And what a miss!

    It was a clear blue sky with little hints of white clouds fluttering as if God had let loose some of his air balloons in the sky. Sana had been peeping over the balcony for long now, religiously drowned in some deep thoughts for it was not normal for a woman to ignore the repeated, desperate attempts of the alarm made by the shrieking whistle of the pressure cooker, only to be casually, carelessly, given no attention to. But oh, thanks to the aroma that had suddenly filled the air… ‘Oh my Goshhh!!!’ Sana was jolted back to reality as she hurriedly followed the aroma back to the kitchen gas stove and turned off the knob of the stove. But she was late. ‘Poor Rice’, she lamented in her typical ‘Sana’ way. For those of you happening to meet Sana for the first time, you ought to know and understand that Sana is gifted...she has a special talent. Unlike you and me who would mourn over the burned, wasted rice for some respectable hours in our mind to compensate the loss, Sana never wasted more than a brief ten seconds of her time in a thing as trivial as this. What is gone is gone and cannot be back, and so went the rice in the dustbin along with all the disturbing thoughts of ‘How-can-you-be-so-careless-Sana.’ Simple. Just the way you click your fingers, the worry was clicked aside, and an order was placed for a veg pizza for two, with a bottle of coke to go along with. With the dinner arrangements done, the stunning Sana was back to the balcony, continuing with her thinking process.

    ‘Ding-Dong’, dared the door bell .

     ‘Come on in Mr. Saad, the door is open.’ Sana cried not wishing to change her posture. 

    ‘Hey Sana! How was your day? ‘happily chirped Mr. Saad, placing his bag casually on the sofa, loosening his tie, oblivious to his wife’s mood. 

    Sana was quiet. Mr. Saad sensed it. Sana was quiet. Quiet?

     ‘I can smell something wrong Sana, what happened?’ 

     ‘Damn the air freshener! Couldn’t wave off the stupid smell. Sorry, the rice burnt yet again today.’ Sana admitted. 

    ‘It isn’t the rice baby, I can smell you upset.’ Questioned a worried Saad. 

    ‘Hmmmm.’ Sana turned towards the balcony. 

    ‘What’s wrong Sana?’ No response. 

    Sana continued looking out from her balcony. Saad moved over to the girl he was so much in love with. He slowly held her from behind and placing back a strand of her hair behind her ear, he softly murmured, ‘It must have been a very long day my dear. You must be tired. Come, I’ll make you a cup of tea.’ You must have noticed a queer thing in husbands…they always know how to get hold of the right nerve and make you melt, that is, only if they wish to. Sana turned to look at her candid-sweet super man, raised her eyes to meet his gaze, and without a hint of a smile she said, ‘ I have been thinking Mr. Saad.’ 

    If you’ve ever closely known a woman, you’ll be able to relate to Saad’s ‘no-not-again!’ expression, for the word ‘T-H-I-N-K-I-N-G’ holds a very strong meaning when it comes from a woman. Fancy, a lady in thought. Bang-on! You got it right. 

    ‘It has been quite some time to our marriage, and..’, Sana paused. 

    ‘And?’ 

     ‘And I have been looking for a moment to tell this to you since a week now..’ 

    ’Cut the drama Sana, SPEAK IT OUT!’ snorted Saad. 

    ‘Okay. You are busy with your new project I understand, but I wish to see the Taj Mahal, so I’ll go with my friends.’ Sana finally accepted what she had been thinking the whole day. 

    Saad sighed, and made himself fall over to the sofa, partly exhausted with the day’s work, partly relieved for there was absolutely nothing to worry at all. 

    ‘Just this much and look at your face Sana! You had been worrying the whole day just because you want to see the Taj, God you amaze me! Go girl, enjoy! ‘

     There was an instant glitter on Sana’s face just like the road glitters when the street light is switched on. She shrieked in joy, ran to the sofa to hug her so-very-caring husband. 

    ‘Oh wait! You have your meeting tomorrow in Mumbai Sana, remember? You’ve a flight to catch, isn’t it?’ Saad suddenly recalled the meeting Sana had told about two weeks ago. 

    ‘Ah that stupid flight? It’s day after tomorrow’, informed Sana, casually. 

    So it was all planned and reservations were done. The next morning, Sana was off to Agra to see her dream palace, have a day out with friends and visit that distant aunt of hers who gifted her mother-in law an ‘awefully amazing’ dinner set on her wedding anniversary(apparently whose one of the plates was broken by Saad, but Saad’s mom is not aware of it, thanks to Sana). 

    Back home from her trip, she had a long, long talk with Mr Saad, telling him of how majestic the Taj was, and how whatever that you read in books serves no justice to the glory the monument portrays. Mr. Saad kept listening and staring at her wife’s round beaming eyes that held so many promises of love, the eyes which he’ll make sure will never see even a single teardrop till the time he is alive. 

    ‘Get some sleep now dear one’, said Saad, ‘You’ve a flight to catch tomorrow’. 

     ‘Oh that reminds me! Let me get a print out of the ticket.’ 

    Sana logged on to her macbook and connected it to the printer. Mr . Saad was now watching the news on the television, the news was about a woman robbed off her money in broad day light in Mumbai . 

    ‘Mumbai is not a safe place now’, remarked Saad. 

    ‘True that Mr Saad, I won’t go to Mumbai’. Sana had a very sorry look planted on her face. 

    ‘What? What now Sana? Your face tells me you have another story to tell.’ 

    ‘Do you remember Mr Saad, you broke that green beautiful plate of the dinner set mom loves, and I never told mom about it. ‘ 

    ‘Yes, so?’ revolted Saad. 

    ‘Well, just wanted to remind you of it. We are humans, no? We make mistakes, but we cover it up.’

     ‘Sana, I want to see your flight tickets, right away’. 

    Sana was silent. 

     ‘Sana?’ 

     ‘I missed the flight.'

    'You missed the flight???!!’ 

    ‘I thougth 6th was tomorrow, but unfortunately, 6th is today. I am so sorry.’ 

    ‘Sanaaaaaa!!!!!!!!’ Mr Saad pulled a sacred Sana to his arms and kissed lightly on her forehead. ‘You’ll always be so careless?’ Sana smiled. ‘Yes, because I know you are there to take care of me.’ And so, another day passed smiling by,while Sana and Saad slept soundly togther. Love is not counting faults, but completing each other. Here’s praying that may love continue winning hearts and changing minds, for the love winning, and change coming is inevitable!

The species called 'Mother-in-laws'

    A fine Sunday it was, fine indeed. The alarm went right. I left the bed in time, queerly without any want to bury my head in the pillow for another five lame minutes. I woke up to see my face in the mirror the first thing in the morning. Perfect. With a tune on my lips and a sway in my strides, I stepped the kitchen. ‘What a beautiful day!’ I said to myself. ‘What a beautiful me!’Perfect was the word I used for it was one of those lucky days when the milk I put to boil on heat did not overflow the container and ruin the kitchen slab, the poha I prepared was every flattened grain of rice soft and aloof with of course just the amount of salt I dream I could have in my cooked wonders-turned-blunders. With breakfast all ready, I checked in the bedroom again to find my year-and-a-half old little angel still sleeping. Oh…to see her sleep is one of those ‘God you exist’ moments in my life!  When she’s awake, I’m supposed to be a superhuman. I’m not only a mother, I’m objects unimaginable…a scooter she wishes to drive, a horse she wishes to ride, a doll she wishes to pull the hair of, a chair she wishes to sit on,  a train whose koo-chhukchhuk she wishes to hear, a boomerang she once saw in a cartoon,  the list is endless…and yes, she is year-and-a-half! Back to the living room and I saw my husband…a couch potato with eyes glued to the idiot box… morning 8 a.m., mind you.  When I was in college, we used to have husband talks among friends.  The picture of my husband used to be framed as one reclining on a chair, with legs pulled up on the table, grim face, heavy moustaches, spectacles reaching the tip of the nose, careful eyes engrossed on a newspaper article  say of some XYZ not being a good minister, and me walking up to him with a tea cup. Television effect I guess.  Back to reality and here was my husband, with no moustache absolutely, watching shin-chan oblivious to who topped that year’s elections, smiling in glory. The tea cup imagination was the only thing real. 

 Ding-Dong. The door bell.

 ‘Sana, please see who’s on the door’, requested Mr.Saad in a chirpy tone.

 ‘God Mr. Saad! You’re just five steps to the door, and in any case I’ve a face mask on. I’m not going anywhere.’ I shouted back from my room.  

   Ding-Dong.  

  ‘Mr. Saad?’ 

    They say in a marriage, the first year the husband speaks and the wife listens. The second and the next year, the wife speaks and the husband listens. Fourth year onwards, both of them speak and the neighbours listen. Which year into marriage I’m in, you’ll get to know shortly. 

    Ding-Dong. 

  ‘TEND TO THE DOOR, will you Mr. Saad?!’ 

   Ding-Dong.The fourth time. 

  ‘Enough’, I thought. With teeth gritting and fists clenched, I went storming out of the room, shooting disgusting looks on an imaginary Mr. Saad only to find him opening the door.                

‘Good Morning Mumma!’ Cried Mr Saad with an almost child-like glee. ‘Look who’s here to join us today!’ 

I am dead sure I caught a glimpse of him looking at me mockingly with the corner of his eyes behind those Tag-Heuer frames of his. 

 ‘Good Morning Mumma’, I greeted carefully with a tone having just the perfect blend of excitement, smile and grace, an art that I’ve mastered now.  If you are to ask me what I felt like that moment, I’d describe myself a cat who just had a visitor, a tigress. I gave her a smile as broad as Arjun Rampal’s shoulders, and had a hug from her in return as brief as one liners of geography quizzes in school.               

    ‘What took you so long to open the door, beta?’ Before Mr Saad could cook up his reply, her gaze turned on me. ‘What is this on your face Sana? It smells awful!’  

     ‘See! I told you Mr. Saad! Mumma, I told him a dozen times I don’t need these beauty remedies, but he’s always complaining. He bought me this yesterday. I had no intentions of putting it on, but it would have had been a waste of money if I simply threw it in the dustbin. Anyway, yes, it smells awful. I’ll just wash it off Mumma. You please make yourself comfortable.’ And off to the washroom I went, beaming all over on account of the wonderful lie I had just built up. I could hear distant, faint voices mostly of Mumma, and Mr Saad saying something as meek as..’Yes Mumma’.  ‘Sana you Rock!’ I mused to myself. 'Serves you right for those corner glances Mr. Saad! The next time you think of trying that on me, you’ll think again!’  

    On the breakfast table that day, mother was the one who spoke the most. That was obvious. Since it was the day of the tigress, the cat was just to stay a safe distance behind. I was busy making my daughter eat the poha. I, at times, marvel at my own patience. Babies can be pretty nasty, like that day my daughter’s super intelligent mind devised a new plan…feeding the poha to the fish in the fish tank. I made a point in my mind to ask Mr. Saad to change the fish tank water once Mumma leaves.  The perfect day’s imperfectness had just begun with a door-bell.  

 ‘She is so clever!’ remarked Mr. Saad.   

  ‘Shall I call the newspapers?’ I mumbled under my breath.  

     ‘Did you say something, Sana?’ asked Mumma.  

    ‘No, nothing. Nothing absolutely.’ I replied with a smile.   

     Poor me. The Indian constitution must now mention a clause with the freedom of speech and expressions…exercise this freedom at your own risk when your mother-in-law is around. My next thirty minutes on the dining table passed listening to Mumma’s updates on her rival neighbour’s new bahu who had apparently done a ‘heinous’ crime by choosing not to wear heavy gold to a cousin’s engagement party and had caught the attention of all eyes sixty year old. 

    ‘What nerves!’ I thought. ‘My kind. I’ll make sure to be friends with her the next time I see her’, I planned. Thanks Heaven no thought-reading device has been invented as yet. If Mumma had one, I’m sure she would have had made me file a divorce.              

      It was around 3 p.m., I remember. Mumma was sleeping. Mr. Saad was busy with his laptop. I was watching my daughter play when suddenly it happened.  She coughed and I realized the gem she was playing with was nowhere to be seen. ‘Good Heavens! This can’t be true!’ I feared as I patted on her back with my entire being shivering with the thought that my little child had tried to swallow that gem and it was now somewhere stuck in her throat.  I panicked as she coughed again holding on to me with tears in her eyes, raising her arms, trying to catch breath. I cried out loud, ‘MUMMA!! MUMMA!! MR SAAD!!’ 

     She came running to me, my mother-in-law. I was so panic-stricken I could hardly explain what had just happened. I tried, but words didn’t seem to fall out of my mouth. And there I stood, open mouthed, helpless.  Mumma understood. She caught hold of her grandchild, patted her at the back, patted her again, as I cried, cried and prayed. Mr. Saad was the one who called up the doctor. How senseless! He too seemed very helpless. In all this confusion, Mumma was the one who didn’t lose her mind. She made every possible effort she could think of, be it holding her upside down, patting on her back, putting a finger in her mouth trying to get back the gem. What worked I’m not sure, but in seconds that seemed like ages, I had my daughter all fine in my arms, crying. I was crying too. I know you’d say it was careless of me, but trust me, this was impossible!  I had no idea that big a gem could reach as small a throat as my daughter’s, really.  

      With the rescue operation over and mother-daughter united, it was time for some serious exchange of thank-yous. I hugged Mumma tighter than I ever have hugged Mr. Saad.  And this time, she hugged me back tightly! ‘Love you Mumma’, I said. ‘Love you too Sana.’  

      Dropping my mother-in-law back home was always a pleasure trip for me. But this evening was different. I was sitting by her side, almost holding her hands in the car, wanting her to stay back with us. I wondered what would have happened had mother not been there with us. I dread to think of it. Later in my life someday I know I’ll realize that this saas-bahu offs and ons will go on, but deep within me, I’ll always love her, and she’ll love me back just the way she hugged me back.  

     On our way back home, Mr. Saad smiled. ‘I have a crazy woman living with me. She’ll love but she won’t stop complaining!’  ‘The rest was fine, Mr. Saad, but who did u say crazy? Dare you say Sana!’ I replied, teasingly. And again started a whole new episode of  - ‘Sana you’re the sweetest!’ ‘Mr. Saad you’re a liar!’  - until we were home. Some things never change. Somethings are just so wonderful that they don’t need a change, isn’t it??!! :)