Shail’s Nest

It was all done in the spirit of good fun. I had just returned form an early morning inspection of the grounds. The fresh air full of all the ozone thingy that humans speak of had put a spring in my step. Sadly enough there were no moony love-sick Labradors around to do that. Sighhhh. So I had to make do with what was available. Anyways the fresh air having done its bit, I was in an expansive mood and decided to liven things up a bit for the two old fogeys with whom I stay. One was having his bath and the other was busy in the kitchen, probably getting (I hoped, for the morning air does make a doggie hungry) my milk ready.

I looked around and my eyes homed in on the wastepaper basket. I pounced on it, tipping it over, bit it and started shaking it imagining it was the fat cat that laughed at me sitting high on the wall. Bits of paper flew all around and littered the clean floor. Puuuuurfect! What a surprise for the fogeys who have no real excitement to speak of in their drab lives. It falls on me, to inject some thrill into their boring lives I must say.

Nosing around among the contents strewn on the floor, I chose a crumpled bit of paper that I liked the smell of and proceeded to chew on it with diligence. Nothing like something to chew on to aid doggie thought. Right then I heard the bathroom door open and looked up, pride written all over my cute doggie face at my handiwork. My tail was wagging too, maybe not nineteen to the dozen for nineteen is for special occasions not the mundane, but close enough.

What do you think happened next??!! The Dad fogey started yelling at me. Sheeesh, a girl cannot even have some fun in these parts. Dad! Don’t be such a spoilsport, I tried telling him. But he wouldn’t have a word of it. He not only chased me out of his room, but out of the house and closed the door shut with a bang. I heard him mutter something about the stupid dog having ruined his tidy room. I bet he got that from Mom fogey. She calls me ‘Stupidity’ at times.

You bet I was pissed off and royally so. The good intentions of a doggie are not understood by humans. I was going to sulk and how! I was going to hide somewhere and NOT let them find me. So there!! They were going to be so bored that they’d come in search of me. Ha!

I crawled behind a bush made myself comfortable and and was starting to doze off when I heard Mom’s voice calling to me. Come and get your Lala pachi (milk, in case you were wondering) she was saying. My tummy was growling. But no sir, I was NOT going to budge. A dog has her pride. I heard Mom ask Dad if he had seen me and Dad telling her why he had chased me off his room and out the front door. I heard Mom laugh. Oh you find it funny eh Mom??

Mom was now calling me by the many different names she has for me. Oh yessir, she has hundreds of names for me. Romakkudukka, Vellari, Cleopatra, Oolpop, Ullibajji, Chakkarakutty, Munjikkannu to name a few apart from Stupidity of course. She excels in the naming department. Yo she does! Did you guys know that she used to call one of my ancestors who had been with her in her student days by the name of ‘Soap-box’?? Crazy if you ask me. Of course there always is a story behind the names she comes up with. The Soap-box story goes like this.

This ancestor of mine, also of the Spitz breed like me, had soft white hair, just like me. Hehehe.. So Mom used to call him… Ohhh, by the way he bit Mom once! Can you believe that?? And lemme tell ya folks, I have never bitten her. I lovvvve my Mom though I never admit that to her. I cannot dream of biting her. Besides who would dare?? I mean, I must say my ancestor was one brave dog! Anyways, Mom used to call this brave dog, whose real name was Chinchu, ‘Softy’ on account of his soft white coat. And slowly the ‘Softy’ turned to ‘Choppity’ and from there it went to ‘Soppupetty’ (I told you she was crazy). Soppupetty in Malayalam means soap-box. So finally she ended up calling him ‘Soap box’ of all things. A loony-bird if ever there was one is my Mom.

I heard footsteps coming around the house. Mom was looking for me. But she was not going to find me, I was well hidden. Ooops, I spoke too soon. Just as she came around the house she spotted me. Has a sharp eye my Mom and all this talk of astigmatism and failing eyesight is a ruse methinks!!

She started laughing hysterically when she saw me and called out to Dad to tell him where I was hidden. I was offended, and didn’t look, but lay there sulking. And… and… what do you think she did?? She vanished as abruptly as she had come Mom, that was mean of you Mom. You didn’t say a word to me Mom. I am really hurt Mom.

I sighed. What was the use?? She had left. I was left with a tummy growling in protest on not getting its customary share of milk which it was supposed to around about this time of the day. I lay there wondering about my next move when I heard footsteps returning. Now what??

It was Mom again. What was that in her hand?? Had she gone to get my milk for me?? Awww Mom, you knew I was hungry didn’t you?? You always know Mom. You are the sweetest Mom a doggie can ever have… I love you Mom. The milk of doggie kindness filled my heart to the brim and was sloshing around as Wodehouse would say (Of course I don’t read Wodehouse. But my Mom does, a lot) and all set to overflow when I heard it. Click click click.

Omigawd Mom was clicking my pictures! She had only gone to get her camera. And all the while I had been…. Oh never mind. Mom, I am not speaking to you. And don’t you laugh like that. You are the meanest Mom a doggie could ever have Mom.

I promptly hid my face behind the bush.

- A 55 words story

“Who spilt the paint??” the mother asked angrily.

“Not I… ” Little heads shook denying.

“It’s you!” the mother accused her.

“I didn’t” she said indignantly.

“Liar!!!”

The boy smiled weakly, in embarrassment.

“It’s him,” she pointed.

“Oh was it you darling??” the mother smiled, hugging the son.

The non-liar daughter stood watching from the sidelines.

All ye sisters of mine (and you brothers, stay well out of this one!! Grrr….) lend me your ears or rather this being a blog and all that your eyes please. I recently came across a  ‘prescription’ and a mind-bogglingly easy one to swallow …errrr, follow, for that ‘very liberating’ feeling we the sisters have always been on the look out for. The first thought that struck me after the initial reaction that rendered me speechless and immobile with shock on perusing it was a jubilant

“Woweeeeee!!!! I gotta share this with the gals!”

Yessir, generous to a fault is what I am. Not for me, keeping such path-breaking finds all to myself. How can I, when I know that you my dear sisters are also badly in need of that feeling of liberation which has been eluding us women since centuries?! Just when we were about to throw up our hands in that final gesture of despair and defeat and withdraw dejectedly to yonder dark corner to lie down listless and ruminate on what exactly that ‘very liberating’ feeling is all about, along comes a Messiah in the garb of a psychologist (and sister psychologist at that!) and reveals all.

I know for a fact that the brothers are all ears (rather eyes) now and beside themselves with curiosity in spite of the fact that they know or should, what it did to the cat in the adage and also to the lizard in my house. They want to know the whys, hows and the wherefores of this ‘very liberating’ feeling that we are about to experience. But like hell we are going to divulge our mind-bogglingly simple secret to them.

Besides do you really think, excuse me while I guffaw not in glee, but in amused derision at the thought of any of the brothers actually being able to swallow ….errrr follow this prescription (however ‘liberating’ the result) being given us gals by our esteemed sweet sister psychologist (and let me add, without our ever having asked her for it). Not only will the brothers find it too bitter a pill and spit it out pronto, believe me you my dear sisters, they will also chafe, roar in anger, break whatever comes in their way, scream blue murder, snatch a gun and shoot, go crazy with grief, drink themselves to death, go into a fit, foam at their mouths…. in short make a sorry spectacle of themselves.

Now, we are made of sterner stuff, aren’t we?? Even though we are not born bitter-pill-swallow-ers as such, that is the role that has been expected of us down the ages and haven’t we risen admirably and taken the bait fulfilled the vocation?? You see, we have neither been cosseted by society nor pampered silly like the brothers have been, by fools among our very selves may I add?? So when one of us sisters, with not enough brains to know what is what, takes the time out to write a book to ‘enlighten’ us and asks of us what no man can ever do and thereby become the recipients of that much coveted ‘liberating’ feeling, we have to strangle her (gulp, sorry) throw bricks at her… (errrrrr…. ummm… sorry again, the tap dancing on the keyboard fingers of mine seem to have a mind of their own right now) just do the needful.

Now to the res of what the respected sister found from the dubious excellent study she seems to have made up has conducted throws light on facts hitherto obscure to us. Did you by any chance know what indicated that your marriage was a really healthy one?? The extramarital affair of your Darling Husband is what proves conclusively that your marriage is alive and kicking. Aha! Bet you didn’t know that. Does he have a mistress stashed away whom he goes to meet clandestinely?? You bet your bottom dollar that he loves you to distraction.

Don’t run after the philandering chappie with a knife advises Miss Psychologist. And a good thing she adds that, for times have changed and women now resort to martial arts and use of lethal weapon when faced with such situations rather than the ancient method of shedding copious tears which only resulted in over-salted and watery curries due to the waterworks, puffy red eyes the morning after, not to mention the stuffed up nose and the swollen look which does no good to your self esteem when you peep into the mirror and recoil in horror seeing your own reflection which is as far as can be from that of the celluloid tragedy queen who manages to remain tantalizingly beautiful in spite of crying worse than the skies in Cherrapunji.

What misconceptions we labored under till she of the psychology fame came along to wake us up from our slumber of ignorance! We grew up believing that the man who stepped out of the marital home in search of a paramour was erring. Time to change such old fashioned ideas gals! When he goes for that secret rendezvous with his mistress all he is doing is trying it ‘improve’ your marriage. What do you mean if you as a wife can also contribute to the ‘improvement’ of the marriage by taking a lover?? A noble thought I admit this wanting to assist the DH in such a difficult endeavor but, the lesson we got to learn is that it is only when a man has an extra marital affair that a marriage becomes strong. It is such hard work and we don’t make the grade for such sanctions to come our way in spite of being made of stern stuff. Worse luck. *sob sob*

Everything said and done, spare a thought for the monogamous chap among the brothers, dear gals. Until now he thought of himself as the cat’s whiskers, the Devoted Husband to his Devoted Wife. But now poor fellow finds himself holding the shorter end of the stick, the sister psychologist having put him under the microscope and come up with unflattering conclusions. “Prisoners to an idealized image of a man of duty” is the verdict. From now on all those in the know-how will point at the (rare) Monogamous Man and sigh with sympathy at his “lack of suppleness.” The non-Monogamous Men and their proud womenfolk will whisper among themselves,

“There goes the poor sod, the Monogamous Man, the one whose father was physically or morally absent … during his childhood.”

Which Devoted Wife is going to like that my dear sisters?? I can imagine her shedding profuse tears unmindful that it would wash away her carefully applied make-up because her man lacked what it takes to ‘strengthen’ their marriage. “You don’t have a mistress!!” she will say petulantly and when the Darling Husband, the much maligned Monogamous Man tries to make himself scarce behind the ever useful newspaper of the day at this onslaught, the Devoted Wife, breaking into uncontrollable sobs at her predicament and the callousness on his part in neglecting to do the right thing by her, will add for good measure, “You don’t love me any more!!” making the DH aka MM feel a Worm of the Worst Order. In all probability he will be ordered by the DW to go find one and ensconce her in some secret place as ‘proof of love’ before he can enter her good books again.

‘Shail, you are a Blabber Blogger and you have been blabbing away to glory for pretty long now while we have on our part been Patience Personified. Hurry up woman, we don’t have all day! We have kids to see to, cooking to do, office work piling up…. and most importantly, other blogs to read and comment. Not to mention our own blogs to write! You beguile us, with cries of ‘all ye sisters of mine’ and promise us ‘liberating’ feelings. But pray WHERE is that promised ‘liberating’ feeling you assured us was coming, you silly woman??! You have spewed forth One Thousand Two Hundred Thirty Seven words of pure drivel without nary a glimpse of liberation anywhere in sight as yet!’ grumble disgruntled voices. I hear you gals and I say, Patience!! We are finally there, all ready to be liberated courtesy our sister psychologist.

The brothers need ‘breathing space’ says she to us. What do you mean they could have got an apartment with more carpet area?? What do you mean you like fresh air too?? I like the free open spaces too, for that matter. But this is not about us, remember?? This is about the Darling Husbands and their need for breathing freely. If they don’t, they will go blue in the face and conk out. Now we cannot have that, can we, Devoted Wives that we are??! Besides the learned woman who needs her head examined has conducted the study tells us “infidelity is ‘essential’ (Now who is that who said ‘My Foot!!’?? No disorder in the ranks please!) to the “psychic functioning” of certain men who are still very much in love” And isn’t life all about the ‘psychic functioning’ of man running on well-oiled wheels??!! How could you think otherwise??!! So now that we know what life is about let us see how we can feel ‘liberated’ in our airless cubby holes.

All we have to do is accept…. (OMG What an uproar! What do you mean why the word ‘accept’?? What is the objection you have to the word ‘accept’?? It is a nice English word that means…. What do you mean we sisters are always the ones being asked to ‘accept’?? What do you mean how about asking men to ‘accept’ something for a change?? Hell, ladies, do you want to enjoy the tingle of liberation or not??!!! I thought I was the harbinger of good news!! I am baffled and hurt by your reactions!!) Okay, let me start once again, when women (so says the all-knowing psychologist) accept the “pact of fidelity is not natural but cultural” for the man (Now don’t interrupt with cries of ‘Why not for the women??!’) who is still very much in love (with you the wifey, not the woman he trotted off to rendezvous with secretly) it can be a “very liberating” for women.

Well, that’s it sisters mine. I have done my duty and spread the word. Now if some of you feel they want to throw red bricks, in appreciation of course, at a particular sister psychologist and need someone to lead them, please…. Hell, no. I will send you messages privately. We don’t want the brothers to know. I have this sneaking suspicion, illogical though it may seem, that the brothers are not going to like our gesture of appreciation one wee bit and might even sabotage it. So shhh…. Not a word to them.

Response in jest (or is it?? …your guess is as good as mine ) to this.

I dug holes in the backyard

buried tiny chunks of me

and

over them planted shrubs

for you to see

Some parts are now missing

I am not whole

but

you would never know

of the hollow

for

the green leaves

the pretty flowers

will hold you in their spell

while I weep…

- Shail Mohan (Jan 2010)

While a major part of the world is all atwitter about the brand New Year about to dawn and are ready to kick start the same with lists of resolutions over which they have probably labored a lot, a list they intend sticking to the whole year through but are worried about their ability to do so since the track record for the previous years aren’t too good, I sit relaxed and secure in the knowledge that I will not, unlike them, break any resolutions. Oh no Siree I definitely will not.

Does that sound too smug a statement?? Overconfident perhaps, may be a tad on the pompous side?? But then breaking anything half way through is definitely not my style! Did you really think I was the sort?? Is this what you folks think about good old moi?? That I discard resolutions by the wayside?? Tch tch tch.. I am made of sterner stuff. Catch me breaking any New Year resolutions! I dare you Sirs and Madams.

I know a lot of people want to know the secret behind this excellent quality of resoluteness of mine, this track record I hold of not ever having broken a New Year resolution, though I am guessing a lot of you already know what’s coming. It is quite simple actually. I just don’t make any New Year resolutions. Okay, okay, I guess I deserve those bricks being thrown at me.

I remember reading something long back and being mighty impressed. I wrote it out to stick on my wall during my student days. It read: “Today is the first day of the rest of my life!” It is something which has remained with me since. I believe it totally. If I have to start off on something, I don’t wait for any particular day, any shubh (auspicious) divas (day), any day of importance or even the New Year. Whatever I want to do is begun on the very day I take the decision. For, today is after all the first day of the rest of my life! This suits the lazy moi to perfection.

Yet I know a lot of you out there aren’t like the lazy moi and have their to-do lists for the coming year. Here’s wishing you all success in adhering to your resolutions of the year! The New Year with all its attendant glamour gaiety and joy is now at our doorstep, just a few hours away, bringing in its wake a new decade as well.

A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YOU!

May all your wishes come true in 2010

And….

May you wish for that

which makes you genuinely happy

and none else unhappy!

– a 55 word story

“Show me your lunch-box!” the mother-in-law demanded.

She obediently showed the small-sized rotis, the sparse vegetables.

“Three??!” she hissed spitefully, taking one out, throwing it to the dog.

At noon, her co-workers shared from their lunch-boxes.

Her eyes overflowed at their kindness, remembering with sadness, the unkind grandmother of the baby growing in her womb.

*******     *******     *******

This is a fictionalized 55- word version of a real life incident that I came across a few years back. The lady was a well educated  ‘working’ woman. Her lunch box used to be inspected daily by her mother-in-law before she left for work, for anything ‘extra’ she might be taking for lunch. She was allowed to take only 2 measly rotis with a little dry vegetable preparation. She was pregnant at the time I knew her. Not even the fact that the woman carried her grandchild seemed to make any difference to the old lady.

It certainly was not as if they could not afford a well balanced diet. Far from it, they were a well to do middle-class family. Perhaps the mother- in-law did not want her son’s hard earned money ‘squandered’ on her daughter-in-law. Of course it goes without saying that the old lady expected the daughter-in-law to bring home the money she earned as salary from her job outside and also do bhartr seva and mother-in-law seva.

Now don’t ask me what the husband was doing while all this was going on, his wife being overworked, not being allowed to eat enough to fill her stomach and his unborn child being deprived of valuable and necessary nutrition. In such cases they all do the same thing, sing ‘Jai ho’ to Mommy Dearest for carrying them for ten tough months (as if girl children weren’t born in a similar manner!!) and bringing them up with so much love (love?? WHAT love would that be when you make another human suffer??), conveniently forgetting by doing a perfect impersonation of a horse wearing blinkers, that that was exactly what his wife was trying to do . What they don’t see is not happening. Period.

What about the lady herself, an educated earning member of the family who silently goes through this humiliation, ill-treatment meted out to her?? Can’t she speak up for herself, the hordes ask in amazement, in obvious disdain. Why cannot she apprise her husband of the facts (as if he would help her!)?? Doesn’t she care about her unborn child?? Yeah, doesn’t she, indeed?!! Of course ideally she should maul out the eyes of speak up to those treating her thus. But the hordes who ask, are discounting one important factor, a tiny factor seemingly insignificant, which escapes their attention.

Most of these women have been brought up to believe that suffering silently somehow elevates them to the position of the ultimate woman. Now who doesn’t want to be the coveted ‘ultimate woman’ especially when you have been brainwashed into thinking that is nirvana, a goal that has been set out for them by everyone including parents??! She has been taught that the ideal woman has to take things lying down to earn the love and respect of her husband and his family. So unless the parents (= father AND mother) of girls dare look society in the eye and make it wilt and teach their daughters some self respect, how will she speak up against such injustice?? She doesn’t even know she is allowed to speak up!

Of course while they are at it, parents also have to teach their sons a few things as well, that women have NOT been created (by whoever does these things) for the express purpose of serving the man and his family, that life is about give and take, that women are thinking feeling humans like him, only biologically different. The practicals of these lessons start right in a man’s home by learning to respect his own mother and sister, treat them as persons, individuals, not as maids or housekeepers to him, till another one comes along to fill the post and the degree of In-Law is conferred on them, allowing them all to turn on the new entrant.

I can see some questions trembling on certain lips. Aren’t their mothers-in-law ill-treated by their daughters-in-law?? Of course there are. There are those who ill-treat their own parents too!! There is a tiny difference between the two forms though and that bothers me. When an older woman is ill-treated the society as a whole condemns it, but in the case of a young woman society gives its tacit approval, she is asked to accept things, adjust, change herself and ‘suffer whatever it takes’ to keep things going. This indifference of society and the sacrifice asked of a young woman, may I add a sacrifice asked of her unnecessarily and that which benefits NONE, even compromises the children, is indeed disturbing.

A cool night. The Bikaner Express from Kochuveli, speeding along assigned tracks to its destination, is nearing Mangalore. Most all are asleep. Hmmm… maybe not all. Inside A1 coach, on seat number 4, a conversation is afoot

Nokia N-70: Pssssst…

She: (sleepily) Yeah what is it??

Nokia N-70: (whispers with due consideration for the time) It’s them.

She: (still sleepily) Them??

Nokia N-70: (rolls eyes) Who else?? Your Service Providers, the Airtel people of course.

She: (partially awake now) Airtel?? What do they want at this unearthly hour??!! (plaintively) Don’t tell me they have started sending messages about Hello Tunes before the rooster has even had the time to crow! I bloody don’t want any of those damn Hello Tunes! (buries head under pillow but realizing its been issued by Indian Railways decides against it)

Nokia N-70: (chuckles)

She: (annoyed) What are you chuckling for?? What do I need any Hello Tunes for?? Those calling me can very well listen to the plain and simple ringing tone. Yessir, they very well can. (gnashes teeth) Tell them, the Airtellers in no uncertain terms they can put those Hello Tunes where the m…..

Nokia N-70 (rolls eyes at the drama) They just want to welcome you. Atithi devo bhava and all that don’t you know… You have just entered the state of Karnataka.Tada!

She: (shamefaced at the unwarranted reaction) Ohh well…

Nokia N-70: Besides they want to tell you that calls are cheaper while you ‘roam’!

She: Ohh ok. The guys only want me to go yakkety-yak while on the move so they can fill their coffers. But anyways, bung them a thanks from me (goes back to sleep without much ado)

It is a lovely day. Breakfast has been served and consumed. The Bikaner Express with single-minded devotion to duty is still running along assigned tracks towards destination.

Nokia N-70: Psssst…

She: (looks up from her book) What??

Nokia N-70: Its them again.

She: What now??

Nokia N-70: The Airtel guys are welcoming you to Goa.

She: (in good humor) Pretty nifty on their feet! Jolly decent of them, don’t you think, welcoming the throng moving hither and thither??!! ….And ‘roaming’ is still cheaper I suppose??! (laughs heartily at her poor joke)

Nokia N-70: (remembering the drama early in the morn rolls eyes and remains silent)

Some time after leaving Mudgaon behind, with the Bikaner Express continuing to run on tracks assigned with the clearly defined goal of reaching destination on time….

Nokia N-70: Psssst…

She: (still in good humor) Oh hullo! Is it another welcome?? My my!! They do lay out the red carpet now, don’t they?? (thinks warmly about the guys and gals back at Airtel)

Nokia N-70: No. I just wanted to tell you I cannot connect to your bally Service Providers, the Airtel people. They have disappeared off the scene, without a trace.

She: (philosophically) No one is perfect. Airtel too has its moments of wanting to shut itself away from the crowds I guess.

Nokia N-70: (rolls eyes yet again and mutters under breath) Loony to the core, if you ask me!

She: (turns questioningly) You said something??

Nokia N-70: (with butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-mouth look) Me??? Oh, I just said ‘Yes of course!’

She: (smiles indulgently in reply and having decided to watch a movie, takes out her laptop)

A couple of hours later….

She: No messages for me?? No calls too….. That’s strange!

Nokia N-70: (unhappily) Sorry, still ‘no range’! Airtel is playing hookey.

She: What do you mean ‘no range’?? It’s been so long now!! I just finished watching a whole movie, Sleepless in Seattle.

Nokia N-70: (miffed) Not my fault you know. Besides I warned you early on. There was a brief flicker from them a while back, they even welcomed you to Maharashtra, but ‘poof’ they disappeared again.

She: (not paying attention) WTH!!!! I am in the middle of nowhere, marooned. OMG! I can’t reach anyone! No one can reach me. I want to make a call. OMG I am expecting a call too. I am also waiting to receive some messages. OMG OMG OMG!!

Nokia N-70: (chuckles at the entertainment got free of cost)

She: (in annoyance) What the heck are you smirking for??

Nokia N-70: (now totally amused) You wanna read more messages about Hello Tunes?? (chortles) Or maybe you wanna read those unwanted ads!? Remember there was one wanting you to buy Rajasthani marbles?? Hahahaha…

She: (does her Ice-Queen act, freezing Nokia N-70 with one icy look) I do get messages other than ones offering Hello Tunes for your information or ads for Rajasthani marbles.

There is a chill in the air along with the silence and it is not because the A/C attendant of the coach has changed the temperature settings for the compartment. After a few hundred times of She checking Nokia N-70 to know whether Airtel is back from playing truant…..

Nokia N-70: (in distant tones, since the earlier freezing stare rankled) You don’t have to keep punching me every second you know. You heard your fellow passenger say you won’t get services of Airtel till you reach Panvel. (adds as an afterthought) Maybe you should opt for some other Service Provider, like Vodafone or BSNL or….

She: (sighs) Ok ok, I was only looking at the time and by the way, I don’t want to change service providers.

Nokia N-70: (indifferently) Suit yourself! (adds sarcastically) I bet you don’t have a watch to know the time of the day and that’s why you punch me! (gives martyred look)

She: (spiritedly) So what?? That’s in your roster of duties, telling me the time!! As a matter of fact, I don’t have a watch. So there! (stops short of sticking her tongue out at Nokia N-70 as it is after all her life-line that connects her to the world besides letting her listen to her favorite songs. She punches a few more buttons and loses herself to Jagjit Singh’s mesmerizing voice singing ‘Aankhon mein yuun ansoon’)

A short while later, as the train nears Panvel…

Nokia N-70: (frostily, as the previous exchange still rankled) Pssst…

She: (a trifle annoyed at being disturbed while listening to one of her favorite songs by Rafi, ’Ek haseen shaam ko dil mera kho gaya’) Yeah what??

Nokia N-70: (still in frosty tones) Your service providers, the Airtel people are back in action.

She: (overjoyed at the news, forgets all animosity and hugs Nokia N-70) Ohh I am so happy. Any messages for me??

Nokia N-70: (drawls) Oh yeah. Airtel welcomes you to Mumbai.(snickers)

She: What do you mean ‘Airtel welcomes you to Mumbai’??!!! They welcomed me to Maharashtra a while back. Wasn’t that enough??! They have to welcome me to Mumbai too?? Isn’t Mumbai part of Maharashtra??!! Anyways… I don’t want to hear about any more welcomes. Tell me of other messages.

Nokia N-70: Yeah there are some more, a few missed call alerts and couple of messages from Yahoo.

She: Now you tell me! You better get your priorities right. Grrrrr… As if Airtel’s welcome is what I had been on the lookout for!

Nokia N-70: (smiles secretively at having got its own back)

She: (quickly scanning through messages and punching replies) And don’t think I did not notice the sly grin.

As the Bikaner Express nears Vapi, well past one in the morning….

Nokia N-70: Pssst…

She: (wearily and sleepily) Don’t tell me, let me guess. It’s another of those welcomes. Right??!

Nokia N-70: (chuckles) Yeppers. You are welcomed to Gujarat.

She: Thank God, I am not going any further! So no more waking me up! (goes back to sleep peacefully)

They alight at Vadodara and are warmly welcomed. A few days later, they are on the move again to Rajkot in Surat Intercity and on the way….

Nokia N-70: Hey…

She: What??

Nokia N-70: (puzzled) You are welcomed again to Gujarat.

She: (equally puzzled) But I have been in Gujarat for quite some weeks now.

Nokia N-70: What do I know about these things??! Humans!! I am just the messenger or display board rather. Airtel sends and I show you the message. (in mock serious tones) Maybe you have been talking less and they want to remind you to talk some more. Their message says ‘Roaming is now cheaper at blah blah blah rates….’ (laughs mischievously)

She: (going off on a different track unlike the train she is on, which is still on track assigned) Ahh so they think! How the heck can ‘roaming’ be cheaper?? How much do they think tickets cost??!! I shelled out quite a bit to the porter too, not to mention the clothes I bought…. the only thing I found cheap was the yummy pakodas with green chilly I gorged at Vadodara station and…..

Nokia N-70: (rolls eyes): Airtel means the call chargers while roaming, not the tickets or clothes or pakodas (with or without green chillies) or whatever….

She: (coming back on track) Oh well…

A few days later on the way back from Rajkot on the Surat Intercity….

Nokia N-70: Hey….

She: (all eager) Is there a message from Yahoo??

Nokia N-70: (shortly) No! (rolls eyes) You are welcomed once again to Gujarat.

She: (plaintively) But I AM in Gujarat. I never stepped out of the state! Don’t you think this is carrying Athiti devo bhava a little too far??

Nokia N-70: (sniggers) May be they at Airtel lovvve you so much that they don’t tire of sending you welcomes.

She: (glares)

Two weeks later in the middle of the night, while sleeping peacefully at sister’s house at Vadodara…..

Nokia N-70: Psssst…

She: (continues sleeping, gently snoring)

Nokia N-70: Hey you….

She: (is rudely woken up and is totally disoriented) Uhh eh ehh?? What, what??

Nokia N-70: It’s them again. The Airtel gang.

She: (rudely) Tell them to bloody go away!

Nokia N-70: (enjoying this greatly) Oh we can’t do that you know. Remember you need them. They connect you to the world. Without them you’d be marooned in the middle of nowhere otherwise…

She: (impatiently) Put a sock in it, will you??

Nokia N-70: (with self righteousness) Oh no siree, I am a conscientious cell phone. I cannot rest until I have done my duty…

She: (resignedly) Ok ok. What do they want now?? If it is more Hello tunes… someone is going to get murdered tonight. (looks with murderous intentions at Nokia N-70)

Nokia N-70: (cheerfully) Don’t look at me I am just a messenger boy, I only….

She: (exasperatedly) Heyyyyy!!!!!

Nokia N-70: (prudently puts a sock in it)

She: Out with the message, NOW! (grumbles under breath about machines who don’t need sleep keeping humans who need their forty winks awake)

Nokia N-70: Oh well, they have just welcomed you to Gujarat again, (snickers) twenty days after you entered the state. (snickers some more)

She: WHAT??!!! But I am returning tomorrow!! (by now wide awake) OMG, the whole thing is going to start all over again!! Oh no! (punches pillow a few times)

Nokia N-70: (wisely withdraws from scene muttering) At least my keys won’t be punched any more to know what the time is now that She has been gifted a watch by her sis! (raises eyes heavenward) Thank God for small mercies!!

I have a few strands of gray hair, masquerading as coppery red due to the henna I apply, adorning my head. Of course like conscientious children the world over, the sons senior and junior have done their overzealous bit and contributed unstintingly towards turning a few among the glossy black strands to gray, especially during the years they hadn’t fully evolved into humans and resembled more, in actions and appearance, our ancestors who lived on trees. The times when they were at the doorstep of adulthood all set to turn into perfect gentlemen and were involved in valiantly fighting and subduing a monster called Board Exams might also have given its fair share. But being a Cool Mom (in their own words) who lost her cool (and that too periodically) and screamed and threw tantrums only when at the end of her tether on finding for the umpteenth time that their rooms resembled a pig sty (though I seriously doubt if Lord of Emsworth would ever agree to let the Empress of Blandings stay in their rooms) my personal opinion is that their contribution came mainly via the stress I suffered each time I entered their rooms.

I can say with certainty that the gray hair I sport, though disguised as red, is not all their doing. Contributors to the cause came in the form of well-meaning (my foot!) people (also called relatives) who hover around and take inordinate pride in their well meant (my foot!) nosiness guaranteed to turn a perfect crown of black to white. There is also this invisible but all-powerful entity spoken of in hushed tones of reverence called ‘Society’ that everyone seems to be in awe of and dare not displease, that tries every which way at its disposal to not only gray your glossy black hair but also your very self with its shackles. Besides the above mentioned there has been one other person who also threw her hat in the ring in trying (and succeeding) to turn a couple of my lustrous black hair to gray. And that someone was Vasanthi, my maid.

Vasanthi came to work for me almost a year back when I moved house. She is a thin dark complexioned pretty mother of two in her early thirties. Vasanthi gets up very early in the morning to finish the work in her own house and get her children ready for school. When there is no water in the municipal tap, she has to draw water from the near by well for the needs of those in her household. As with most men, her husband too falls in the ‘help-if/when-in-the-mood’ category and so is not someone she can depend upon. On most days, by the time she leaves her house for work, she is already drained out. In spite of good intentions she is unable to do justice to the work she does in the two houses in the colony. Though she ends up doing shoddy work, I haven’t the heart to chastise her much to the chagrin of the Lord and Master.

Her work may be careless most times, yet I admire Vasanthi for her fortitude and spirit which many a middle class woman, either in the avatar of home-maker or career woman, lacks. She has a no-nonsense approach to the financial responsibilities in her home. There is a clear cut ‘your’ money and ‘my’ money between her and her husband Murugan. She takes care of some of the expenditures and insists that her husband put in his share or spend on other things. I know many educated and earning women who don’t have a say over their own earnings! And ‘my money’ is thought to be a dirty word even if it is money given to the woman by her parents! Of course I am not discounting those career women who don’t contribute to the family kitty but think their earnings belong only to themselves.

True to type as most belonging to the lower strata of society, Vasanthi has a sack full of superstitions and beliefs at her disposal from which abundance she draws regularly, to enlighten me. Though I am a true blood Mallu, to Vasanthi I am, if at all, an ignorant Mallu, one who has to be educated about the essence of Mallu-hood. She was genuinely doubtful whether I was a Hindu because, in her own words, “….I have never seen you going to the temple!” Of course it is beyond her simple mind to understand that people can exist without going to temples. It is another matter that she spends only about an hour and a half in my house and is totally unaware of what I am doing the rest of the time. Still, she has it engraved in her heart that this Chechi with her hair cut short and in salwar-kurtas and skirts and tees and irreverent attitude to accepted norms cannot be all Mallu or know enough about Mallu traditions.

One day she asked me innocently, ‘Don’t you feel sad and cry when Sir goes off to work every week??’ all because the Lord and Master at the time was working in a different city and used to leave every Monday morning after spending the weekend at home. I rolled my eyes and told her if I had done the crying bit for every time the L & M left home, the Indian subcontinent would have been submerged under six feet of water long back what with the Indian Army sending its officers in every which direction and the families not getting accommodation promptly enough. I doubt though that she got the joke because she looked at me uncomprehendingly. What do I tell her about children and their education which is of prime importance to us, enough to make us stay in different cities?? When I apprised L & M about Vasanthi’s question to me, he burst out laughing and in his characteristic way teased me that my stock had hit rock bottom as far as Vasanthi was concerned, as I was not the ideal bhaarya (wife) who shed copious tears (or at least had a suitably sad face) each time her Lord and Master left house for more than twenty-four hours!

None of these things had the power to turn even a couple of my glossy black hair gray. What did that was something else altogether and it happened this way.

Vasanthi joined me for work on the 24^th of July. On the 24^th of August I asked her whether she wanted me to give her salary on that day or if she wanted to wait till 1^st of September and take home the salary of the extra eight days added to it, so that I coud pay her on the 1^st of every month from then on. She said she would like to have it the same day. Fine, I told her, I would pay her every 24^th as per her wish. I gave her the amount due and everything seemed fine. Come 1^st of August, while leaving after her work I heard her call me,

“Chechiiii…”

I was at my usual place, which in case you didn’t know is in front of my laptop. I got up to see what she wanted as she usually leaves with a ‘Jnaan ponu Chechi’ (I am leaving).

“Chechi will you give me my salary??” she asked on seeing me.

I blinked in confusion. My mind was still back in my blog-world and hadn’t I given her the salary eight days back??

“Do you want a loan or something??” I asked preparing to go in and get the money as I was in a hurry to get back to my blogs.

“No Chechi, my salary…”

“Salary?? But you said every 24^th! That’s why I gave it to you on 24^th. Do you want me to give you the share of the last eight days??” I asked her.

“No Chechi, not eight days. Today is 1^st of the month, isn’t it?? So I want my salary.”

Now I know there are a lot of people who think I am a duffer. Unfortunately I had not been one of them up till then. But at that point I was sorely tempted to join the Shail is a Duffer movement as I just couldn’t get it. I blinked again.

“But I gave you your salary eight days back!”

“Today is 1^st of the month Chechi. Everyone gets their salary on 1^st of the month…” she said in her enlightening way.

“I asked you whether you wanted the money on the 1^{st of} every month. But you said every 24^th would do fine. If you want I can give you the share of the eight days and make it 1^st of every month from now on.” I said gathering my wits and deciding that the thought of joining the S is a D movement was too pessimistic an outlook. Of course I could sort this one out.

“Everyone gets salary on 1^st of the month Chechi” she repeated like some bally parrot.

Having decided not to join the S is a D movement, I now took it upon myself with optimism, to impart some basic math to Vasanthi.

“Look here Vasanthi, how many days from 24^th of last month to 24^th of this month??

“Thirty” came the response.

“And I paid your salary for thirty days. Right, so far??”

She nodded her head in assent.

“How many days are there from 24^th of last month to the 1^st of this month??” I asked.

“Eight days” she replied.

“Then how can you ask me for salary of a whole month??!!!”

There! Who could beat such clear cut logic presented so well??

“But Chechi, hereabouts everyone gets their salary on 1^st of the month” she said.

Aaaaaargh. I nearly flipped the lid. I had not failed to notice the ‘hereabouts.’ She was alluding in her oblique way that this alien-Mallu was ignorant of local customs, of salaries paid on 1^st of every month. Aaaaaaaaargh and double, triple aaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!. The S is a D movement seemed infinitely more appealing to me once again. And yet, I decided to give it one last try.

“Okay Vasanthi, listen to this. Suppose the Sir here joins a company on the 1^st of a month, do they give him salary on that day itself, or after he has done a month’s work??”

“After a month’s work…”

Oh thank God, we seemed to be on the right track.

“Then why are you asking me salary for work you have not done?? You have only done 8 days work!”

There, try and get out of that one. Hehehehe…

“But everyone gets salary on 1^st Chechi….” she said going right back to her parrot mode.

I wanted to scream and pull out my hair in frustration. With iron self control I saved myself from making myself bald. But in the process two of my glossy black hair had started off on the irreversible path of graying. There was nothing I could do. Sob sob. To prevent further damage, I told Vasanthi to get her husband and that I’d explain matters to Murugan. To be on the safe side and protect the rest of my hair, I paid Vasanthi the amount due for the eight days she had worked for me and started paying her on the 1^st of every month from then on. I bet Vasanthi is happy and my crowning glory is safe for the time being. Phew!

Don’t try and fit me into ready-made molds

I don’t come in pre-conceived folds

Did I not tell you I was ‘different’??

Look closely, I am a mutant.

- Shail Mohan (2008)

- a 55 word story

“Go inside”

“Why??”

“You can read in your room”

“I want to sit here and read. It’s cooler here…”

“Some boys are loitering outside.”

“So??”

“They are staring at you…”

“So??”

She didn’t see the slap coming.

“Go inside, now!”

She went in quietly.

She learnt: When boys ogled her, it was somehow her fault.

****** ******* ******

The above is a 55-word expression of one aspect of a commonly heard phrase,

“Chee keri podi akathu!”

These words are used by fathers, brothers and especially mothers to the girls of the household. It means ‘go inside’ said in the most obnoxious manner. The first word Chee itself is said with such force that it can, all by itself, start a cyclone. If you have some free time and were to collect data from Mallu movies you will find that THE phrase used by almost all writers with such regularity to be said to the character who plays the sister (mostly sister, sometimes it can be the wife or daughter) of the hero, whether she is a dumb and silent one or a sensible one who dares open her mouth to voice her opinion, is this:

“Chee, keri podi akathu!”

One can almost guess the exact moment some character is going to mouth it to the hapless girl/woman. I am sure other regions have their own versions of what to say to put the girl child/woman in her place pronto.

I guess what is shown in the movies is but a reflection of what is happening for ‘real’ in the society, for you do hear the phrase being used frequently and in the same obnoxious tones in daily life too, differences in class or education not with standing. Just goes to show where most still think, the place of a girl-child/woman barring a lucky few is: ‘akathu’ (inside)!!

A related post:

Dumb Dialogues