smiling from the sky today. A very hapy birthday to her.
Love you Amitabh Uncle!
Aditi Banerjee
(Report abuse)
Brought tears to my eyes .. Wish i was with my mother .
(Report abuse)
Sir,
Thisis my first comment on your blog. I jsut wanted to say that this was the most beautiful post I have read so far.
I always thought that when a person grows older, has children then grand children.. somewhere along the way with time and more responsibilities and the hassles of life you become slightly more independant from your parents (emotionally). I still have to expereince it though..
But this post really shook me. Thank you so much. Even a person of your age and grandeur is so frail when it come to parents.
Wish you all the best. I truly love your approach to life and never say die spirit!
(Report abuse)
Sir, this blog is the finest ever. Such regard such beautiful thoughts in ur mind for your mother..i dont have words to express. We are all with u in this moment to remember your mother. God Bless!!
(Report abuse)
Dear Sir i have been a big fan of yours from the time i started watching movies and have respected your work always. there have been movies that i didn’t like in which you acted but there is never been a time that i’ve not liked you in a movie. anyways sir i actually wanted to ask you for a very big favour. i’m having a lot of money problems. i owe out atleast 2 and a half lakhs and i need your help. i know i maybe the first or the 100000th person to ask you for help but some how i feel that you’ll understand wht i’m going through this now. Sir i live in a rented house with my mom, i’m 21 and i’m working in a call center. i get quite a reasonable pay but the problem is that i have to give out so much every month that i have a though time alqways . please help me if you can sir. i know u may not even read this or may not reply to it but do me a favour in case u say no please email me and don’t post the reply for everyone to see. and don’t worry sir i’ll still respect u the same way if u say no even. one more thing sir keep rocking the world.
(Report abuse)
May God rest your mother’s soul in peace
(Report abuse)
My Dearest Mr Bachchan…
Have not read the post yet! But I just wanted to say thank you first for this post. How lovely to be confronted first with your mother’s beautiful serene face as soon as I opened the blog!
Thank you so much!!!
Much Love…
Rose C X
(Report abuse)
you brought tears to my eyes. You reminded me about my moms sufferings before her death. The pain she went through to see me before she breathed her last. But before I could reach just to be by her side, just to tell her how much I loved her, how much proud I am that she is my mom. but somehow god for the first time was cruel. He could keep my mom alive till I could see her for the last time. It still haunts me. I miss you Mom
Thanks Sir for such an emotional write up. All your fame ,all your glory is due to the fact that you respect your parents. Acche logon ke saath aacha hi hota hain
(Report abuse)
Sir,
I visited bigadda umpteen number of times since morning, was wondering why there is so much delay today… but here it is.
Me totally in tears while reading this, I can’t write anything more. Thank you!!
(Report abuse)
HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY.
Your mother must have been a very remarkable lady. Mothers are like that. They make us strong and teach us how to live. may she rest in peace now and for ever
(Report abuse)
Thank you for the picture. She was very beautiful. But more importantly, from what you tell us, looks like she was more beautiful on the inside than on the outside. To have raised kids who are love and fear God, love their parents and family and are as nice as possible to the world, is no small task.
(Report abuse)
Dear Amitabh ji,
I’ve read all the volumes of your great father Dr. Bachchan’s autobiography several times and found your mother’s life very inspiring. It tells us to live life to its fullest without complaining about anything. She was definitely a woman of substance and lived her life queen size. We all should learn something or the other from her life. She never lost hope even when everything looked against her (especially when your father was about to return home from Cambridge and there was no food in your house). She fought every battle of life with full force and enthusiasm and won each one of them and came out with flying colors.
May her soul rest in peace.
-Abhishek Chandra, New Delhi.
(Report abuse)
Dear Sir,
I can not help sobbing in my office here in California. I am speechless!!!!
The only thing i want to say is that, i wish there were more people like you around, to make lives more positive, more vibrant.
I’m sure it is your parents who made what you are…the most amazing, sensitive, caring, and wonderfull person… Mr Amitabh Bachchan.
Love u and Happy Independence day!
may your mum be in peace whereever she is…
Komal
(Report abuse)
My dear Mr. B.,
You are living your life as your mother lived hers … she has left you her spirit, which will never leave you.
You are a good son. A very good son.
Aloha from Hawaii …
Love, Dorothy
(Report abuse)
Such beautiful photo of your mother. I had tears in my eyes when I was reading your blog. It reminds me of my grandparents who are not in this world now! Thank you for sharing.
(Report abuse)
…i cannot stop the tears from flowing….this is so emotional….
(Report abuse)
That was a beautiful post, Mr. Bachchan. A fitting tribute to your mother- someone who undoubtedly played a tremendous role in your life, someone you revered, respected and loved.
Incidently, I share my birthday with your mom. I have a son, a 4 year old and I hope I can instill in him similar values just like your mom did and hope someday he will remember me just as fondly as you are.
(Report abuse)
May her soul rest in peace.
It’s very thoughtful of you to let us see through you what a great lady she was.
Thankyou.
(Report abuse)
The fact that you are sharing this with us makes me feel special. Just like we consider you our own, you share the same sentiment for us thus you share your feelings with is. It truly is touching. Your mother must be very proud of you not because of your achievements but because of the person you are. At this age, despite being the best in your craft, you are still so humble (occasionally to the point where one’s like “ok stop, you’re good just accept it” but that’s ok), you have so much love for your family, and you have so much love for your fans. The great person you turned out to be is a reflection of how wonderful your mother and father have been and how they have raised you.
(Report abuse)
Oh my god…this is just soooooo beautiful.I still cant stop crying readying such lovely thoughts.
I am pathetic in reading but this was just out of this world ……..Vacaulary fail short to describe what i feel…….
PS- please write something/more about jaya aunty as well.
Love n Regards
(Report abuse)
Hello Amitji,
By far one of the most touching tributes a child can give his mother, what an eloquent way to express what your mother meant to you. You have imbibed the beautiful writing skills from your father.
I just want to call my parents after reading this to just say thank you for their unconditional love towards us.
Cheers
Vsomaiah
(Report abuse)
Dear Amitji,
Amazing blog entry. You have brought tears to my eyes, beautifully written. May your mothers soul rest in peace. She has given us one of the finest human beings and a world class actor in you.
Hats off to you and your wonderful upbringing!
Good Health Always
Monish Aggarwal
(Report abuse)
Losing a parent is the worst thing that can happen to any person.
(Report abuse)
Well Respected and Very Well Respectfull Mr. Bachchan,
Sir, you truly are an inspiration for all the struggling actors (like myself) and you are a true example of humble and caring individual. May god bless you…and may Teji Bachchanji rest in peace…Even God needs a good company…and finally after years of waiting, he finally found one….
Take care of yourself…
(Report abuse)
God Bless you, Mr. Bachchan.
(Report abuse)
Dear Mr. Bachchan
Blessed is her soul, and I once again wish you peace and quiet to reflect on her. Thank you for a beautiful post, and wish you all the best for tomorrow.
Lakshmi Jag
(Report abuse)
I am tears after reading this!! Very very very touching. I respect the fact that inspite of being such a big star you still hold those small memories sooo close to your heart and nourish them. Oh after seeing the this photo on blog I can say your daughter Shweta looks like her… very beautiful.
Once again .. eagerly waiting to see you in Nassau tomorrow .. I really have a big big expectation from this and hoping that is weather is good too.
(Report abuse)
Respected Amitji,
I have tears in my eyes. Your writeup on your mother was better than any “Shradhanjali” in the world. I had to come to US and leave my parents back in India against my wishes even in the wildest of my dreams. Every couple of days, I get sad and think about them. I call them amidst an unknown fear with my increased heart beat which gets calm when I hear from them of their being fine. I have made up my mind to return to India in 2010 and am just counting days to be back with my parents and take care of them in their old age.
Beleive me, my respect towards you have increased manyfold on reading your this blog on your mother. You have made your parents proud and are an example to today’s arrogant generation who has to know what the word “Respect” mean. We people of my generation waited for a command or an order from our parents and did it like “Bhagwan ki Lakeer” with no questions asked. But todays generation wants reasoning, logic, use. Our parents sometimes scolded us even without any fault on our part and we never argued with them and never even looked into their eyes at such occasions, but today’s generation’s “its not my fault” make them so different.
Anyway, I wish her soul rest in peace and I would end here wishing you and your family a happy Indepandence Day.
Yours,
Bharat Doshi
(Report abuse)
Sir, I guess this is the first time I have tears in my eyes while reading anything ever and that’s what made me to reply you back. I have been reading your blogs since day 1 but never wrote back. But as I love my parents so much, I cannot help but write so that I can thank you for sharing something so personal which was so pure and serene, with us.
But it does bring a sad and a feeling of fear in my heart that how much hard I may try I have to lose my beloved ones at some point in our life. I am not sure how will I co-op with that when by the mere thought of that makes me so sad and numb.
(Report abuse)
My dear Big B,
You have made me speechless. I am a big fan of yours since my childhood in Mysore, Karnataka. Used to collect postcards with your pictures, watching your movies. Finally I could see you in the Houston concert (which I enjoyed every second of it). You are AWESOME, as always. I hope one day I will be able to meet and talk to you in person.
Happy Birthday to your mother. May peace be with you all. Happy Independence Day and wish you all success in the rest of your “The Unforgettable Tour”. Hope I will get the tour’s DVD sometime.
With Best Wishes to you and your family,
Sandhya
(Report abuse)
Dude
Amazing Writing again .I dont how you do it . Getting the reader to feel the emotion is awesome . Amazing writing I am speechless . I have read blogs ” this is practically the best ever dude ”
Siddarth
(Report abuse)
Dear Amit Uncle,
You have left me speechless. Wherever your great mother is, I know she is smiling at you, just as you smile at her. You are amazing!
(Report abuse)
Dear Sir,
This is indeed one of the most poignant and emotive blog. Thanks for the same.
Regards,
Bharath
(Report abuse)
What can I say? Today you have rendered me speechless. Thank you for sharing something so private and intimate with us - You didn’t have to. However, by doing so, you have accorded people like us a different status in your life. Peace & Happiness.
(Report abuse)
Again. and again…… I read this 10th time………. I am going to print this and keep it with me………
(Report abuse)
You look so much like your mother:-)
(Report abuse)
I am reading this post here in my office in California with the sound of Bismillah Khan and the shehnai in my ears … your words flow so beautifully that I feel that I was there with you sharing these moments in your lifetime … and when she is weak and the end is near I am crying at the loss of such a wonderful woman. I reach for Kleenex and dry my eyes and compose myself.
Family is everything and the love and bond you feel for your family, both living and gone, is evident in all of your words and actions.
My deepest sympathies are with you today as you rejoice in the memory and life of your mother but also fall silent with the fact that she is no more with you. The words and memories that you have shared with us today are very precious to you and thank you for letting us in to your heart.
Michele Ramachandran
(Report abuse)
May God rest your mother’s soul in peace
(Report abuse)
Dear Sir..
Today I am short of words after reading your post…I felt as if i was living those moments with U ..I am too moved and shaken to express how i exactly feel …I always knew how important my mother is to me but after becoming a mother myself I realized all the more what a mother means to a child…No matter how old we get how far we are from our mother we always feel the need to feel the warmth of her love…Though everyone says it will be fine..but still want to hear her say…Sab theek ho jayega…You are strong..I can assure U one thing that no matter how far we are from our mother..She is always watching us…Her love always protecting us..Her strength making us stronger..Sir she is always with you..Thats the reason you have been facing the world with so much strength and courage… We can feel what you are going through..We are always with U
with all our love and regards
Sandhi
(Report abuse)
Dear Sir,
A beautiful memoir. I just noticed some wetness in my eyes. For the first time ever, i wanted to see you in person and talk to you. Maybe because i know that you are here in New York. But a very good recollection. I am sure your dad would have given you 50/50 for this write up.
Thank you for today’s blog.
(Report abuse)
Thanks a lot sir,
Thanks a million time …………
This is so touching ……….. so emotional………… so beautiful ……..
I read this for 3 times……… and my eyes are wet…. it made me silent for a moment (which is very difficult)…..
You actually made me cry (very bad)….. i thought you never read our comments……….. but you did……….. n you write all beautiful things about “MAJI”……
I have never seen your mother’s picture …….But Yes……….. I do agree that she is the most beautiful women in this wotld …. (in the same way - every mother is beautiful for her son or daughter)
Thanks once again Amitji
:) 
:) 
:) !!!!
I am very glad that you have not spoiled this day just because of someone and you write about MAJI.
Mothers are mothers……… wherever they are…………. they will always think about their kids……….
Amitji……… Your MA is very proud of you……… so we are!!!
Have a great day ahead!!! (hope to see some more pictures of MA with you n family)
Yours small fan…
Deepti
(Report abuse)
Hi Amitji,
With tears in my voice, after reading this blog, I remembered my mother to whom I use to love a lot, more than anything else in this world and even more than God. First I use to pray my mother, see her and then look at God and think of my family and so on…. I can totally understand and correlate the things that you might have gone through or going through it. Its been 2 years exactly at my mother who was 56 yrs old has passed away with Coln Cancer. I still wonder where is she and how is she?
When I read about ur mother and the love and affection towards family, kids and zeal to live and so is my mother. Only thing is that I coudnt express to anyone in this word but because of you I am expressing my emotions that I went through with my mother. Our life has formed with totally new equation but have to go through it. God bless your mother soul rest in peace and not only your mother Amitji but also I pray to all mothers’ who are not alive will rest in peace because they are the best and the best in the world. We can buy anything in this worldly things but not parents- Especially Mother who only knows to give up things for the kids and familly !!! I love you all the mothers’ who out there and you the best mom and God for the kids.
Thankyou Amitji for sharing your mom and tears in my voice I could write some of my feelings and thoughts of my mom too… Sorry if I said anything wrong to you . I am trying to write to the person that I love the most because you are the role model for me and also I am estatic that I am sharing my sorrows or views with you. Take care Amitji and my silent prayers to our great Moms’. bye for now and please take care of ur health. My respects to Jayaauntyji, Ash and Abiji and also to your other family members. bye for now. Luv u always– Srinivas Kappagantula, USA
(Report abuse)
It is now easy to understand your great love for your mother. She has formed so much of you — from strength to softness, from conviction to pliability, from outer to inner beauty. Above all, she gifted you the “aesthetic†that has guided your life.
And loss is magnified by the tragedy of death-before-death, for which letting go is the kindest act. Mere existence is no life; it simply soothes those who remain. Better the release that frees the soul.
I shall dedicate evening puja to her memory; the agarbatti burns already; the mogra, in bloom today, will be among the offerings; the bhajans shall include the Hanuman Chalisa.
Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam uasal — May her noble soul be on the right hand of God.
(Report abuse)
What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful mother! Thank you for taking us along on the journey of her life, from the abundantly exuberan years of it to the somber moments of her sad demise, all with such vivid heights through the magic of your prose. There will not remain many a dry eye upon reading your words today.
(Report abuse)
Respected Sir,
Reading about the amazing person your mother was has brought me to tears, not because she’s no more, but because she still lives on in your heart and you make her live there like a queen, like the way she deserves to be.
I don’t know much about your mom apart from the little i have read today from your blog, but i know that she was certainly a great mother and a human being to have inspired such respect and love from her children. I am a mom of a three yr old and am going to have my second child soon, I cry today when i read your blog and secretly aspire to be a mom to my children like yours was to you.
As a mother, i know for sure that your mother is in a very special place and smiles at you and blesses you for the son you have been and continue to be.
Happy Birthday to your mom……
(Report abuse)
Amitji,
Forgot to mention……. you exactly look like MA!!!!!!!!!!!!
:) 
:) 
:) 
And shweta also looks like her too!!!
Take care………
(Report abuse)
That was beautifully written… I am in tears…
missing my mum already here from London… will call her up now …at this wee hours …should I? she wont mind it.. she is a mother
(Report abuse)
Peace my heart…
Peace, my heart, let the time for the parting be sweet.
Let it not be a death but completeness.
Let love melt into memory and pain into songs.
Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest.
Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence.
I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.
~Rabindranath Tagore
(Report abuse)
Very touching and emotion felt blog SHRIVATSAV JI about you mother and memories of her in you life.
(Report abuse)
Dear AB,
The best blog post ever !!!
God Bless you !! And Mrs Teji Bachchan.
(Report abuse)
You are a good son and a very lucky son because you were with your parents till the last moment. Who does not want that, but then life happens and though we all want to be there to take care of our parents, it does not happen. My parents, with their very limited means gave us a very basic education which was enough for us to be financially independent. Against all odds, I still studied and realized later that study only is not going to do me any good. After 7 years of struggle, I somehow landed here in USA. Did my education, worked at sandwitch places and went through my share of struggle to get a job, to earn, to save so that I can help my dad. I want to be with him back home take care of him but then I won’t be earning as much, saving as much unfortunately I am not in bollywood :-). I still don’t earn a lot but I have to be here to send money home. I have to be here to give my daughter a better life. Money makes such a difference. I know at some point we will need money for my dad’s medical care and I have to be ready when the time comes.
I guess many of us can’t express emotions like you do because it does not matter. Nobody would read that because we are all common people, doing our karma. After long work day, I go home and play with my toddler, be with her because I don’t know if she will be there with me till I leave this world. My mom could not spend her last few years with her daughter because her daughter was in some other place trying to make a life and could not come home, be with her because of financial and visa situation. I rather spend all the time with my daughter because I don’t know where she would be when I will be taking my last breath. I can only hope and pray that unlike me, she can be with her mom and dad when they grow old - like you!!!! I am doing my part, trying provide my daughter the best I can afford - trying to provide my dad some comfort that he never can afford - it is not enough.. still it is not enough.
(Report abuse)
What to say??…. beautiful would suffice…
(Report abuse)
Mr. Bachchan,
Bravo! I completely applaud the way you have honored your mother on her birthday and passing out of this life. I have longed to read and know more about your exceptional mother. Your words of love, affection, respect, and reverence, and longing in regards to your mother was very touching and poetic. Mrs. Teji Bachchan sounded like such a great woman. I’m glad you have honored your mother through the writings on your blog. I know it was painful, but your mother where ever she is has to be very proud of how you have honored her and her major importance in you and your families life.
Best wishes!!
Bachchans,net
http://bachchans.net/forums/
(Report abuse)
Respected sir,
I really admired todays blog. This was something put me in tears like ur perfomance in Movie Waqt. I have been away from my parents for close to 10 years so it kind of brought whole lot of memories from my childhood.
Thank you Arnav
(Report abuse)
Thank you for sharing with us. I felt as if I was with you experiencing all the memories you have shared with us. God bless your parents souls and may they rest in peace.
(Report abuse)
HI!!! BOSS
JUST WANT TO SAY ……………..SPEECHLESS….
PRANAM
beautythatisindia.blogspot.com
(Report abuse)
I Dont have words.
(Report abuse)
I googled and found this beautiful picture of your n MA; however not sure how to add/paste this for you……..?????????
http://www.zeenews.com/pics/NAT/Teji-with-family-280.gif
(Report abuse)
Dear Amitabh ji,
Today, I am obliged and feel a part of your extended family after reading your blog.
Thanks for sharing your most invaluable thoughts with us.
Take care and best wishes.
Hemal
(Report abuse)
Dear AB,
This beautiful piece (Poem) of writing shall bring all to tears, tranquality, endearing strength and desire to hold their parent’s hand.
Word is not the thing and so let me remain with the actual effect of this beautiful writing.
(Report abuse)
Dear Amitji,
Dear Amitji,
I wish her soul rest in peace! I cannot help myself, but just sit & cry in my office. Right now, all I’m thinking is to “GO BACK TO INDIA & BE MY MOM &DAD AS EARLY AS POSSIBLE”. Hope fully we would be able to fulfill our dream early next year.
I cannot write anything else at this moment…
With lots of luv and best regards,
Roopa
(Report abuse)
Is it my computer or the picture cannot be seen?
(Report abuse)
Dear Amitji,
what a beautiful / lovely /lively person your mom was. She has given a very great lesson of how to live one’s life- not just to you and your family- but by describing her life to us, to all of us. May your mom soul rest in peace- God bless her. It is very difficult to loose either of one’s parents- as they are the ones who taught us “life’. It feels as if you lost your own body part. You have certainly made your parents proud by following what they taught you in life- and ofcourse we are proud of you- not just becos’ your start status but your nobility/ humble nature and respect for others.
love
Ashesh
(Report abuse)
Mr.Bachchan,
The memories shared by you are very much appreciated. Thank you so much. Your mother was indeed a rock. Your dad and mom have given you a fantastic foundation and upbringing. These foundations seems to have branched out to your own children as well. I was touched and all welled up on reading these very personal and heart warming memories. You may not be able to see her, feel her and spend time with her, but I know that both your parents are watching over you and showering you their blessings. They are very proud of you and will be there as angels taking care of you.
Sujata.
(Report abuse)
Hello Sir,
A very touching to heart blog i know how it is to loose your parent because i lost my papa 4 years ago and there is not a day when i dont miss him.
I thank you to for sharing such an emotional moment of your life with us, u dint need to but you really consider us something in your life so you have shared this with us.
I am sure it would be very difficult for you to do so but you still did it really appreciate that.
How really thoughtful of jayaji to carry those letters with her for the tour as she would know that you would not be a thome on her birthday, i am sure she would also share a very strong relationship with her mom in law
You mom will be really happy to see you wherever she is today and your family and so what if she could not bless ash , but she definately is blessing her from far and knows abhishek is happy so dont worry our family members never leave us they are always besides us.
your mom really looks beautiful and elegant and may her soul rest in peace.
Happy Independence day and rock Neyyok tomorrow.
Love you all
renuka
(Report abuse)
Speechless and spell bound with what ease you pain you have shared feelings about your mother with the whole world. It makes us feel good to know about you and your mother , but at the same time it also makes us feel sad that she is physically no more in this world. I think after writing this whole blog you would have lived those moments which you had spent with your father and mother, and I can understand how peaceful you feel when you remember those days spent with them. Sometimes you wish that time should rewind and take us back to those days where we could correct some things, may be that would have made this day a little different. I think you are so lucky that you are able to write about your mother in such a beautiful way. When I was reading your thoughts I could visualise what you wanted to say, what a way to express your thoughts about your mother. I think you made me realise that mother is the one who loves her children more than anybody in this world.
May god bless you and your family.
I wany to write and go on and on but I have to leave as my office timings are over and i do not have access to net at home. But this barrier will nto stop me writing to you. I have found a way to express my thoughts to you, I know you may not read my thoughts but I am proud that I have shared it with you. Closing it with a thought that may be one day in your life, you will ever come across my thoughts and that moment will be the happiest as you will know me that day. I know I will never be able to meet you in person. But thanks to god and thanks to the people who made this facility where atleast I can pen down my thoughts to