Aye Zindagi!

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!