“When you have a woman in your life, things organize themselves for you. Else, you have to organize them.” Recently, a friend had left Delhi making inroads to her home in the Indian hinterland- Raipur. Yes, I call it so because, apparently, before you think it has started the city ends. She wrote a Facebook note pointing out how she doesn’t have to rummage through her room every morning looking for things right from a fresh towel to ironed clothes, not having to change bed covers, because everything was taken care of by her mother, unlike her days in Delhi.
That reminds me how unkempt my humble nest in South Delhi is. Newspapers strewn across (Courtesy- my sports scribe flatmate. Yea, he is a journo too. Much cooler than I can ever be. But, I’ll save roomie bashing for some other day :p), clothes unwashed for weeks, no laundry service for a fortnight, unclean bathroom, no groceries. Had it not been for our landlord (unworthy of my blog-space), the nest would have been worse than a garbage dump. Yes, we live with a landlord, just to remind you’ll, “Being a journalist ain’t cool.”
When I used to be in the City that never sleeps aka Mumbai, my mother would take care of such stuff. I never had to remain hungry ever – although my frail frame needs just a few ounces of food, morsels rather. Now, even after having relatively loaded bank balance I don’t feel hungry. The hunger has just died. If I ever engage in a fight with you, you would back out in pity thinking, “Ek maarunga bikhaar jaayega.”
How disconnected I am or rather want to be with Amma! Or I am yet to figure what my relationship is with her. Or maybe, it’s just a passing phase wherein I’m in love with the independent life I’ve been leading for the past 13 months in Delhi. That doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I love her a lot, but when it comes to a medium of channelizing my love unto her there is none. Zilch are the occasions when I’d call her up and talk about the struggles that I go through, the happiness I get from smallest things. I don’t even bother to inform her that I get praised at work. No bragging, but I do. Neither do I tell her when I am happy nor when sad. Probably, Amma has begun to accept that I’m a stonehearted child of hers- bereft of any love for her.
If it wasn’t for her care and I would cease to be me. As I write this blog on the eve of Gandhi Jayanti, the 142nd birth anniversary of Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, I quote the Father of our Nation, “ The duty of motherhood requires qualities that man doesn’t possess…The Art of bringing up the infants of the race is her special and sole prerogative. Without her care the race must become extinct…”
And a fun fact before you get bored and decide against reading any further, I usually don’t remain sad for long and whenever I am, I say to myself, “Don’t be sad. Be like ‘Chatty’. Because Chatty is just AWESOME.” True story. I disclose my nickname for I don’t want to be called as an anonymous blogger.
Leading a life in Amma’s absence has made independent, crippled me many a time. But with each episode, there were things to be learnt. She so longs for me to blabber any damn shit and yet I remain unyielding to her needs. Our telephonic conversation lasting more than 40 seconds is a rarity. But, there is this sense on incompleteness that prevails every day. I usually wind up my work at The Indian Express by 1245 am, yet I stay back till late 2-230 am. And when colleagues ask why don’t you go home, I reply, “Kya karein, ghar pe koi raah dekhnewaali nahi hai?” It amuses them and I amuse myself with this line. Frankly, there ain’t no looking forward to resting my ass at the nest.
Living in Delhi makes you bold, you live in the moment. Like once on a flight back from Mumbai, a Delhi chic sitting next to me struck up a conversation about random thing. Usually, I don’t talk to fellow passengers at all and yet here I was 30,000 ft above the sea level talking to this girl. Only to find on my way to the nest, from the airport, that this chic has left a tissue with her contact number. Calm down your excitement, Chatty didn’t call her up. And for this sin his roomie gave an earful, not to mention informed the hinterland girl about my stupidity. The Barnicle in me had not woken up to hitting on girls then, leave alone the thought of dating them. I’m still apprehensive of dating girls.
Whenever this topic comes up amongst my group of friends. I say, “I can be a girl’s best man, but not a girl’s man.” A dear friend, let’s call her Whiner, once said, “Chatty, the reason for it is, you are committed to work, you are committed to friends.” I guess I am, very much. I replied, “I am a commitment freak.. kyunki ek baar jo maine commitment kar di toh main khudki bhi nahi sunta.” Period. The conversation ended for that moment. I fail to realise that if I don’t look out for girls, our race- as Gandhi said- may become extinct. It is the only way to give women their due. Not that there is no one else to take the race forward, I should nonetheless try my best.
“When you have a woman in your life, things organize themselves for you. Else, you have to organize them”, isn’t chauvinistic. In fact it is the very point of your existence. You may want my room neat and tidy, home-cooked food each day but when you live alone you learn things which you wouldn’t have ever. It is for my parents’ approval that I came to Delhi. I learnt washing clothes, the art of cooking. How do mothers surprisingly present things right at the moment when you need them? Now, I know where to find the things I’m looking for. Delhi taught me, ’if your mother can find stuff for you, so can you’.
When you have someone taking care of your needs, you become lethargic, careless about your possessions. I just did that when I had gone home in August. I lost my driving license. Result – I don’t get to ride with Aragorn. (Aragorn??? You’ll have to wait). During the visit prior to the one in August, I forgot a shirt back home and kept cursing the laundry guy for losing my shirt. I take care not to fall sick for there’ll be no one to nurture and nourish me back to health.
Oh damn!!!! I started this piece to put up a larger than life picture of me and how my tea with this gentleman (from previous blog, pardon me for insulting your memory) at his home went, how I wooed his hot daughter and I wrote a sob story. I decided against it but much to your relief, Chatty is becoming popular with girls. He’s managed to get fleeting and constant glances from a girl at work (Something to look forward to). True story. As Will Turner says in one of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, “Keep a weather eye on the horizon.” And I do. “Aye”. So should you for your girl or your guy, for if you don’t our race will cease to exist.
Awesome :)
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