Married life has made me not just see a new world but two worlds.
Friday night
Fridays, I keep awake unwilling to shut my eyes partly because I have want to see "Desperate Housewives" or some equally sod soap, or otherwise cos of the fact I can’t make up my mind on whether or not I would be going to mom’s place. Mom’s place. Ah. Be the little girl you always were. The pattings, why? even the scoldings are great (now). Gone are the days when a reprimand would mean a full fledged tear-filled drama climaxing with abuses to my bro for being their most favorite. Yeah, they. I don’t mean mom alone, dad is equally worse when coming to spoiling him. Friday nights, I would crave to have some seriously super hot homemade curry. Hell, yeah I cook. But homemade to me means mom-made.
The flip side is that I don’t wanna leave home or him either. Yeah, I can hear you say –"Oh, aren’t feeling like leaving the kiddo home?" now, enough and get married to know what I mean! I really really don’t feel like leaving him all by himself though he has been on his own for some happy eight years. I know, he would be even more happy to be on his own for a couple of days more dodging the nag "Manoj, you haven’t made your bed yet.. bah". Skeptical of whether I would miss him or miss yelling at him, I continue to think.
Saturday morning
I bite my teeth. Kiss him goodbye and take the bus. After a long journey amongst arguing passengers, steely smell that makes your teeth tickle, I reach there. Juno runs to greet me and she’s visibly frenzied! It’s hard to tell who’s the most excited amongst us ;-) Quality time with mom, dad. Altercations with bro. Selfless siestas. I’m brought back to my senses, as the Chicken gravy with soy sauce and spring onions – Mom’s guarded secret – tinges my tongue.
Ah, what a way to celebrate a weekend!
Sunday night
I go beak home, tearing myself away from the house I have grown in for 25 long years.
Monday morning
The whizz of my Mobile’s alarm alerts me to another week of running ahead. At a maddening pace, I run ahead to pick a volakku of ponni arisi, wash it, measure water to it and set the rice cooker. It doesn’t end there. I whiz off to the Refrigerator to decide on the pick of the day – ah today, It will be drumstick. Pop goes the paruppu, veggies, chilli powder, dhania powder and a measure of water.
20 mins later.
I tap my Kitchen clock to stop the alarm. Squeeze out the soaked tamarind to the curry and bring it to boil. Crackle spices, curry leaves and asafoetida - top it off to bring out the aroma. Rush up with my bath. Get dressed. Pack his lunch. And breathe.
Hmmmmmpfh.
Now, on the other side his Highness crawls out of the bed and rushes at the shower. Picks up the ironed clothes, buttons up his cuff, settles for the belt. A knight in shining armor eh?
Finally, he makes a pounce at the breakfast.
He eyes me. I have seen this look before. Gleamy and foxy. And yes, that quirky smile along side his lips. He finally takes the plunge and retorts– "My mom’s shambhar is even more spicier"
Bah. Is anyone hearing?
I’m wishing for Friday already.
