If you are a born harridan, people have trouble believing in
your hidden goodness. Despite my pint sized structure, I am known to be quite a
terror. It’s true I belong to what you call the no-nonsense category. I cannot deny that if you present me with a spade, I may end up calling it a spade. Ordinarily if you say "Oh what a beautiful morning!!" I am likely to give you cold stares. And when you grab my arm excitedly and say “It’s nice no” I would usually say no. You
can also say with some certainty that I flare up quickly at the sight of
stupidity. And you may call me caustic, once you and I have had a few drinks together. I'm called khadoos (obnoxious) - at work, by the biological family and the family
acquired by marriage.
One day, after an in-depth analysis, I decided to show the world what a golden person lay dormant beneath the biting
exterior. Here’s what transpired on that dark day of my life when I
tried to reveal my innate goodness.
(Everything in red brackets are my thought crimes).
Abbreviations: Mother in law (MIL), Daughter in law (DIL)
Morning:
I decided to start the day of my goodness earlier than my
usual 8:00 am. Firstly, it was a struggle to get up with the chirping birds and secondly to start chirping myself, especially when the first sight that presented itself was the MIL.
Me, trying to be enthusiastic: "Morning Mummy!"
MIL: "Oh what a beautiful morning!!! It was today. But how would you know? You are not a morning person."
Conversations between MILs and DILs are what workshops on ‘International
Negotiation Strategies: Theory and Practice’ made of. They constitute layered
dialogues, varied intentions, hidden agendas, cultural clashes, secret missions,
blocs and alliances. Sometimes diplomacy and tact are displayed, other times
strongly worded protests are exchanged and when nothing works, war and
destruction follow. So when the not-a-morning-person bullet was fired at me, I was ready to fire my ammo. (This is the most morning I can wake up MIL. Besides your
son never wakes up before noon. What do you have to say to that. Nothing, I am
sure). However, remembering my resolve, I bite my tongue and decide to choke on the tea instead.
The next target of my chirping personality is the comatose husband:
“Good morning sleepyhead. Here’s a cup of hottt ginger
tea for you.” I coo into his ears, hair dripping with water and smile filled with
rare love. No response. During the second coo, a few drops of water accidentally
trickle into his ears and he shows some sign of life. Scratching his ear, he wakes up with a sudden jerk almost knocking the tea out of my hand.
(Jerk!)
The better half stares at me with bloodshot eyes as if seeing a ghost. He then proceeds to look in shock at my hand as
if it is holding a cup of steaming poison. Immediately, he closes his eyes to
the nightmare that I am, and drops dead.
Unfazed, I take my pleasant and cheerful self to
work. Usually, I get greatly annoyed because early in the morning, people gather around my cubicle, sitting on desks (and the lighter ones on arm-rests) giggling, while my garrulous neighbour talks authoritatively on clothes, fashion, make-up, film gossip or some such trivia. As I entered that day, smiles died mid-way on people’s lips and they started shuffling. However, I stopped them in their tracks and asked:
"So what plans for the weekend folks!
Who’s watching the latest Salman Khan flick eh?" A few uneasy murmurs is all I get by way of an answer. Disappointed, but not over yet, I tell myself.
Afternoon:
Carrying forward my Goodwill Mission, I decide to call the
MIL who complains that I never call her during the day or answer her calls:
Me: "Hello mummy! Hope I didn’t catch you sleeping."
MIL (in a heavy voice): "As a matter of fact I was." (That’s the reason you feel so tired. Maybe some work
once in a while will keep the bounce in your step.)
Me: "Oh I’m so sorry. I just called to say I have got you
a new handbag. Didn’t you need one?"
MIL: "I thought you don’t have a minute to breathe at work.
So are they giving you the golden handshake?"
Me, ignoring the sarcasm: "There was a sale that I went to,
with my colleagues. SO." (So, just be grateful, say thank you and go back to your winks.)
MIL coldly: "I don’t buy stuff from sale." (This is not a local sale you snob, it’s THE MANGO sale. Haa! what would you know? Mango for you and your relatives is what you eat all
day).
Me: "It’s not just any sale Maa, its the Mango sale!"
MIL, false smile in voice: "I find Mango stuff very teeny
bopper beta, but yes if you’ve got something for me, I am sure it is befitting
my age." (Finally, you’ve decided to act your age!! Praise be to the
Lord.)
Me: "You’ll love it mummy! Its bright mustard with polka
dots."
MIL, in an ice cold voice: "Sure. Do keep the bill."
Me: "I will. Promise. But you can’t exchange stuff bought on sale."
MIL disconnects the phone.
Ignoring the MIL, I decide to unleash my sparkling nature on my colleagues. It's time for the team meeting. I usually take this as a forum
to whine and complain that I am overburdened and nobody works as hard as I do. This meeting is presided over by
my Lady Boss who is generally wise and pleasant, but suffers from Lethologica
(a condition where she frequently forgets words and names).
Anyway, I sit still throughout the meeting without cutting
anyone, swallowing criticism that rises like a wave within me, and even
smile on occasions. During the closing comments, I just add:
“Guys, all of us have our plates full, there are
deadlines to meet and there are last minute requests. Let’s accept it - this is the nature of our job, and we must
not complain. But what we can do better is look for our synergies…so we are more productive and
happy as a team. For starters, I am around. In case anyone needs me for anything,
you just needa shout.”
I will not dwell on the nature of the shocked silence in
the room. I just notice that in their sockets, Lady Boss’ eyes become twice
their size (which is quite a lot and can instill fear in the bravest of brave). Later, taking advantage of my speech, she gives me some last minute work that's not mine. But a lively ‘Sure Boss!’ is all she gets out of me. Around evening, Lady Boss calls me on my extension line.
“What's your name again?”
“Ananya”
“Oh ya. Yes then. Come into my room. We need to have a …what
do you call it…?”
"Cup of tea?" I say helpfully.
"No no," she says irritably.
"Chat?"
“Ya Ya…we need to have a chat. Come.”
'We need to have a chat' is usually uttered by the boss during performance appraisal
or during instances of gross bad behavior on my part. I am filled with dread. As
I enter her cabin, she says,
“Close that thing after you.” I shut the door.
And fearfully take the edge of the seat.
She clears her throat and says, “Look, I don’t say that all
is well with our …mmmm...team. I am sure you would more than agree that there
is a lot of scope for….what do you call it?
"Improvement?" I pitch in.
"Yes yes that’s what I mean.....See you have to understand none of us is perfect and …we
all bend under. What do you call it yaa?"
"What?"
"That thing you cook in?"
"Frying Pan?"
"No No…arey that thing that whistles."
"Cooker?"
"Yes yes cooker. But why was I talking about cooker?"
"No idea boss."
"Think think."
"Ok.... Oh, you said we all bend under the cooker."
"No silly, pressure.”
The MIL was right. Looked like the handshake, whatever the colour,
would follow. She wipes her brow and continues uncomfortably,
“I have noticed
that you have been under a lot of…you know what, righttt?? And maybe it has
started taking a toll on.... you know...your being well. We often don’t realize the early ---- whatever. You know those things like ‘calm before the storm, like..like… coherence before insanity'. So all I am telling you is to take it easy. Take
a couple days off, go someplace and you will become normal again.”
I thank her for her concern and head to my seat in a haze. The day seemed like going downhill and night was fast approaching.
Night:
The husband stretched diagonally across the bed, watching the news and yelling:
“I am hungreeee. Does anyone in this house care?” (Ask your
mother, you lout)
Me: "Yes sweetpea!
Getting you din din" (creative expression for dinner)…
Husband: “Pass me the ketchup,…KETCHUPPP.” (Learn to say please, you
pig.)
Me: "Why, sure! I should have got it earlier."
Husband: “Hand me a bottle of water?” (I keep the bottle on the table with a noticeable thud).
“This water is not cold. It’s 45 degrees outside for God’s sake. You
want me to die of thirst or what.” (Now that’s a possibility I hadn’t
worked out!)
Post dinner:
Husband: “Hit me with a cigarette, will you?” (I can hit
you with many other things – boulders for instance)
Me: "Here's the ciggy, the ashtray and how about a nightcap that I can fix you?!
Later, Husband: “Come out of the bathroom…I need to use! Now NOW!” (Get
your bladder fixed once and for all, you miser. I will get my daddy to sponsor it).
Me: "Won’t be a moment dear!"
Finally at bed, as I get ready to score by insisting I have no
headache, the better half stares at the ceiling and says in a Eureka
moment:
“Wait. I know!!! You are having an affair aren’t you?!! You
CAN'T be so nice otherwise!”
I attempt to smother him with a pillow. I try for a good 5
minutes but the air supply just refuses to cut.
Anyway, both husband and wife survive to see the next
morning, by which time I have already resolved that it’s not worth deviating from
your true nature.
I miss Delhi. Its exquisite beauty in the winters, wrapped in fog. Throbbing with life and sweat
in the burning summers. Bursting at the seams during rains. The green of the city's affluent, the brown of the down-to-the-wire, and the yellow haze of everything in between (like the glow of DDA flats in the fading sun). The boorishness of its men, the pigeons on its window sills. I love it all. The city's characterless
character. Loosely moralled. With no respect for boundaries. Much like myself. Lacking in compunction. Standing tall, stuffed with pride, despite its failings. Yet, groveling time to time, to get what it wants. More like me. 
