Alright, so the house runs like a well-oiled machine. No jarring sounds, no squeaks. Just a little tinkering from time to time and all is well! Or so I thought… until very recently. Food is cooked, clothes are neatly ironed, the fridge is stocked, groceries are replenished in time, the maid works like a pro and everything is spic and span. There is a place for everything and, miraculously, everything in its place. So what happened suddenly, how did the near-perfect world collapse around me? Well, what I was missing was that no matter how well-oiled or sophisticated the machinery, it won't do its job without human intervention. My mom, in this case. For a while she had a sore throat, dull pain in the body, listlessness. Oh well, I thought, nothing that an adrak chai, Crocin and a good night's sleep can’t take care of. Boy was I wrong? And how!
The morning after...the house is in disarray. Suffice to say our so called machine has broken down and refuses to budge. Clam down; I manage to comfort myself. Cornflakes or muesli for breakfast, now that's one meal out of the way. Maid helpfully cooks one veggie for lunch, rice and dal for dinner, end of day one. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow comes with a huge question mark...the same rig-ma-role of breakfast, lunch, dinner needs to be addressed. Oh my God, how do I handle this situation? What have I gotten myself into? What do I do first? Do I shell the peas? Do the laundry? Make the bed? Answer the door? Supervise the maid, who has a missed a glaring spot on the floor? Wait wait wait… the milk is furiously boiling all over the kitchen platform. Good morning to me! Oh God! Give me 20 hands and 48 hrs in a day please. Won't you? I promise I'll be good!
OK, so somehow the cooking is managed or better still, gotten out of the way. Now why the hell is the fridge empty and what happened to the groceries...finished already? Really? How much do we eat anyway? Oh well, I pick up my wallet & a cloth bag (environment friendly, you see, so no plastic, I carry my own bag thank you very much!) and gingerly make my way to the sabziwala. I pretend to select the tomatoes, imitating the other auntyjis around me. I can feel the subziwala's eyes boring into me. At any moment, I am afraid, he would pounce on me and say "gotcha, u fool no one, can't tell cluster beans from french beans can you now?!” Well I am not waiting for any such eventuality, and quickly deposit my selection of (some kinda) beans onto the measuring scale. Haan Bhabhi hogya ek kilo...he says, I look around, who are you talking to?? Me? Bhabhi? Oh well it had to happen one day, might as well have been today. I quickly pay him, and carry my purchases home. The washing machine has just completed its cycle.
Next trip Big Bazaar. I very confidently march in with a trolley and a list in one hand. My confidence flounders as I reach the aisle with all the dals. Oh hell, how many yellow dals are there? And which one is what? An auntie has been eyeing my confusion, I give up and ask her to help me pick out the toor dal, she smiles indulgently and points to a packet clearly marked "toor dal". Note to self: next time read the label, stupid! Out of the corner of my eyes, I see auntyji walk back to her husband, she whispers something to him and both look at me and smile. Oh come on people, I just asked for dal not information on birth control, get on with it!
Amidst all this there is just no time for self. Forget a leisurely bath; a quick shower seems like a luxury! Forget the body lotion and combing the hair, a clutch will hold them in place, the damn toor dal is bubbling over!!!!
All this while, know what my mom is doing? Resting? No Sir. She might be lying in bed, but has her eyes and ears open! She checks my purchase…why have you bought potatoes the size of hand grenades? They will take forever to boil! And why Big Bazaar? Is the neighbourhood bania not good enough for you? Blah blah blah. All the while shouting instructions to the maid! Mothers...I tell you.
The very sleep which was characterised by frequent dreams of vacations in the milky Swiss Alps is now marred with nightmares that have me standing in the kitchen where the milk is boiling away and flooding the entire kitchen! The smell of rotten vegetables has engulfed me, since I forgot to keep them in the fridge! In yet another nightmare, I am begging Shashank to stay at home with me and not go to office. I can’t hold this fort alone, I tell him! (Note how one person out of action makes a home a fort!)
Now I know what it takes to run a house, or so I think. Heart felt gratitude goes out to all the women who manage to juggle house, work, kids, and husband and still manage to maintain their sanity!
And Mom, get well soon and share your tricks and ideas for running the house, won't you?! This time I will listen I promise!
And thanks Shashank, for managing to buy and deliver vegetables in between client meetings and presentations. You do a better job of picking vegetables, I assure you that. And Meghana, for rattling off recipes for soups like the next Nigella Lawson. What would I do without you?!
At times like this I miss my sister Shweta...she is such a whiz in the kitchen. Not to forget my master chef friend Kajal. You make cooking seem so easy, you are truly blessed!
Big salute to all home-makers, you are not appreciated enough!
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