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This is specifically for all moms out there who will, in their mind’s kitty, find similar experiences. Over 20 years of motherhood has left behind crystal clear memories in my kaleidoscope. Lasting impressions have been indelibly etched when the kids and I shared hours bonding over board games, attending birthday parties, going shopping or simply while I watched them play with their peers in our compound garden.

As the kids grew, my interaction with other mothers changed. From just discussing pick-ups and drops, talks veered to more serious matters like studies, sports and kids’ futures. And we formed a safety net that protected our children from many a stress factor. To date, even as my daughter continues to bond with her schoolmates, Preeta, Shikha, Nikita, Gautami and more, I value my friendships with their mothers. One of them (she would hate to be named here) jokes that if she’d charged me for the number of times she has given me sound advice, her bank account would have been bursting at the seams.

Likewise, my son has his group of yet-in-school school buddies — Abhi, Aneesh, Darshil, Jagad, Yash — and I have a set of different moms to keep me company in the fabric of the boys’ activities. We have compared notes, tracked important dates and kept abreast of what was going on and charted the calendar of midnight matches and lessons learnt at school with equal fervour.
In our urban, nuclear lives, it is this friendly networking that keeps one afloat. The time Gaurav walked home from school unaided, the time I was late at work, the time I was alone bringing up two young kids, my daily conversations with my close mother-pals served as more than a lifeline.

Today, both my young adults are individuals in their own right. As one lives out of home, I am almost a spectator, albeit an informed one, to the blueprint of a large part of her life. As yet, the younger one has to fly off the nest…. And, like all parents do, I am slowly realising that it is time to let go and let him grow.

As we moms bonded, we did not gauge how the children — especially the boys — were completely clued into our discussions, a point that was brought home with humourous emphasis just a few days ago. Gaurav had, with other schoolmates, gone across to spend time at one of his friends’ homes. According to plan, I was to pick him up after work and bring him, along with two of his friends who live close by. In the evening he called and asked, “Mom, may we please stay the night?” My heart melted like butter in summer, and permission granted, I came home to a solitary dinner. I soon called up the boy’s mother for a thank you and hope all-is-ok chat. She laughingly told me that as Gaurav was going down to play, he asked her casually, “Why did Mom and you have to become such close friends?”

His remark made me reflect. Do growing children look upon parental sharing, that reflects our concern, as a betrayal of their privacy? The extent of sharing is perhaps one of the fine lines that we continue to tread as parents.

I would like to thank both my kids for colouring my world with new sets of friends. So, even if they move on to a new group of peers, we mothers stick together bonded by more than our kids. One such friend is Prabha, who I have known since the time our boys were in the second standard, and with whom I have phoned my way through many a hiccup.

And like all you parents will know, such ‘mother pals’ have no expectations, no demands. We are just there.

— The writer, a senior editor with Verve, is, in her personal space, often driven to distraction by her two growing ‘young adults’, but she loves the madness of it all