Birthday Missives to A Boy

By Sarada Harish

who sat in my class with curious eyes and later became a part of my life, and stayed there…….

17th September 2013

My dear boy,

Age is a number. But more than that. Age is a spectacular phenomenon. Each year, we cross a new threshold embarking on fresh beginnings. Hearty wishes for your 17th year. 

I find myself at a juncture of my life, where everything feels typical, even mundane. They say we should never mourn our past dwelling on “what ifs”. Yet the funny thing is, anyone my age will inevitably have their own set of “what ifs” when they look back. Those without “what ifs” are often deemed lucky, contented, successful and happy. But I find joy in my “what ifs”, as they spark my curiosity and ignite my imagination. 

What if I had been a talkative and troublesome kid? What if I had been a popular student? What if I had always spoken up in a crowd? What if I had been a smart girl? What if I could sing like Lata Mangeshkar? What if I had accepted the secretaryship of the school literary club, for which I was the language teacher’s first choice? What if I had seized all the opportunities that school and college life offered? What if I had been a fiercely independent and strong girl? What if I hadn't wasted time on romance? What if I had been more ambitious? What if I had worked on improving myself as a person? What if I had inherited the positive traits of my parents? What if I had reached the academic heights my father expected of me? What if I had pursued my writing skills and become a writer instead of a teacher? What if I had never cared about what others think of me? What if I had channelled my introverted nature into something creative? What if you had never come to my life? Well, at this point I usually stop, because I can’t imagine beyond that, and, I never want to. I never would want a “what if” on that. I have you, and that’s what makes my life what it is!                                              

Lots of love, 

Ammus

17th September 2014

My dear boy,

Teenage years are soon to bid you farewell. School life is nearing its an end. Happy 18th birthday, dearest. I am happy and at the same time a little apprehensive as you stand on the brink of new beginnings. You are preparing to step beyond your comfort zone into a new city, new institution, new friends, unfamiliar circumstances, new goals and perhaps even a new version of ‘you’. 

Does it really matter where we are heading? Is there a so-called "glorious purpose", in our lives? I watched that web series you mentioned and it made me wonder: Is there just a void beyond all of this? And if so, why do we keep running? Just to reach that void and disappear? 

It took me until my fifties to learn the two most important truths of life. First, we’re constantly changing- our demeanour, our thoughts, our reactions, our responses, even our intelligence, and emotional and social quotients. And, with all this change, our purpose in life inevitably changes as well.

Second, it’s not all about “me”. Recently someone, who read a few of my writings, commented that I focus too much on myself and fail to look beyond. It was perhaps the first and honest feedback I’d received. It set me on a path of self-reflection. Am I selfish?  Self-centred? Or maybe just limited by my own vision or lack of experiences? Maybe both. The truth hit me hard: the world does not revolve around me. It is time to step out of the self-constructed bubble that I have been living in and start noticing perspectives around me that I had never seen before. 

How much we suffer worrying about things that are never meant to last! How often we regret actions we wish we’d avoided, choices we didn’t make, or the circumstances we think we caused! I always saw myself as inadequate, guilty of not being who I thought I should be. I wasted my youth fretting over a version of myself that I neither was nor could ever become, never realising that ‘what truly matters is how you see yourself through your own eyes, not others’.  I failed to look beyond my own limited perspective. When you can finally see beyond the void, or break through it, you cross the biggest barrier that ever was. The barrier holds everything: false personas we create, the guilt that gnaws at us for things which we never controlled, the regret of lives we never lived, the inhibitions that weigh us down, and the imperfections we endlessly try to correct; the list, as you know, feels endless. Breaking free of all these barriers isn’t something that happens overnight. Yet, simply beginning the journey in that direction, is an achievement in itself. I trust that, in time you will start to look beyond the void, coming to understand and appreciate these simple, often hidden truths in life. 

All the best my dear. 

Lots of love,

 Ammus

17th September 2015

Many, many happy returns of the day, sweetheart.  

I know you are wrestling with feelings of inadequacy, striving to overcome flaws and reach perfection. But, what, really, is a “perfect” life? One that is flawless, impeccable, prosperous, and ideal? That’s a utopian dream. The moment you begin focusing only on results, you lose the joy in what you’re doing.  I’ve come to realize the same about teaching. I no longer enjoy it, the way I once did; it has become a job, a burden. And I think I know why: the results frighten me. I measure my teaching by students' scores, letting their marks define my success. But winning and being happy-- those are two very different things. You don’t need to win, achieve, or be in the spotlight to be happy. Happiness isn’t measured by success, popularity, leadership, or being the best. You play a game because you love it, not because you’ll win, you might not perform your best, play well, or even make your team proud, but if you enjoyed yourself, if the day felt good, then you were happy. Cherish those small moments of joy, and seek happiness even in adversity.

Lots of love,

Ammus

17th September 2016

My dear boy,

I can hardly believe you are twenty already. 

Gathering thoughts can be tricky, especially when each one demands analysis and critique in such a way that it might haunt us indefinitely. It is difficult to rank them. Deciding which ones deserve attention now, and which can wait, is even harder.  What criteria do we use? Which thoughts deserve to keep us alert? Which ones can we tuck away for reflection later? 

How we wish certain fleeting moments could just stand still, a place where we don’t need to look to the past or to the future! But in the end, what remains are the fragmented bits and pieces of our life, the incompleteness, the imperfections, and perhaps the lingering guilt over things we did, didn’t do, or didn’t say.  Memories make us yearn to live parts of our lives over again, to speak the unsaid, to hear the unheard, to sing the melodies left unsung. They make us long to be nonchalant, to make amends, to love more openly, to express more freely, to understand, to empathise, to connect more deeply, and to be honest to oneself. But most of all, they make us wish for a chance to look at life with a fresh perspective, a chance to become someone else—or perhaps a better version of ourselves.  But life doesn’t offer such chances, so we make do with who we’ve become, trying to find happiness and purpose to fuel the fire within. 

We may not have the “perfect” life, but we have each other to look through the window to new perspectives. 

Lots of love,

Ammus

17th September 2017

Happy 21st birthday my dear boy,

Recently, a friend of mine shared an experience with me. Let me recount it in her own words:

" Do You know how I started driving? I learned, got my licence, and, even bought an automatic car specifically so that I wouldn’t have to fuss with things like gears, which felt way above my skill level. Still, the car sat home for ages because I never got to the point of experimenting my driving skills. But, last year, during my son's class 10 model exams, he insisted one day that I drive him to school. I tried to reason with him every way I could; cried, cajoled, even threatened, but nothing worked. He flatly announced that if I wouldn’t drive him, he wouldn't write the exam, and he walked right out to the car, waiting for me to take the driver's seat. I had no choice. So, I drove. He told me “Mumma you drive, whatever happens, we will deal with it”. After I dropped him off, I just sat in the car for nearly half an hour. Not because I was taking in my new surge of adventure with contentment but because I was completely clueless about how to reverse the car. In the end, I decided to just keep going forward wherever the road would take me. Somehow, by following a lot of left turns, I managed to get back home. For the next nine days, I took the exact same route to drop him off and pick him up. To this day, I still don’t know how to reverse or park properly. But I drive, and I am happy for it, being a ‘bad’ driver, who still doesn’t know the nuances. One time, I parked my car, went shopping, and returned to find cars parked in front and behind mine. There was no way I could manoeuvre my car out of that space, as such expertise was beyond me (still is). So, I decided to leave it, took an auto and went home. I came back around 9 pm, with another auto to retrieve my car. Since then, I’ve stopped stressing about “what if I can’t park or reverse?” I’ve gotten used to people honking or being rude to the amateur driver in me. I’ve stopped trying to raise my bar to meet other people’s expectations, and I no longer let expectations take the fun out of my journey. 

This confession was deeply inspiring. Especially the part about not raising your bar just to meet other people’s expectations. In fact, don’t we all do this, often without realising how it pulls us away from our own happiness? We all deserve a share of life’s joys, a bit of fun, a taste of adventure, a fleeting fantasy, a touch of romance, a surge of excitement and above all, the small hope, however insignificant it might seem to be, that our share of happiness is always a doorstep away, waiting for us to knock on. 

When I shared this story with some of my male friends, they all responded with, “Oh, come on, if she can drive, how hard can it be to learn reversing or parking? If she learned driving through a driving school, they definitely would have trained her in all that. It is no big deal.”  And there, I realized, lies a key difference in perspective between men and women. 

Men often feel compelled to provide solutions, especially to women, viewing situations from their own vantage point. But sometimes what people really seek isn’t advice or fixes; but just an ear to listen, to nod along, to say, ‘Yeah I get it’ and maybe offer a reassuring pat on the back: “you did well though, and things may get even better”.

There’s a kind of freedom in showing your ignorance instead of pretending to be an expert. If you can laugh at your lack of knowledge without embarrassment, then you have probably hit the jackpot. From this story, I learnt that, when you judge others, you are often holding a mirror up to your own judgements of yourself. And that’s a lesson worth carrying forward.

Lots of love,

Aammus

17th September 2018

My dear boy,

Another year, Yet another birthday. Happy 22nd.

I always thought of you as my boy. But over time, here came moments, when I began wishing that you were actually mine. I have silently cried, feeling the weight of having no control over your life, especially in those moments when you were caught up in your family hardships, or wrestling with your own inner conflicts. I watched you, quietly, as you faced each storm, but I also saw your resilience. You rose up each time—sometimes worn, sometimes wounded, but always with a smile, even when your spirit had taken a blow. There were countless moments when, I feared life’s challenges would overtake you. Every time I tried to lift your spirits and boost your confidence, I carried my own fears, though I kept them hidden. Each time, you found your way through and I would breathe a quiet sigh with relief, even as I caught glimpses of the tears you tried to conceal.

I know you feel that your goals still lie in the distance, and that watching others race ahead, sometimes makes you feel as if you’re lagging behind. Life has not made it easy; Your circumstances have always played games with you. Your family responsibilities kept you tethered, pushing you to take paths others may not understand. I know you’ve often felt defeated, that you’ve lost hope at times, and maybe even thought of quitting. 

Over the years I have come to truly understand myself, discovering traits which kept me going. I’ve found that, despite how often I think or speak in negative tones, there’s an innate positivity that keeps me going. Each time something goes wrong, I turn it over in my mind, worrying and analyzing it so deeply and ruthlessly that, in the end, I emerge with a solution. This happens because I am determined to always look ahead with hope, and purpose Without those I would feel empty. I simply don’t accept a defeat; I persist until I find a way forward. These traits were with me all along, though I only truly recognized them with age. Now I know who I am, and I see the same strength growing in you. I have no doubt that you will keep pushing towards your goals with that same tenacity, that restlessness to achieve and move beyond. Somewhere along the way, your dreams became mine too, your happiness my happiness. But please, my dear boy, never feel weighed down by any expectations I might have. This journey, these achievements—they belong to you alone. They are yours because you have earned them, and whatever you accomplish will be purely and wholly yours. Life goes on, people move on, situations change and eventually, we come to understand that change is the only constant in life. Yet, there are some constants that time can never touch, my love and affection for you, for instance. You were, you are, and, you will always be ‘my boy’ 

All that being said, I still expect that private jet you promised to get me some day!!!

Mind it!!

Love and hugs,

Ammus

17th September 2019

My dear boy,

At 23, you continually surprise me with the clarity of your thinking and how effortlessly you put them into words! I love listening to your mature reflections and can’t help but wish that I’d had even half of this insight and intelligence when I was your age. How vulnerable and unsure I was about life back then! I still remember leaving home for the first time, moving to the capital city for higher studies. How much I missed home, friends and everything about my past life! Looking back now, I can see how naïve I was, pretending to be strong and independent, while feeling terribly insecure and an emotional mess inside. As an introvert, I often felt lost in a crowd, searching for validation from others. I was always a bit diffident growing up—often ridiculed by those around me, even close ones, for my silence.

Perhaps that left me, over time, to develop a blunt and candid exterior. At my workplace-, yes, the very same school where you studied-, I knew there were rumours about me being nonchalant and aloof. Yet, a few people took the time to understand me, reaching out and breaking through my guarded boundaries. I am grateful to those handful of friends who came closer, including my husband, who saw beyond my silence.

Interestingly, over the years following my marriage, I became so outspoken and defensive about myself that I earned the label of the “black sheep” of the family. After many unsuccessful attempts-, both natural and assisted, to have a child, we finally became exhausted and decided to call it quits. There was a time I did conceive, but complications forced me to undergo an abortion. I remember writing a melancholic piece afterward, sharing it with my husband, crying together for a while and then moving on. For the next four years, I never looked back at those days. I embraced life as a teacher, a voracious reader, a lousy cook and a movie buff. At a certain point, however, the barrier I’d built around my detachment finally fell, and my life took a turn I never expected. It flipped entirely upside down. I discovered, to my own surprise that I was capable of feeling like a mother—or more accurately, a deeply concerned one. For the first time, two kids walked into my heart, awakening in me an instinct I’d never known, and compelling me to see life from a perspective that was entirely foreign to me. It changed my whole persona. They introduced me into worry, concern, sense of responsibility and care - things that I had never truly felt until then. Suddenly, I found myself deeply invested in their studies, exams, health and future. I began to understand, in full measure, what a mother feels when her child is sick or struggling, or when someone else scolds them. These two children taught me an entirely new syllabus on love and empathy. My boys have their own families and don’t stay with me. Yet, they know how much they mean to me and understand that, like a mother, I would do anything and everything for them. I feel their warmth and affection deeply when they call me ‘Ammoos’ and treat me with the love and trust of a true mother. Today, I want to remind you, my boy, as the elder of the two, that the unique bond that the three of us share, is a gift, a stroke of sheer luck. Even when I am gone, I hope that you two will be there for each other to share both happiness and sorrow. This is the first time I’m sharing this so openly, and my eyes are welling up as I write.

Lots of love,

Ammus

17th September 2020

My dear boy,

How tolerant are we, truly? Or perhaps, how intolerant? How often do we find ourselves apologetic, and how often unapologetic? These questions linger. In Origin of Species, Charles Darwin spoke of ‘survival of the fittest’, noting that every living being, from the simplest moss to the most complex animals, fights to survive. In this relentless struggle, survival itself becomes the ultimate purpose. So that means, every living creature works tirelessly to protect its own existence. What role, then, do emotions like Love play in this grand survival drama? So, my point is simple; our intolerance stems directly from Darwin’s theory. I do not tolerate any intrusion into my personal space at any cost; it’s my survival pod, my sanctuary. But recently a conversation with a friend gave me pause. He shared a perspective on tolerance that was both refreshing and challenging. He suggested that life could can be even less stressful and far calmer, if we could release our attachment to this “own space” we guard so fiercely. He spoke from experience. As an avid promoter of Ham radio, he’s involved in various social initiatives, providing communication services during crises like floods, pandemics, and other emergencies. Through the Ham network, he and his team offer their assistance purely out of goodwill—no monetary gain, just a commitment to serve. It’s a form of altruism where tolerance becomes second nature, woven into each action, each call for help. 

Circumstances shape us far more deeply than we often realize, moulding our outlook and leading us, unapologetically, to believe that there is nothing beyond our narrow perspective. We live in cocoons, not necessarily out of comfort but more out of an instinct to avoid the unpredictable threats that life can bring. It is less a comfort zone, and more a self-imposed boundary —a shrinking circle whose radius tightens with each choice to stay inside. For me, this private space is something I fiercely protect, and I recognize the privilege of being able to do so. My circumstances afforded me the luxury to create and nurture this space, to find solace in solitude. But In your case, you treasure something that has rarely been granted to you. You rarely got the opportunity to create your private space and that may be why you guard it so intensely, even feel a certain obsession with it. Whenever someone new enters that space, you likely feel the pressure of the change they bring. Allowing someone into our private realm is only tolerable when it’s done by choice, when it’s a conscious decision rather than a reaction to the currents around us. That’s when the boundary of self opens up with acceptance, rather than resistance, and allows space to merge with others naturally, without a sense of invasion. My dear boy, lately, I sense a deep aversion in you, whenever you talk about love and relationships. It is perfectly natural to stumble and make mistakes when navigating romance, especially at your age. There is a long way to go before you fathom the true essence of the concept of love. It’s something that takes time and experience to understand. 

Right now, I see you are making choices guided by a clear vision for your future. I have no doubt that these choices will support you in reaching your goals. But I worry that you are turning bitterness from past experiences inward, blaming yourself and rejecting the ideas of love and intimacy altogether.

Remember, nothing, that enters our lives by force can truly endure. Only when we approach love with tolerance, openness, and respect—when we let go of resentment and are ready to accept it fully—can we truly thrive in a relationship. Even if you aren’t ready to embrace love just yet, try to respect the feeling itself. 

Happy 24th, my dearest. There is a beautiful, long road ahead for you.

Lots of love

Aammus

17th September 2021

My dear son,

Guilt has a way of keeping us grounded. It makes us empathise, pulls us into self-retrospect, forces us to look honestly at ourselves. Processing of guilt is like a dissection-, it questions us, humbles us, humiliates us, shatters us, and only then, slowly builds us back up.

This is a journey that you have never taken before, and it is far from simple. The path you’re on now is one of unknowns: an unsettling blend of uncertainty, fear, and guilt. If you try to process any of it in your head, you end up falling into a maze. People like you and me always are in search of clarity, a purpose, a plan to execute, a result to achieve. Without any of these, the floating feeling can be unbearable, like a weightless log drifting around. 

Leaving your father’s side while he is in the hospital is difficult beyond words. This trip, though, is essential for you, while some people may not understand; hold firm in the knowledge of why you must go. Making a mistake is not a crime. What is unpardonable is thinking that you can make mistakes and that all will be taken for granted. And I am sure that my son does not fall into that category. I know you carry responsibility with integrity and that you don’t take for granted the privilege of trying, failing, and trying again. But keep in mind that this phase comes in everyone’s life eventually, and there’s no shortcut through it. 

For now, set aside any attempts to process the guilt. it won’t help and might only cloud your focus. Later, perhaps, you’ll look back with clearer eyes When that time comes, remember that you reached this point through immense perseverance: the struggle, the exhaustion, each sleepless night, the suppressed emotions, the haunting pain, the loneliness, the endless blame game, and the unspoken frustrations. You reached here by sheer gruelling effort, one that many would have sidestepped, but you pushed forward each time to take that little step ahead. If guilt is what is haunting you, then take a time travel to your past. When you’re ready to reflect, it will all connect and bring the clarity you’re searching for. Right now, be a little selfish, and allow yourself to give your best shot, unapologetically. Focus on the interviews ahead, and know that I am with you in spirit, as always. Although this may not be the happiest of birthdays, it is still one more step on your journey. 

Always yours, 

Ammus

18th September 2022

My dear boy,

Hurt, pain, and sorrow-, all are parts of the game. When the weight of pain becomes unbearable, it often turns into anger. I sense this is where you find yourself now.  Unresolved family conflicts leave scars we carry forever. You asked a profound question: “when we are no longer affected by external pain elements, or when we are able to detach ourselves from pain by absorbing only the facts, can we claim to have attained freedom?” The answer might lie in, a few other questions. How many, truly reach that place? To me, it feels like eternity anyway. Every time I believe to have reached there, something hurts me so deeply that I pull back, landing me right back at square one. Perhaps, my dear, there is no final “there”, as we believe. Maybe this idea of “attaining” freedom from pain is an illusion. What we call “freedom” is really just an evolving process. Each time we advance a step forward, life’s trials may pull us two steps back. The trick, if there is one, is learning to balance the pull and the progress. The loss of your father has left a deep wound, and healing may take a lifetime, —or may never fully happen. Thoughts are often uninvited guests; processing them can be cumbersome, yet we do it to such an extent that we wouldn’t even realise that they stayed on. Deep rooted and onerous, they can be far more dangerous than we can ever imagine.

For now, allow yourself the time to sleep on your sorrow and anger. Let the intensity of this moment pass. Once, that spell is lifted, you will be able to revisit it with a calmer conscience and an open heart. Solutions may present themselves in time. In between all the uproar, I forgot to wish you, sweetheart. A belated but heartfelt wish for on your 26th year.

Lots of love,

Ammus

17th September 2023

For my dearest son: 

This is not the first birthday note I’ve written you. I don’t remember how many I have written., five, six—I’ve lost count!? Well, that’s not so important. Today, I am just recollecting the paths that we have walked. We have come a long way, haven’t we? you and I, always moving forward of course, laughing away our fears, insecurities, and sorrows. It’s been a journey in which I learnt the power of positive thinking, hope and above all, love. Through the years, I have felt happy and proud to be your support. Whenever life weighed too heavily, and you came running into my arms, your insides hurting and your pain shattering your very existence, I was here, holding you. Each time, we managed to find our way, back to hope, the hope for a better, brighter future. Maybe even the best.

But now, my dear, I sense a shift. Perhaps my hold no longer offers the comfort it once did. Son, you’ve reached a place where you need something different, something beyond my solace. And so, I offer you this letter. This is the only gift I can give you on your 26th birthday—a reminder of the strength you carry within, the wisdom you’ve earned, and the road you’ll continue to walk.

Staying afloat: 

Sometimes hope itself can feel like a weight, the past, like a nightmare, and future like an illusion that slips further away. Nothing makes sense. Life sometimes feels like an endless mountain, a stretch of desert where the mirages keep eluding you. Circumstances strangle you from all sides, responsibilities suffocate you and your life gets entangled inside a clock. All of a sudden you realise, that you never looked into yourself, or discovered who you are, or who you wanted to be. At that juncture, all you can do is ‘stay afloat’. because you prefer not to sink. You float and float and float till you regain the strength and want, to try again, to hope again, to wind your clock again. That may take time; the time that you thought you never had-the seconds and minutes that you could not spare, the clouds and moon you never saw, the waves and sand that never drenched you, and the moments that you never lived. Right now, my dearest son, I believe you are at that juncture. This is your time to feel, to heal, to sort through the things you’ve had to set aside. This is your time to catch the moments that slipped by, and trust me, somewhere out there, there is a shore waiting just for you—a place to anchor, breathe, and find yourself, until you find your feet again, promise me one thing: just stay afloat. I’ll be here, always, loving you, more deeply than you may ever fully know. 

Happy Birthday, my dearest son.

 With all my love, always,

Ammus

17th September 2024

My dear son,

I shared a few life lessons I learned from you on social media, though I didn’t get your permission. 

Lesson from my 28-year-old boy:

1. Celebrate the small wins:

Not just for the victory, but for the growth it represents. Take a moment to look back at how you once reacted in a similar situation and notice the difference today. Every refined, calmer, wiser version of you, however subtle is, a win worth celebrating. It’s the small, steady steps that bring us closer to the person we aspire to be.

2. Appreciation vs Criticism:

If appreciation does not excite you, then criticism won’t hurt you. What a simple yet powerful philosophy! The more you let praise elevate you, the deeper disapproval can wound. When you master the technique of detachment from approval of others, flak would no longer affect you. Because the brain cooks both emotions in the same pot, it seems! I’ll admit, I’ve never fully mastered this technique; I do get excited by praises and criticism stings.  After all these years, here I am, learning this from my 28-year-old son, 

My dearest, I hope that you don’t mind me sharing your wisdom. It feels almost redundant to keep expressing how deeply you mean to me because we both know it well, don’t we? This time, let me put it in a different way: I hope you are now strong enough to face and let go of the variables in your life, that you can brush aside the imperfections as simply part of being human. I wish with all my heart that you are starting to believe in life again and that you are beginning to feel capable of trusting and loving, of feeling safe within yourself and the world around you. I am glad that you have found the girl of your dreams and eagerly waiting to tie the knot. 

My wish for you is a life filled with steady support-, a hand to hold when things feel uncertain, a life that keeps you humane even in adversity, a life that keeps you committed to your values, a life that nourishes your passions, a life that makes you stand strong for your loved ones. May it be, a life that teaches you resilience, one where you can endure the pain with a smile, and hardship with grace, finding moments of joy even in times of sorrow. And above all, I hope you find contentment —a calm, deep-rooted sense of peace that holds steady no matter what storms come your way. Life will keep on throwing challenges at you. And I’ll always feel that bit of responsibility, that deep urge to see you through them, to protect you from vulnerabilities. 

Dear son,

Wish you a happy birthday. I hope that, no matter who steps into your life, you’ll always find a safe place to pour your heart out with me. I know it may sound selfish, but I’d like to believe I have a little right to that.  There’s something precious in knowing that, through all the changes and people that come your way, there will always be a part of you that’s just ours—a connection woven from countless shared thoughts, dreams, and reflections. So, here’s to another year of growth, resilience, and beautiful moments.

Always yours,

Ammus

By Sarada Harish