Mama's Boys

‘Ah he cant let go of his mom’s pallu- the umbilical chord wasn’t ever cut’

As the years progress and the mind blurs out details, no woman ever hazes out the memory of that irritant somewhere along their whole wedding process- where the mom in law showed you who IS the boss and directly challenged you ,the greatest War in mankind history gets launched once again!. For example, mine took place pretty upfront- 2 days after meeting –‘Aunty’, when the Lord & I exchanged rings. A sultry Delhi evening, a cramped, badly ventilated DDA flat and the meeting of 2 completely different cultures. My relatives- all Punju, mostly Delhiites, many businessmen- unhappy that true camaraderie would not happen since Damaadjee did not eat kukkad shukkad, his all Maddu ( ok ..Tamilian Iyengar Brahmins, if you please..) a little taken aback by the characteristic Punju loudness and the brashness. So our man 'rings' me as the Pandit asks him to and then proceeds to turn his back completely on me. Me in that ghastly ‘rani pink’ saree ( why the hell do they call us North Indians loud?), sweat streaming down and feeling completely out of control with mostly strangers- desperate for his confidence inspiring warmth, his tingling hug and those eyes which still ..sigh, DIDN’T GET ANY. The Lord needed to impress his and my relatives ( he continues to hold the trophy for 'Model Dammad' in the Chopra/ Kapoor khandaan) and then Amma decided it was time to go home and so off we got into the hired taxi waving a bye to everyone except of course me – I stood there gaping and seething. NOTHING? NOTHING! NOTHING …F@#$ing NOTHING.
I have never professed to be a low maintenance person- (high performers always take a lot of energy) and The Lord understands that very well NOW. But obviously the rosiness of the dating had not prepared him for the harshness of Real life. The downside of a completely ebullient personality is that the intensity of anger can be pretty vicious. As he dutifully dropped in the next day- he experienced temper for the first time in his life. (The Rangarajan family is like all the noble gases put together but the Lord is NEON, though mom professes I have, with my tantrums- managed to make him reactive). Honestly I wasn’t even interested in scaring him- I WANTED OUT...my parents begged me not to call it off (Eng, IIMC, good looking, small family, educated, .et al) but I was on a roll. So as he stared dumbfounded at me – first trying to figure out why he was still his Mama’s boy and then trying to quickly remedy it- how he could become his fiancée’s. Obviously, no clear instructions were offered ( Falling in love is always life's early lesson in learning to deal with ambiguity) and all frantic attempts felt flat. A precarious peace treaty ensued – rocked by the occasional erupts of violence usually triggered when the visits happened ( Have you noticed that they NEVER pick up the dinner plates when their Moms are around?) .

And then Ta happened- conceived on my 31st birthday in a fertility hospital in a petri dish- the fusion of a purrfect egg & sperm, he changed my life forever. The first 6 months were the adjustment period- I resented him- for making me fat, for changing my body forever, for making me feel like a milk machine, me sitting there every night awake and eyes burning- waiting for him to stop that annoying, shrill wailing so that I could pop him out of the balcony..My first baby is beautiful. He is kind, generous and understands me like no man ever did. Protects me physically as well as emotionally– doesn’t like me wearing anything short and skimpy –‘Meri mama ka shame shame kisi ko nahin dekhna chahiye’ , if tears swell in my eyes- he just sits with me and holds my hand till I feel better. His genes reflect my sense of empathy and his Dad’s sense of logic- many a time his rationale helps me to get a control over my anger or sadness. He is super protective about his sisters and loves to dance with me. He hugs me tight in the blanket these days- coz his Mom can freeze even in a mild winter. Just the suggestion of a ‘new mom' who will feed him chocolates everyday and not scold him- angers him. My eyes flaring up in irritation are sufficient to indicate looming danger ( The Lord still does not learn), he is ever be mindful of pleasing me. He amazes me with his agility to tune into emotions and his immense respect for anything living.

Now comes the crucial question that I have been contemplating for the last 2 years- will any woman ever be able to befriend him, to make his hurt better, to kiss him when he needs it, to smother him with love, to know what he likes to eat, to sing to him like I do, to tell him its OK to attack once in a while-especially when he is attacked, to change his sadness into happiness in a jiffy, to make him feel like the greatest gift to mankind- like I do?? Lord o Lord (no pun intended) –that is an impossible feat. My little baby who turns 4 in a few days has really become the handsomest boy in the whole world. As I urge him to stuff himself with another paratha coz his ‘bumpy’ is too small for him to attract any girlfriend and he dutifully tries but argues with me that it doesnt matter since he is going to marry me – I am so grateful for the invisible umbilical chord that will always exist. Coz he can never be anyone’s but his MAMA’s boy.

So Miss ‘Oh I know just exactly how to handle him’ wherever in the world you are right now – Ta’s Mama KNOWS BEST. The bugles are sounded -This is a warning issued with sufficient notice period.

Lost For Words..

I was spending my time in the doldrums
I was caught in the cauldron of hate
I felt persecuted and paralyzed
I thought that everything else would just wait
While you are wasting your time on your enemies
Engulfed in a fever of spite
Beyond your tunnel vision reality fades
Like shadows into the night

To martyr yourself to caution
Is not going to help at all
Because there'll be no safety in numbers
When the Right One walks out of the door

Can you see your days blighted by darkness?
Is it true you beat your fists on the floor?
Stuck in a world of isolation
While ivy grows over the door

So I open my door to my enemies
And I ask could we wipe the slate clean
But they tell me to please go fuck myself
You know you just can't win

(Pink Floyd- The Division Bell)

Gurgaon Condominium living is convenient and from what I gather, pretty aspirational too. ( It’s most liberating to be holed into 1000 sq ft houses, amidst a complete concrete jungle?) Basic necessities are taken care of, you can isolate yourself or choose to participate in all the insignificant social activities that take place. If you’re as lucky as I am, you may actually find a genuine friend. But for most – you could take me to court for this- its secure, mind free, sterile though a trifle expensive. However, for the last 7 months- the jungle has taken slightly more realistic dimensions- there are 5 monkeys that have taken over the complex.

TAKEN OVER. Scrounge for food in each of the 400+ flats’ kitchens, have learnt to slide open the doors from the outside, learnt to ignore the poisonous food laid out in an effort to trap them and lately after having declared to the world their own state of well being- have even reproduced, their snarling has acquired a completely new menacing message. So I waited for ‘them’ to do something- ( THEM… you know- them, the system, the people in authority, the President). Mr. Gupta, the president, is a geriatric man with babu ancestry and took action by sending a circular: ‘People are requested not to make eye contact with the monkeys, please keep a toy snake in your house and use it to scare monkeys when they come into your house’. So I timidly tried to explain to my 3 year old that she could not ‘make eye contact’- trying not to make her permanently scarred/scared of monkeys. ( This new age parenting - balancing approach is tricky & testing. )

So I took matters in my hand (occupational hazard) and one Saturday-marched to the tiny Condominium Association Office. I can assure you I let Guptajee have it- I have journalist friends I threatened, we will not pay maintenance- I said, you are all incompetent fools- I said, mere chote bachhe hain-kaat liya to- I said, will you repay me for the vase that they broke on their last visit-I said, Dad pulled his back while shooing away a monkey- I said. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. I said. Pretty Good , would you say? I had personal interest and also the conscience to know that I needed to help the old man, who feared the wrath of Maneka Gandhi. I took away the numbers of the relevant contact people in Wildlife Ministry , Forest Officials and marched home. Over a good drink with some friends that night, I narrated the incident. Will you support me – I asked? Yes Of Course. Damn Good-Bhavna they said. We admire you- they said, you have chosen not to comment from the sidelines. Good Work they said . We will shoo these monkeys out together. Its our safety. BTW- It gave me a huge sense of purpose, more meaning ( don’t laugh- I swear, it did-I am really anticipating that they will attack my children next). Monday morning- I misplaced the number. Work was damn busy that week. Then the economic meltdown happened. Monkey mania can take a back seat, my job is under threat here. Did I say ‘sense of purpose’?

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH- we say. Security we say. Fire the Damn politicians – we say. Light candles we say. United in love we say. Bomb the neighbors – we say. Carry out genocide – we say. Wipe them out – we say. The icons of India- we say. The incompetent should be fired- we say. Heads should roll we say. Held Hostages in our own country- we say. Hand over the guilty- we say. Politicians should be accountable- we say. Dont vote- we say. Don’t pay taxes – we say. We need a man of action – we say. Get Modi – we say. Some of the innocent will go with the perpetrators – we say. So WHAT – we say….

I cant face myself in the mirror anymore- the happy , cheery me is replaced by this incompetent, persecuted, paralysed , guilty, fearful, insecure, scared and angry person- but mostly full of derision & contempt. I shed tears some of sadness for the tragedy that this nation has witnessed- but mostly for me…for being the worst kind of citizen that this country has produced. For having the lowest self esteem that I have had for years. For not bothering to get my voter card made. For having a driving license without undergoing the test. For thinking that I contribute by working in a cushy job. For feeling that I cant make a difference. For telling my children that its better to become a Doctor rather than a soldier. For asking for accountability rather than being accountable. For never having taken an interest in the way that the political system runs in this country coz it wasn’t worth it. For thinking I am doing my bit by lighting the candle or contributing some miserly amount. For never having worked for social causes coz I was too busy wrapped up in my comfort zone. For still wondering how I can make a difference.

ENOUGH IS ENOUGH