One rainy morning when Rama woke up, she saw
the time was past 5:30 a.m. too late
she muttered and rushed to the toilet. She had just thirty minutes to get her
daughter's lunch box packed, she would then wake her up and get her ready for
school. The bus comes at 7:00 but her daughter will easily take an hour to get
ready, or 45 minutes in the least!
It was still dark outside, she could hear
the sputter of falling rain from the terrace. Louder hollowed sputter coming
from the corrugated sheet laid over the ducts of her apartment, muted drops
from the terrace floor and the gazebo roof. She often gets morose on rainy days
with a false sense of sadness jabbing her heart. She did not have time to
meditate over any of that now, she quickly thought up two items to be packed in
her daughter's breakfast and lunch box.
She set the water to boil in the electric kettle,
put some rice to cook in a pan for her husband's lunch to be packed post haste,
after her daughter left for school. She completely forgot to drink the hot
water while she packed her daughters lunch and breakfast and readied the milk
for her. Only at six she realised she had to have her medicine, which she
quickly popped with the warm water.
"Wake up baby," Rama cajoled her
seven year old. It takes her ten minutes to bring her daughter out of slumber.
Rama likes to keep this time stress free for her daughter so she lets her have
that time... Finally it was all done. Daughter dressed and ready, standing at
the bus stop with Rama, waiting for the bus at 7. The bus came promptly on time
and Rama rushed home to pack the next set of boxes and to prepare breakfast for
her husband. She swiftly completed this task too. By 7:30 her husband had left
for work.
She was feeling tired now, she did not
want to go for her walk anymore. She rested for a few minutes and soon was
getting ready herself. Rama had to leave for work at 8:30 and she did not have
much time, her maid was here now, she could let her handle the kitchen and
focus on getting ready. She was in her business attire having, her breakfast
soon, and then she left for work.
Rama was responsible for managing an
important profile in a multinational. As she drove to work, her phone started
ringing. And Rama transformed. She was now all business and logic. Who would
tell that she had been slogging since 5:30 a.m. in the morning? She was full of
energy, as if this was the only thing she ever did. Get on calls and sort out
issues of the company's internal and external customers.
Somewhat stuck by the self-realisation of
this transformation, Rama mused... She had it all, a great family, a great husband,
a beautiful, adorable bundle of joy, her daughter and a job of her dream, but
she was always at the edge! Most of the time she felt like a juggler, juggling between… the home and family of
her dream and the job of her dream. It did not seem to gel, the home
and the work... She knew she had two identities... They call it split personality she reminded herself. I am not split
personality. I am just split between choices. I wish I could have some
simplicity in managing the two worlds. As rain drops frosted her windscreen Rama
realised how her heart was caving in, that sputter of rain always brought that
edginess in her! Maybe a cup of coffee would make her feel better.
Soon she was at the office, the moment she
reached her seat, her manager met her and she could sense that all was not
well. She instinctively knew it was the project she was working on. She just
wanted it out of her way and that is what she did. It was almost as good as her
best. Her manager offered, “But you are a go-getter Rama, you don't get
contented, you are always bring more on the table, perfection, clarity,
insight, whatever it is! Don't lose that skill of yours, he advised.”
Finally at her much needed coffee break Rama
met up with her friend, 'her emotional
sand bag at work'. She narrated the irony of her life. I am not
complaining, I am not being impractical or unreasonable, she said, It seems no
one ever asks me if I am tired or need some assistance. Why am I taken so
for granted at home, when people at home know how big a responsibility I handle
at work? Why is no one ready to take up small daily responsibilities?
For me... house no home… comes first... and then comes work... Work
comes first for me when at work... How
can I handle two firsts? I don't seem to relax for a minute. I will
complete my day here and will be off to work, to put dinner on the table on
time. It is not as if someone will complain if I did not, but no one will help
enough, unless I am sick that is! Why is it assumed that home is my
responsibility alone and my work is only my problem!
“But Rama you know what a gorgeous life
you have... You have a fantastic home, family everything, just the way someone
would dream...” Said her friend... Her voice trailed off... Knowing
where she was headed. The water ahead was murky... She knew this is how far she
could get at rationalising, idle words spooned into her mouth by the people
around her... Is that all? Good home, good family and no real respect? Her friend
wondered. “We are the pillar of support for our families,” she muttered
finally...
It was still drizzling outside, she could
hear the gentle tap, tap, tap of water falling on the roof of the office
cafeteria, frosting on the window panes around her, a million drops of water
bulging and trailing down from those transparent glass sheets… Yes, said Rama,
pillar-less ourselves we support the society, hopeless ourselves we provide
hope to everyone, hapless ourselves we spread happiness in the world. Am I a
corpse in Rigor Mortis, mistaken for a pillar of support? Don't I deserve to be
helped, empathised with, cared for and indulged? Rama knew she had spoken too much, it was just her heart and mind
whining under stress. She was happy
to do all that she did...
She thought of the little being who
brought smile on her face every moment. How she melts at the very sight of her
daughter, that cherubic smile, those innocent idle talks. She thought of love
that brought her and her husband together. The little things they do as a
family, those holidays that they regale themselves with. She wanted it all and
would go an extra mile to nurture her home. Could she ask for more? This is the
life dunked and nurtured in love.
What she said was not so much for herself,
as it was from the realisation that the entire feminine mass around her had
been fed the same dialogues of contentedness as she had been. They were the cut copy paste of each other.
Children of discontent, contempt... discouraged, downtrodden, dominated,
disheartened. Yet they had the heart to build happiness around them in every
heart they touched!
How
should she ask for that equity, which the entire society, the entire
civilisation, the entire human history conspired against her, not to give
her? No, Rama was not
unhappy now, she was glad she had sapped out her discontent... she was now
quite content once again.... It was a rainy day, it was her nature… Rama
gathered melancholy in her heart, at the sound of sputtering raindrops,
mistaking it for her own tears of sadness.
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