Author: Myra Srivastava | 15th November 2025
Many years ago, driven by a wave of nostalgia, I began searching through my old hard drive for childhood pictures. As I scrolled through the folders, one caught my eye. It was titled “Monika’s Babies. I remember the moment vividly. It took me precisely five seconds to open the folder, expecting to find photos of my brother and me as babies with my mother. But what greeted me was unexpected. The folder was full of pictures of my mother with her patients throughout the years.
That’s when I realized “Monika’s Babies” didn’t only refer to my brother or me. It was an album of her true babies- not necessarily the ones she gave birth to, but the ones she had raised and healed in her own unique way.
I was just six months old when I first crawled and cried around the halls of the special school where my mother, Monika, was the Principal. She would take me with her to work, and I grew up surrounded by her students, the Didis and Bhaiyas of the school who played with me, looked after me, and became a part of my earliest memories. As I grew older, I met many of my mother’s patients. Some were children, some adults, but all of them left a mark. We would visit their homes, have lunch with them, and spend afternoons playing. At first, I didn’t always understand what they were saying or trying to communicate. So, I just observed at how they reacted to her, and how she responded back to them.
Slowly, even without fully understanding, I began to enjoy being around them. Their laughter became contagious, their games fun, their company comforting. Over the years, through my mother’s work as an Occupational Therapist, I witnessed stories of strength, joy, and resilience. Today, when any of my friends casually commented on a peer’s attitude, I felt myself holding back judgement on her. Not because, I had any reason to like her, but suddenly a thought would pop up….”what if there was more going on behind that façade of arrogance?”
Yes, those early years spent with my mother while she worked have shaped me and the way I think. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from her and her many babies, it’s this:
What makes people who they are isn’t just their motor skills, speech skills, or their ability to use their hands or legs properly. It’s their passion, their creativity, their skills, and their sheer zeal for life. It’s the determination to keep going, the joy in the little things, and the grace in embracing life exactly as it is- one beautiful moment at a time.