A middle aged
Indian woman’s daily diary entry as I see it from a third perspective.
Woke up in the wee hours; tried
waking up the children. They throw some tantrums. Went in the kitchen and kept
a kettle to make tea. Came back to wake up the children. They throw in some
more fits. Sprinkled some water on their faces. They wake up. Goes back to
kitchen and puts milk for boiling. The tea is made. Goes back and wakes up the
Husband. He throws some tantrums! Tells him the tea is ready.
Goes back to children’s room,
gives them their favorite tooth paste and tom & jerry tooth brushes.
Children crib about going to school. Comforts them with how school will help
them in becoming big men/women in future. Both of the children want to use the
toilet at the same time. A fight erupts. Husband comes to rescue. She goes back
to kitchen to prepare lunch boxes and breakfast.
Wife comes back to bathe and dress
up children. Husband goes to get ready for office. Children are having
breakfast and school bags are being readied for the day. She checks their daily
school calendar. TWO SPORTS PERIODS! Her bundles of joy will return looking
like mud balls, she thinks. She smiles. Rickshaw to school comes outside.
Children hurriedly finish their milk and run out with their bags. She runs after them
with the forgotten lunch-boxes. Kisses them and good – byes are said.
Wife rushes back inside the
house. Husband is in a romantic mood. He is always in a romantic mood during
early mornings. Husband is almost ready sans his handkerchief and socks. But of
course, he can’t find his wallet or his watch either. Wife helps. He is all
set. Now she rushes to get ready. Only that she has not had her coffee yet. She
makes a cuppa first. Haves it hastily. She has forgotten the last time she savored
the aroma while enjoying a cup now, except Sundays.
The clock brings her back to
reality. She hurriedly goes to gets ready. Husband has almost finished his
breakfast. She is ready. She quickly chows down a piece of bread and feeds on
to another as she looks for house keys and other such important stuff to shove
in to her already inflated purse. She notices Husband, as always, has forgotten
to carry both their lunch boxes outside. She ponders when was the last time he
actually did not forget to? She brushes off the thought. Picks up the lunch
boxes and goes out. Door is locked.
Husband’s waiting in the car. He
drops her off at the recruitment firm where she works. It’s the only place
where she can work part time in office and part at home. The pay sucks. But it’s
close to home. Flexible hours too. She isn’t complaining. Husband goes off to
work. He will keep the car at the station and board a local train. Same story
of millions of people who live in suburbs like them.
She looks at the watch. It’s
almost time she went back home. She catches a rickshaw back home. Almost
mechanically starts preparation for the lunch. Kids will be hungry when they come back. Kids will
wreck havoc; will throw everything in all directions once home. It’s almost
like they use a compass to ensure each paired item goes in opposite direction.
Shoes, socks, ties, bags, lunchboxes and what not. And the kids come home. They
wreck havoc. They, indeed, look like Mud Balls.
She quarantines them. Again,
bathes them. They tell her everything that happened today to the minutest
detail during this ordeal. Hungry children eat and sleep off. Evening would be tuitions,
home work, music classes, U.C.Mas, play ground time, some cartoons and nighty
night.
The maid will be here soon. She can’t
use washing machine if it were a Nokia Mobile phone. Plus the kids’ clothes
require special treatment. Husband's clothes too. Mumbai
climate works wonders. Sweat mixes with dirt, pollutants, food crumbs and Cotton.Bleaches, whiteners and what not will be used, maid comes and does
the dishes first. Puts the clothes in the washing machine and goes off to clean the house. Wife sets the machine to advanced
mode to clean the stains. But first, she bleach treats them. Its the only way clothes retain some of their color. However, they get damaged early.
Her late afternoons will be spent
working for home for office and evenings in ferrying kids to various classes etc
and bringing them back. Husband will come late in the evening and time for dinner
preparation. She will get time for 1 or 2 of her favorite serials and off to
bed. Next Day, the same routine…
Looking
at the above post, I feel that the woman portrayed as goddess was, indeed, a
metaphor. The 8 hands are/would actually be utilized to be the powerhouse of energy
throughout the day juggling work, kids, food, chores, tackling maids & rickshaw wallahs, husband (read love /
romance) and what not.
So
if she had extra two hours, what would she do? I don’t know, really. Who can read a
woman’s mind ? Maybe she would just like to sleep besides her bundles of joys. Feel their presence like they were in her womb for 9 months. Maybe just notice how fast they are growing up. Maybe she would think about their future. She may have already started saving for their colleges and education. What would they be? What would be their vocation? Who would they marry? Would it be love marraige? Oh, hell no! Maybe she'd catch up on that novel she could never finish. Maybe go through the old photographs and the good times had. Maybe call her long lost friends, try to track them down. Facebook really doesn't help. Or maybe just sit back and enjoy the 2 hours with her beautician. Pamper herself. Her own personal "Spa time."
But, I know what every man, woman and a grown up should do if they
had two extra hours. Because, that’s what I would do.
Support
“STOP CHILD LABOUR” movement
in whatever way we can. Our two hours a day to help the maid’s children, our
vegetable vendor’s children, the newspaper boys, in whatever small way we
can – books, note-books, part of fees, tuitions, funding organizations who work
for underprivileged children’s education, health and opportunities. We must
help. We can make it a family affair too. Let our privileged kids see the glimpse
of what it means to be orphans. What it means to be forced to work when they
should be in school learning and exploring life.
Stains are Good when kids have the free will to
enjoy and experience life in the outside environment and get dirty in the
process. Daag Acche Hain,
indeed.
But
stains are definitely not good what a child below 14 endures at a construction
site, or, as a hotel waiter, as a carver at zari manufacturing unit 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. Daag Aise bhi na ho ki woh kalank bane! Lets us strive to become their SURF EXCEL MATIC.
This
Blog post is an entry in to Surf Excel Matic contest on Indiblogger!
