Life Leveller

Recently I attended a seminar organised by the Ministry of Textiles to promote entrepreneurship in women. It was quite a gala event and the Chairperson was the Daughter in Law (DIL) of the Textile Baron of Mumbai.

The moment she entered, a collective sigh was heard from all the participants. Dressed immaculately and loaded with diamonds from head to toe, the DIL wowed the crowd. The moment she started addressing the audience, the dazzle dimmed a little, however no matter how ill prepared she was or how ill informed about the occasion ( DIL seemed to have confused the event with one of her charity luncheons) , her diamonds still managed to engage and enthral the entire audience.

The seminar was not as lustrous as the diamonds earlier described and after a lot of boring sessions followed by super-boring ones, it finally came to an end. There was a huge rush to meet and greet the DIL and in that rush someone stepped on my sandals and one of the stings broke.

I was so furious and started cursing everyone and life in general. Here I was standing with a broken sandal while the DIL was being shipped out in a Mercedes Benz. To deal with the situation at hand, I put a safety pin on my sandal and dragged my tiny feet to a shoe shop where I bought sandals decent enough to carry me home. However it struck me as totally unfair that just because the DIL was born to a Baron and married to another Baron, she gets everything as a birthright, whereas I who had been slogging so hard, when was I ever going to get my due.

Almost a week later during a cleaning spree, I took out the broken sandals from my bag and was throwing them in the garbage when my maid saw them and asked if she could take them away. Of course I told her. And then sharing my misery I told her how bad I felt that my sandals broke and I had to walk a mile in broken sandals to buy a new pair.
She looked at me and exclaimed “your sandals broke and instead of getting them repaired, you bought new ones, how fortunate you are!”

At that moment it hit me that what I complained of about the DIL’s birthright, this maid was thinking the same about me. Compared to her life, I am living life King Size.
Life draws levels in strange ways.

Holy Mother!

It is a well known fact that mothers in India can think of only two things; one is their children and second is how to feed their children. On top of it add the adjective of being a Punjabi mother and all she can think of is puttar, parathas and butter.

I remember when I was in Delhi staying in a hostel, my mother would call up and first thing she would ask would be “how is the food?”. And the same story for all the girls in the hostel. At times I would be so angry at her for asking the same old lame question. Furious I would be, but then whenever our dabba-wala brought food which seemed like someone had just thrown up in the Tiffin, I would miss my mother oh so much.

My mothers’ pains eased only when I moved in with relatives later and she was happy that there was someone to fuss over food for me (Oh mataji).

Now working in an MNC, my colleagues visit our office from all over the world. Whenever anyone orders aloo-paratha, I cannot stop myself from telling them “No one makes parathas like my mother”.

My son is two and a half years old and so far I have been a loving mother yet have tried my level best to make him feel independent, not been overly clingy or protective. However,recently I observed that my son is losing weight.
I complained to my husband, my mother, my son's nanny and finally visited the paediatrician complaining of his weight loss and poor appetite. The Doctor laughed and said that there was no problem with my son; that he was gaining height and nothing wrong with his appetite either, just that I had finally stepped into the holy corridors of motherhood :P.