EMACIPATION
“Namaste aunty” I said, trying to
sound cheerful, I was actually happy to finally reach Suresh uncle’s house
after an hour long journey. Sitting in a car for an hour, from the airport to
Rajinder Nagar in mid-June, actually feels like a journey. AC in Delhi cars is
not any different from the fancy vase my dad got last year; they are just
decorative pieces.
I wanted to bathe; my t shirt was
stuck to my back with a patch of sweat giving it a slightly darker tint of pink.
I needed a sofa to sit, and a glass of chilled water or may be two. It was 4-5
seconds and aunty was still not opening the door. Dressed in a flimsy nighty and hair smeared in
mehendi making the smallest bun I have ever seen; peeking through the mesh door, trying to remember my name. She needed help.
“Saumya”, I said. Rakesh Sharma’s daughter, from Rishikesh. “Oh right”, she
quickly opened the door “But Suresh said you were coming in the evening.” Did she say Suresh?; I said to myself. All these years I haven’t heard my mother
take my dad’s name. But what’s wrong with
that?; said my inner feminist streak. You
call Karan, Karan and not Karan ji, or Dhoundiyal ji ; so stop judging her.
But it was still odd for me. I smiled every time she called uncle- Suresh.
I was already feeling better having
that amazing aam panna aunty got me and a hot cheela with super spicy mint
chutney. “I hope you like it. That’s what I could make that quickly. Suresh
called me half an hour back saying that you will be coming in the evening.” I
was tired, I was famished and there hot cheela was staring me at my face, I
wanted to gobble down every bit of it and polish off the chutney without being
distracted. So I just smiled to everything she said. The cheela was thin,
crunchy from the sides and really soft from the centre, thank god I listened to
my dad. You never get this good food in office accommodation. She came with
another one, and I couldn’t say no. “This is very good aunty, I usually don’t
eat that much. But you are a very good cook.” I said. “Thank you beta, even
pandit ji said so.” She said. Pandit
ji?...where did he come from? Never mind. “When Suresh and I went to our
pandit ji for the first time and he saw my hand, he told Suresh- you are
blessed to have a beautiful wife like her.” She smiled. Flirty pandit, I thought. “She is honest and innocent and by
looking at her had I can say that she is very good with art.” she said as pride
filled her eyes. As I licked my fingers I asked her “So you paint as well? Wow!”
I said forcing fake inquisitiveness on my thankful face. “No but I cook very
well. Won’t you agree? I mean last we came to you place Suresh couldn’t have
more than two rotis.” She giggled. She cooks really well, but was she accusing
my mum to be a bad cook? Humility is indeed a lost virtue.
“Would you want to lie down for
some time?” She asked me. “You can take a shower and change in that bathroom”
she giggled again while continuously pointing at the door. “It’s clean. We clean
both our bathrooms every week. It’s horrible to go to people’s house and the
bathrooms are untidy. You know you can get infections. I have a very sensitive skin;
I can’t event use Suresh’s towel.” As I waited at the door holding my towel waiting
for her to finish, she suddenly turned around to talk to the maid, ignoring me
like I never existed. “Rekha I have made a cheela for you too. Eat before you
go.”
I am staring at the ceiling fan, it’s
not moving, the AC in the room is quite effective. Its 5 pm in the evening and
I am really cautious of not messing up the bed. M laying straight, trying to
superimpose myself on the vertical lines of the checkered red and white bed
sheet. And the bell rings. I guess uncle
is here. I quickly change my shorts to a night pajama my mum stuffed in my bag
for situations like these. “Namaste uncle”, I said while I bent down to reach
out for his feet. “Saumya how are you. Rakesh and bhabiji have groomed you
well. Our children never touch feet. I am very happy. Nikki and Rohaan should
learn from you.” I smiled, Romila aunty quietly
handed over the glass of water without acknowledging what he said.
“Uncle you look pale. Are you
okay?” as I settle myself on the couch kept right diagonal his. “He hasn’t been
keeping well.” interrupted aunty. “When will you visit the doctor next? I have
a couple of things to get from the market. Pick them up when you visit Dr
Kapoor next.”
“I will go tomorrow, when I get all
my reports. Just give me the list; I will get it whatever time I am going. When
is your flight?” he asked aunty. For a second I thought he was asking me. “It’s
tomorrow, I will go to the airport with Saumya, she will get an office cab.”
Aunty said.
Well! I said to myself. Did anyone
even ask me? Where was she going anyway? I can drop her, that’s not the problem,
but I definitely don’t appreciate people just piling on to me like this. I got
up, went to the balcony and dialed my mother.
“But they are nice people, they treated you so
well. And stop being so judgmental always. They are treating you like their own
daughter Saumya.” My mum said. She is always trying to pacify me, we call her
Samjhota Express. While my brother, my dad and I keep quarrelling over issues
and our point of views, my mum just keeps explaining us the other’s point of view.
I love her, but I don’t want to be like her. She is extremely composed like Buddha,
I am more humane in my form. She gave her life to raise us. And we never grew
up.
“But she called you a horrible
cook, mumma. She said that Suresh uncle couldn’t eat more than 2 rotis at our
place. She was also complaining of bathrooms…not sure if she was referring to
ours.”
“But you said she took care of you.
She is a good cook and also made a cheela for her maid. She is caring, Shona. And you know we are a bunch of lazy people,
we don’t invest so much time into cooking or even cleaning. You tell me when
was the last time you entered kitchen? Or cleaned your room?”….”stop judging
people every second with what they say”
“Just observe what they do” we
spoke in chorus. I am sure she smiled from the other side. My mum was full of
gyaan. “Ok mommy, I will keep the phone now.” I said.
It was dinner time. I had great
hopes from the dinner. Romila aunty had made chicken for me and it looked very
ordinary with a thick layer of green coriander floating on top. I helped her in
setting the table. It was aunty, uncle and I on the table and both uncle and I
were fiddling our phones. “Do you want one more roti?” aunty inquired. I
nodded. The chicken was delicious. My mum didn’t know to cook half as well as
this. I couldn’t cook to save my life! “Keep all the bones on this plate; I
will feed them to the street dogs. They never get to eat good stuff as we do.”
She said.
I was again judging her, but this
time with what she was doing. Making a cheela for the maid, feeding bones to
the street dogs, taking care of the house, uncle’s food, its not easy. Four of
us fail as a family to do so much which she manages alone. She wasn’t as bad as
I thought she was. Is she the independent women of the 21st century,
bold, independent, not shying away from speaking her mind?
“Rekha’s sister will come in the
afternoon to cook for you, when I am not around. She is thin, but she is very
dark.” She giggled again. “I don’t know how someone can be so dark. Rekha is
still wheatish. I am not sure if her sister takes a bath everyday. Well there
can be no other reason why one is so dark.” Romila aunty was mumbling. Was she
discriminating someone on colour? No I am not judging again. I am too confused
now. She is quite a layered person. I would rather concentrate on the last
piece of chicken left in the bowl.
Suddenly uncle stood up and went to
his room and called aunty inside. His phone was in his hand. Was he going to
tell her not to talk gibberish infront of a girl who was continuously judging
her? I hope not. But he looked tensed. There better be a good reason to get up
and leave all that cool stuff she cooked.
“So? What do we do now? I am
leaving tomorrow Suresh. And I am not cancelling my tickets now. I have given
all my life to this house and your kids. You cannot stop me from taking my
vacation. My kitty friends have been planning for this since last month.” She
was loud and clear.
Why would uncle stop her from going
where ever she was going? Why do men have to dominate our lives? My mum often
cancelled her trips to her parents for our Parent-Teacher Meetings in school. I
mean my father could have just gone alone. But no, every time my mother used to
cancel her plans and she never complained. But aunty was different, she was strong
headed. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Suresh, forget it! This is not
happening. You haven’t been feeling well for a month now. What am I supposed to
do? Stop living? Just sit by you side cooking khichadi for you and giving you
your medicines? Am I your wife or a slave?” and she started crying. “You have
to do this when your friend’s daughter is here. You want to show I am insensitive,
cruel, selfish?” “is that why you called her today.”
I found it extremely embarrassing.
Were they quarreling because of me? But I was at my behavioral best. I didn’t
get up; I had no interest in the last chicken piece I was eying for long. I
heard her crying, I honestly felt bad for her. I would have never thought uncle
was that adamant, after all it is a patriarchal society that we lived in. Yes
there were changes, but the difference could only be seen in our generation. We
are financially independent, that’s what makes a difference. Now if Karan tells
me that I can’t go, I am not dependent on him for money. I can leave him, not abide by his rules.
There was a lot of anger and a lot of frustration inside me. But I chose not to
speak. I kept messaging my mum to tell her how insensitive uncle was. And she
kept reminding me to put an alarm to wake up on time for my flight tomorrow.
Mothers are strange!
I woke up next morning, brushed my
teeth, took a quick shower. Aunty wanted me to drop her to the airport, but I
had no courage to ask her. What if she feels humiliated if I ask her again? I
wasn’t sure. As I rolled my bright orange suitcase of the room I saw aunty
offering prayers to the lord. She had already taken a bath. She must have
gotten up early, taken a bath, prepared breakfast for uncle. She was wearing a
bright red colour suit which had some golden work on the neck and sleeves. Does she always dress up that much early
morning? I wondered.
She looked at me and smiled. “I am
ready”, she said.
Ready for what? Is she coming with me? Wow, I had new found respect for
her. I finally know a woman who despite being depended on someone
makes decisions of her own. I had new found respect for her. Uncle didn’t say
much. His face was swollen. That’s how
you look when an ordinary housewife defeats you with her determination and grit.
I quietly sat in the car, while the
driver helped aunty with suitcase. She looked happy and I was happy for her.
Her phone rang, it was Rohaan, her son. He was lived in Chennai, that’s the
only thing I know about him. “Yes I am on my way to the airport. I am so
excited Rohaan. I always wanted to go to Kashmir with my friends. … Oh, he
spoke to you.” I don’t know what Rohaan said but it wiped the smile across her
face. “Yes TB, so what he will be fine. And you don’t tell me what to do. I
don’t know why both of you what to show this to the whole world that I am
selfish. I have given 32 years to this house. He won’t die of tuberculosis, but
if I won’t go this time, I don’t know when I will go again with my friends
again.”
I kept quiet, like I do when I don’t
agree with a certain client; you get trained in corporates to get immune to
such situations.
