Anand Niwas, 1980.
I find myself seated at the breakfast table in our modest one- bedroom- converted- to -two bedroom flat.
Clang. ….went the saucer, flying across the kitchen. It was time to cower. Why, you ask? It was mum, in one of her ‘moods’. She seemed to be having them more often nowadays. If the vessel lids or saucers began flying, then it meant that one of us had gone too far. This time dad had pushed her buttons. ‘MALA, this Dosa is in the shape of Australia!’ That was it. ‘ Raviiiiii, I told you I haven’t been sleeping at all. I have been wide awake for threeeeeee days. I heard you snoring and pinched your nose. You didn’t flinch.’
Dad giggled, nudged me and chuckled,’ Rohit my boy, what does mum do all day at home? She doesn’t get tired so how will she sleep?’. I giggled. That was it. Mom latched onto me! ‘ Rohit, you are just 10 years old. You should not interfere when adults speak!’
She went on muttering under her breath. Something about ‘ the change’ now that she was growing older. Well, mom had ‘ changed’ alright. Another vessel went clanging to the floor. Sambhar splashed all over the place.
I remember just the other day I had told mum that her chin appeared to be sprouting a beard, just like dad’s beard. She launched her missile, ‘her slipper’, straight at my head. Bang on target.
Anand Niwas, 2020.
I find myself at the breakfast table. I had neatly laid out my wife’s favourite breakfast. Our fifteen year old daughter Nikki was helping me set the table. ‘ Go tell your grandma that breakfast is ready’, I said. My wife Anchal had had a terrible migraine and I was eager to help her out this morning. Mala, my mum, ambled to the table. We had moved back to Anand Niwas once my dad Ravi passed away. Mum had been unwilling to move in with us. We happily moved in with her as we were in another part of Mumbai and we’re unable to commute daily to be with her.
Mum sat at the table and saw the Dosas in the casserole. She smiled, wistfully. ‘200 rupees for your thoughts,’ I offered Mum.
She smiled. ‘I remember mornings like this at our home. I was going through something and no one understood me. Now our Anchal is going through the same thing’.
I gently held mum’s hand. That was awhile ago mum. Dad was being the macho man and I was following his lead. But I do know now, I understand what women endure. Right from teenage years to childbirth and menopause. You were going through ‘the change’ indeed. Our daughter Nikki schools me on everything. On how to be a gentleman in the real sense. I am sorry mum.’
Mum smiled- there shall be no flying saucers in Anand Niwas, henceforth. That is the best news, ever!
Picture credit: Unsplash: Mathilde Langevin.
