The alarm rang at 6.15 a.m. Before it could ring a second time, a swift hand shot out from the coverlets and slammed it shut. Unfortunately, in her hurry to prevent her husband from getting disturbed she did the opposite. It came crashing down on his head. A rude awakening, she cringed, patted her bewildered partner, who had shot up from his bed, expecting an earthquake and relieved that it was only his wife. Her day had just begun.
This was Mumbai, circa 2012. The day had just begun. Breakfast was ready by 7.30. The eggs today had had a mind of their own. From the frying pan, they had landed into the fire. Hastily rescued, they were none the worse for the wear, if slightly singed. As was she. Clucking over her, her kid fished out a band aid, and applied it, soothing her with a kiss, and a "Great eggs, Ma, Smoked?" her words of greeting a balm for her ego.
By the time 8.30 rolled around, fortified by a hearty breakfast inside her, and the presence of the maid in the kitchen, she was her usual calm, organised self. With a cheery wave, and an intimate look, the husband was sent off. The kid was a different proposition. Brunch served on the run as , as the time for college drew alarmingly near. Wardrobes were dived into, and clothes strewn around like confetti, before the look of the day was decided. To her credit, her room which resembled a battlefield one moment, with bodies strewn all around was aspick and span the next. Of course, to open her cupboard, thereafter you had to be very brave or foolhardy. Or both.
The washing machine having deferred its monotonous beeps, till after they left, she sprung into action. The clothes were dutifully hung, quartered and er, dried. The maid, waiting with her foot tapping, was next. Chased off by her to swab and clean the kitchen, she then sallied forth to the grocers. After much verbal duelling, the days groceries nestling in her bag, she returned.
Operation Food was then set into motion. Lunch, dinner and maid simmering, she turned her attention to the home. Dust is to Mumbai, as snow is to the arctic, sand to the Sahara. With a sniffly nose and a wheezy maid dogging her, they kicked up a storm, a dust storm, between them. Surveying the now clean kitchen, she sallied off to her daily ritual of bath and prayer, while the maid made a discreet exit, the loud banging of the door announcing her escape.
The increasing heat brought in lunch time and the better half in need of sustenance. Greeted with a warm smile and hot food, he retreated for a siesta, having first carefully placed the clock in the hall. Siesta for her meant catching up with the day's news.
Evening brought the teen home. Her day lightened, as they regaled each other with the billion things that made them each others' best friend.
Dinner was a family affair, Hot food, hotter topics, laughter, brought warnth to the hearth and heart. As the television regaled afterwards, she cleaned up. "Sleeping soon ?" asked the better half as he prepared to retire. "In just a minute, she replied. Checking up on the kitchen, making the beds, then laying out the money for the next day's milk, she did eventually drift into the bedroom. " What did you do today, honey," he asked. Snuggling into her covers, she sighed, "Nothing much " before drifting off to sleep.
This was Mumbai, circa 2012. The day had just begun. Breakfast was ready by 7.30. The eggs today had had a mind of their own. From the frying pan, they had landed into the fire. Hastily rescued, they were none the worse for the wear, if slightly singed. As was she. Clucking over her, her kid fished out a band aid, and applied it, soothing her with a kiss, and a "Great eggs, Ma, Smoked?" her words of greeting a balm for her ego.
By the time 8.30 rolled around, fortified by a hearty breakfast inside her, and the presence of the maid in the kitchen, she was her usual calm, organised self. With a cheery wave, and an intimate look, the husband was sent off. The kid was a different proposition. Brunch served on the run as , as the time for college drew alarmingly near. Wardrobes were dived into, and clothes strewn around like confetti, before the look of the day was decided. To her credit, her room which resembled a battlefield one moment, with bodies strewn all around was aspick and span the next. Of course, to open her cupboard, thereafter you had to be very brave or foolhardy. Or both.
The washing machine having deferred its monotonous beeps, till after they left, she sprung into action. The clothes were dutifully hung, quartered and er, dried. The maid, waiting with her foot tapping, was next. Chased off by her to swab and clean the kitchen, she then sallied forth to the grocers. After much verbal duelling, the days groceries nestling in her bag, she returned.
Operation Food was then set into motion. Lunch, dinner and maid simmering, she turned her attention to the home. Dust is to Mumbai, as snow is to the arctic, sand to the Sahara. With a sniffly nose and a wheezy maid dogging her, they kicked up a storm, a dust storm, between them. Surveying the now clean kitchen, she sallied off to her daily ritual of bath and prayer, while the maid made a discreet exit, the loud banging of the door announcing her escape.
The increasing heat brought in lunch time and the better half in need of sustenance. Greeted with a warm smile and hot food, he retreated for a siesta, having first carefully placed the clock in the hall. Siesta for her meant catching up with the day's news.
Evening brought the teen home. Her day lightened, as they regaled each other with the billion things that made them each others' best friend.
Dinner was a family affair, Hot food, hotter topics, laughter, brought warnth to the hearth and heart. As the television regaled afterwards, she cleaned up. "Sleeping soon ?" asked the better half as he prepared to retire. "In just a minute, she replied. Checking up on the kitchen, making the beds, then laying out the money for the next day's milk, she did eventually drift into the bedroom. " What did you do today, honey," he asked. Snuggling into her covers, she sighed, "Nothing much " before drifting off to sleep.
so typically you!
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