The primarily female-dominated household arises at the crack of dawn and begins its race against time at a frenetic pace. Normal people, I am told, get up when the sun ascends to a fairly decent point in the sky. This household wakes up when the sun has barely crawled out of its slumber. The reason is simple – they are paranoid about being late.
That’s my family that I am talking about – a bunch of women with idiosyncrasies galore, sharp minds, and untiring spirits. We rule the roost and live life on our terms, which at times can be quite chaotic and weird.
We are a mixed bunch, ranging from the compulsively obsessed maniac to the laidback lass who can effectively galvanize into action when required. We are petrified of felines and canines, but can bravely weather storms with aplomb. We may not be able to sing or dance much, but we do manage to dance through life with a song in our hearts.
As in every household, the epicenter of most action happens to be the kitchen. Interesting things happen here. This happens to be the place where several hands, minds, and hearts operate. Things in the kitchen are pretty well organised – but often containers and boxes and bottles tend to skip and hop around a little each time a different hand operates. So unlike most other households where the chili, oil and salt containers have remained in the same place for the last 100 years, our kitchen shelves have seen more action. And that, my dear friends, triggers the conflict of the day.
“ Where are the red chillis?” the officiating chef calls out.
“It’s there,” the knowledgeable one responds from the bedroom.
“It’s not here,” the piqued chef’s decibel level rises a little.
“Check,” comes the response. “It’s on the left side of the top shelf – the container with a pink lid”.
“IT’S NOT HERE !” the chef bellows.
The lady in question soon arrives at the scene of action and the elusive container with a yellow lid is found – daintily perched on the right side of the mentioned shelf.
“You said it has a pink lid!”
“It did have a pink lid. Someone changed it!”
The person who did it is meanwhile browsing through reels about exotic holiday destinations and lamenting over how the next vacation is four long months away.
While the women enjoy cooking and recreating traditional family recipes of yore, they are watchful of their waistlines. It’s hard to have an hourglass figure when you have to rush through the day with no time to hit the gym or prepare those six small meals that diet gurus talk about. So we grumble exactly three times a day and a few more times on days when we need to wear sarees or dress up for an occasion.
Mirrors aren’t very kind – at least not the one at my place. It does nothing to allay our anxiety about the extra inches that may have gathered after the chocolate cake and the yummy goodies we tucked into the previous week.
Vigorous sessions of yoga and exercises begin soon after but are stalled when a sudden twist causes one to double in pain and walk around half-bent for the next few days. It’s tough being a woman, I tell you. You are always caught in some kind of a vicious circle – try to stay off sweets and you feel yourself almost fainting. You will then be groping desperately in the refrigerator for a chocolate and finally get a new lease of life. You then tell yourself philosophically that staying alive is more important than getting slim. And besides, after a certain age, women do put on weight and will never succeed in shedding it. The philosophy lasts for a few days before the grumbling and ranting begin again. Sigh! Life is tough.
Oh and did I mention the ever dwindling wardrobe that needs to be replenished every three months?
Clothes have this very strange way of diminishing in size, changing colours, and often, staying so much in the range of our vision, that we get quite fed up of seeing them after a while. Imagine, wearing the same dress for half a year. Change is the only constant truth of life. So change must happen. We don’t splurge of course, like a lot of people do. A dress needs to be sufficiently alluring to draw us towards it. The colour, the fabric, the style, its price, and images of the half-depleted wardrobe are the factors that determine the final acquisition of the dress in question. We may just decide to toss in a few more clothes and perhaps a pair or two of shoes. After all, shopping doesn’t happen every day and everywhere.
While we take on the world with aplomb, we do have our moments of being damsels in distress. We are petrified of tackling snags related to things that run on electricity. A couple of minor catastrophes have happened hence the fear. The one who has benefited the most is the local electrician. He walks in with a twinkle in his eye, examines the afflicted object very gravely, shakes his head, rattles off some solution, and finally quotes a price that has us gasping. We have learned the hard way, to do a few things ourselves and to call in other, more noble electricians.
We are women, no less. We work hard, and we play too, though not as hard. We have had our share of challenges, but we have learned to face them head-on – and we believe in the divine force that guards the universe. To every woman around me, I quote these lines from Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata :
You are a child of the universe
No less than the trees and the stars.
You have a right to be here
And whether or not it is clear to you,
No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
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