Discovering my Superhero
"Not Sambhar again. Oh, Amma but why? You always keep making things that only Chettan likes. Why are you so partial? ". I wailed at my mother that day. Yes, she had prepared a dish that even I liked, but at the nasty moment, all that I cared about was how she kept making Sambhar thrice a week. Right, so we are South Indians, but hey, there is a limit to this right? Four different dishes were prepared and kept in front of my brother and me. It consisted of dishes that we mutually and individually liked. My mother smiled silently and kept mum. I continued to wail, about how she had all the time but did nothing. She chose to ignore those tears as she walked ahead to do her other chores.
~
The scene flashed before my eye. It was crystal clear on my mind as I paced from one end of the kitchen to the other. I was 16 and my Grandmother had decided that it was high time I learned to manage the kitchen on my own. In her own words to my mother, "2 years and this girl will just zoom away. Then you will marry her off. How is she going to keep her in-laws happy?" (Yes, it's a funny way of thinking. ) My mother was standing there at a corner with a magazine in her hand, giving me instruction every now and then.
"boil the lentils", "add water", "no the flame shouldn't be so high", "chop the onion" , "did you wash it? ", "Who will add salt?", 'did you take the tomato?", "throw the waste", "Don't press it so hard", "Why are you not paying attention to the things I tell you? ". Now, being the very short tempered person I am, seeing my mother just standing her, handing me all the instruction, but not doing a thing, was irritating me. I was loosing my temper, and I must admit, running around a kitchen on a hot and humid, Indian summer morning is no paradise. After running around for a little over forty-five minutes, and after over a hundred instructions from my mom, I placed the dish on the table, and collapsed into the chair and screamed in frustration. I was sweating so bad that you could have easily thought that I had just stood under the shower with my clothes on. My mother, came quietly from the kitchen and sat down next to me. She smiled gently and took my hand, and asked me, " Now do you understand what I go through every single day, to feed you and your brother? What you like, he doesn't like, and what he likes, you don't. Have I ever starved you both? Have I gone on all day screaming like this?". She smoothly brushed my hair, and walked away to the remaining chores left.
And I? I just sat there, bedazzled at the superhero that just walked away. Hoping, and praying that one day, I would be atleast be a fraction of who and what she was.
The scene flashed before my eye. It was crystal clear on my mind as I paced from one end of the kitchen to the other. I was 16 and my Grandmother had decided that it was high time I learned to manage the kitchen on my own. In her own words to my mother, "2 years and this girl will just zoom away. Then you will marry her off. How is she going to keep her in-laws happy?" (Yes, it's a funny way of thinking. ) My mother was standing there at a corner with a magazine in her hand, giving me instruction every now and then.
"boil the lentils", "add water", "no the flame shouldn't be so high", "chop the onion" , "did you wash it? ", "Who will add salt?", 'did you take the tomato?", "throw the waste", "Don't press it so hard", "Why are you not paying attention to the things I tell you? ". Now, being the very short tempered person I am, seeing my mother just standing her, handing me all the instruction, but not doing a thing, was irritating me. I was loosing my temper, and I must admit, running around a kitchen on a hot and humid, Indian summer morning is no paradise. After running around for a little over forty-five minutes, and after over a hundred instructions from my mom, I placed the dish on the table, and collapsed into the chair and screamed in frustration. I was sweating so bad that you could have easily thought that I had just stood under the shower with my clothes on. My mother, came quietly from the kitchen and sat down next to me. She smiled gently and took my hand, and asked me, " Now do you understand what I go through every single day, to feed you and your brother? What you like, he doesn't like, and what he likes, you don't. Have I ever starved you both? Have I gone on all day screaming like this?". She smoothly brushed my hair, and walked away to the remaining chores left.
And I? I just sat there, bedazzled at the superhero that just walked away. Hoping, and praying that one day, I would be atleast be a fraction of who and what she was.
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