Harried. Hurried. Like most housewives in the morning. "Hah. Homemakers ! is what Roshan would say. Big deal. " She scoffed to herself. "A servant is a servant by any name. Coming maaji, " she yelled across the house. " No need to shout, I"m not deaf !" exclaimed the old lady querelously. "Well, just a little hard of hearing," she admitted reluctantly. "Where's my hearing aid ? I can't seem to find it. " Smiling wryly, she pointed out that it was caught in maaji's hair. "Auntyji ! " The peremptory tones of the help resounded from behind her, "I'm leaving, you see to the kitchen now. You have to give me my pay tomorrow. With the raise." Like a whirling dervish she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her. She glared at the shut door." Servants! What would Roshan say !"
"Maaaaa......!" The voice came from the bedroom. "What now !" muttering to herself, she hurried across to her son's room. The eleven year old, stood in front of the mirror. "Where's my gel ? And don't give me the ' You are too young to put gel ' spiel. All the boy's use it in my class." Sighing, she looked at him. "What will...." "Roshan say ! " He completed her sentence for her. "I need it by tomorrow, okay ? Let me have the money by evening please." Another door slammed in her face.
So the morning led to afternoon. "This bhaaji, is too bland, bahu. What would Roshan say, if you gave him this tasteless mess for lunch ?" She looked down at her one roti, in which the offending bhaji was wrapped. "Eat it maaji. " she said quietly. "It's good for you." The old man seated across the table looked up. " Eat it," he commanded his sullen wife. "It's much better than what you used to cook. You eat too, bahu," he said gently, noticing the hidden tear trembling within her lustrous eyes. "Roshan always says you are a fabulous cook. " The meal over, she retreated to her room, even as the television blared in maaji's room.
" Hey, baby, look what i have for you, " The deep baritone belonged to Roshan. As he dangled the watch she had long sighed over in the showroom, before her, she leapt up with a squeal of delight. The twinkle in his eyes, the love that shone in them added to her joy, as he gently took her wrist in his hand and strapped the watch on to it. Her eyes misted over as she went into the receeses of her memory hunting for sustenance, succor. " Ma ? Look what i have for you !" The voice was so like that of Roshan, she jumped up, then realised it was her son, his son. The next minute he was on the bed, arms wrapped around her, clumsily trying to wipe her eyes. " I'm there, no ? You just wait until i grow up, i' ll earn so much money, you will never have to do any housework at all, ever.I can't take dad's place," his voice choked a little, then hurriedly recovered. Now cheer up, do.." He beseeched. "Here! I brought you your favorite ice cream. Choconut. As she smiled amidst her tears, they sat mother and son, mourning the man they had both loved. Clinging on to each other and his legacy of love.
"Maaaaa......!" The voice came from the bedroom. "What now !" muttering to herself, she hurried across to her son's room. The eleven year old, stood in front of the mirror. "Where's my gel ? And don't give me the ' You are too young to put gel ' spiel. All the boy's use it in my class." Sighing, she looked at him. "What will...." "Roshan say ! " He completed her sentence for her. "I need it by tomorrow, okay ? Let me have the money by evening please." Another door slammed in her face.
So the morning led to afternoon. "This bhaaji, is too bland, bahu. What would Roshan say, if you gave him this tasteless mess for lunch ?" She looked down at her one roti, in which the offending bhaji was wrapped. "Eat it maaji. " she said quietly. "It's good for you." The old man seated across the table looked up. " Eat it," he commanded his sullen wife. "It's much better than what you used to cook. You eat too, bahu," he said gently, noticing the hidden tear trembling within her lustrous eyes. "Roshan always says you are a fabulous cook. " The meal over, she retreated to her room, even as the television blared in maaji's room.
" Hey, baby, look what i have for you, " The deep baritone belonged to Roshan. As he dangled the watch she had long sighed over in the showroom, before her, she leapt up with a squeal of delight. The twinkle in his eyes, the love that shone in them added to her joy, as he gently took her wrist in his hand and strapped the watch on to it. Her eyes misted over as she went into the receeses of her memory hunting for sustenance, succor. " Ma ? Look what i have for you !" The voice was so like that of Roshan, she jumped up, then realised it was her son, his son. The next minute he was on the bed, arms wrapped around her, clumsily trying to wipe her eyes. " I'm there, no ? You just wait until i grow up, i' ll earn so much money, you will never have to do any housework at all, ever.I can't take dad's place," his voice choked a little, then hurriedly recovered. Now cheer up, do.." He beseeched. "Here! I brought you your favorite ice cream. Choconut. As she smiled amidst her tears, they sat mother and son, mourning the man they had both loved. Clinging on to each other and his legacy of love.
pretty deep..super like..
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