I have decided to bestow upon my stooping shoulders, the
much coveted, ‘Multi Avatar Award, the MAA’. I believe, even though I hear no
cheering or claps for me yet, that I deserve this award. Maybe at the end of
this ranting, there would be a thundering round of applause for my quick
transformations.
My ‘oh so dependable’ cleaners have
been on leave since Holi, and the usually shunned chores have fallen into my
unwilling lap. Usually I run scared from the dusting-cleaning-mopping-washing
duties and get a temporary cleaner, willingly paying close to a month’s pay for
a week’s job. This year I decided to take the bull by the horns and face my
demons on my own. The truth be told, I couldn’t find a temporary help, even
though I was willing to empty out the coffers. So coming back to the point, it’s
been a week now, a long tedious week, that I have been zealously dusting,
vigorously wielding the zadu at the dust that dares to enter my house, bending
on my knees to the persistent dust that dares evade my trusty zadu and mopping the
unsuspecting bugger off the floor. As if this was not enough, the beds need to
be made, and however inviting the newly made bed may look, enticing me, asking
me to play truant to my chores, beckoning me with its softness, doing a Menaka
to my Vishwamitra, I have to strongly turn my back to it and advance towards
the bathroom, equipped with the bottle of Harpic and my other cleaning weapons that
are the arsenal of my cleaning lady avatar, to bravely fight the mould and
scum. Half an hour later, the battle won, I emerge with a triumphant smile and
a sweaty brow and take the troops to the kitchen. The first day I stood aghast
at the mountain of vessels that the cook had left in his wake. Do I even own so
many vessels? Did I order a meal for the entire building to be cooked chez moi?
I lift the lid of one of the vessels with apprehension, my mobile in hand,
thumb almost pressing the speed dial for my mom’s to ask her to not cook today,
possibly for a week, when I see a just about enough quantity of sabji staring
at me. So many vessels used to cook this dainty amount of food? Well, since I
did not want this task to fall in my lap too, I just shut up and picked up the
scrubber. Now I’m immune to the mountain of vessels and tackle them with
enviable speed.
Today, these routine tasks dealt
with, I get into the shower and emerge in my working woman avatar, quickly don
the working gear and head off to the office, fantasizing about a nice cup of
hot coffee and some time to myself resting my toosh on the comfy chair, maybe
swiveling it and staring out of the window. But reality hits hard. I stagger
into my office to see an irate hubby. Yes we work together. Our marital vows of
50-50 sharing of work load are unfortunately restricted to the office, the
household work slipped through the crevices when we were planning our future
together. And of course due to the biological potential that I have, the child
bearing and rearing too kind of ‘obviously’ became my domain, hence was born my
mommy avatar. I had this amazing brainwave when I was carrying my second
daughter. It would bring about a social revolution, and I am going to present this idea and try and
sell it to the Almighty when he calls me over, wherein the husband and the wife
both are blessed with this biological potential and it is simply a matter of
luck and high fertility that either one gets to carry the baby! Whoa, I can
already feel myself swept off by a tidal wave of ‘ayes’ from all the harried
mothers that I know. But I’m digressing, as I was saying before I flew off the
tangent to this lovely fantasy of mine, I stagger into my office to see an
irate hubby entertaining my clients, those very clients who I was supposed to
meet, I checked my watch, half an hour
back to discuss the house that I was designing for them. With a smile pasted on
my face and my fingers crossed, a mental apology to my parents who raised me to
be always truthful no matter what, I launch into a detailed description of the
traffic jam that delayed me. I could see that no one was taken in, and with a
sheepish smile pulled out the drawings of their dream house in my dream weaver
avatar. Midway through the discussions my phone beeped its daily ‘kid’s
pick-up’ alarm and with a leap and a bound I was out of the office, thrusting
the bemused clients and the drawings towards my better half ( I grumpily
question the half) and hurried into my mommy avatar.
Homeward bound with my chattering
magpies in the car, trying to make sense of two garbled accounts of the day
from two tired and hungry girls, both extremely excited to tell all and both
wanting to be the first to do it, I smartly turned up the volume to an ear blasting
level and let ‘anjaana a a a anjaani e e e’, or whatever crap was pouring out
from the radio, diffuse a potentially volatile situation. Believe you me, after
the day I had and the day that was facing me and the whole last week added to
it, I was in no position whatsoever to slip on my arbitrator avatar, a
diplomatic diffuser of fights. With a mental pat on my back at these bright
ideas that were helping me still retain the ‘bestest mumma’ title, I decided to
take the help of the TV, my Moriarty when it concerned the kids, to make lunchtime
a surprisingly peaceful event for me and a surprise treat for the girls. The
kids settled in for a nap, I donned my washer woman avatar and attacked the
pile of laundry hiding its grubby self in the basket. Leaving the washer dryer
to do its tumbling, having an hour on hand before the folding and ironing would
start, I slipped into my gardener avatar and tackled the pots on my balcony.
Soon a cry of ‘mumma’ brought out my favourite, the mommy avatar, and I was
hugging my little one, who has this lovely habit, that I hope she never gets
out of, of hugging me tight, with arms and legs, like a koala and showering my
face with kisses as soon as she wakes up from her nap. The elder one, not
wanting to be left out of the hug, joined in with gusto and we all tumbled on
the bed. I thank God for such precious moments of the day that help me keep my
sanity and set my priorities straight. My girls provide me with surprise hugs
all day long, I would be in the middle of one of my tasks when, with a
synchronized shout of ‘one-two-three’ they would launch themselves at me and
enclose me in a ‘tighty huggy to recharge mumma’. I count myself amongst the
luckiest of beings. The mommy duties of supervising homework, chatting about
the day, listening to grievances and trying not to advise( a phenomenally
difficult task) et al dealt with I nudged them out of the door for some outdoor
play just as the phone tinkled. Premonition, intuition, hunch, omen, call it
what you want, I knew it was my runaway cleaner. Bingo! ‘Bhabhi, avi gayo
chhun, kaal savaarey aavish’…….too overcome to say anything, the news not
penetrating through my thankful brain, I just mumbled a ‘hunh’ and hung up.
Slowly the news sunk in, the day seemed to brighten though it was close to
sunset, the warmth spread into my shocked body and I punched the air…I did a
jig…i danced around the hall with the phone clutched in my hands like a mike…I
sang a song…I guess I got full fledged into my batty avatar.
So now I leave it to you to decide
if I get the award or not.....Yippee…Oh thank you for giving me this award…I share
this award with all the hardworking and under acknowledged MAAs…
