Mom's day out Most of us are so busy that nine times out of 10 we take the most precious person in our lives for granted. It's only when we are thrown into a situation where there is no escape that we understand that person's worth. Something to this effect happened to me lately. My mother suddenly had to leave town to take care of our ailing granny. And all of a sudden I found myself loaded with the responsibilities that I had always run away from. Being the youngest and the most pampered didn't help much. I was nervous. The maid had to deal with burnt pans and vessels for many days I must say that I had a special preference for milk -- somehow I always managed to reduced one litre of the stuff to half, and the pan to charcoal brown, with very little effort. Cooking, though I could clank the utensils as well as the next man, was something that bored me immensely. But one's stomach can produce scarier growls than South African lions and, so, at the end of many hard days, I found myself in the kitchen. I had categorically refused to cook for my brother. Poor fellow, he has never harmed me... Oh, how I missed the hot chappatis and spicy veggies that my mom used to dish out every night! The maid, I soon noticed, had begun taking liberties. Her cleaning and sweeping exercises were getting limited. "What, am I to be reduced to sweeping and swabbing?" thought I. "I would rather die!" I am very much alive today, thank you. I had to eat humble pie. When I could no longer tolerate the cockroaches holding deep discourses in my kitchen, I went after them with a broom. I am proud to say that I succeeded in assassinating seven of them. :-) Days passed. There appeared a monstrous pile of dirty clothes in our bathroom. As much as I wanted to overlook it, I knew it was time to get things straight. I didn't have a single pair of jeans for my best friend's birthday party. There was no question of someone helping me with the washing, so I ended up doing it all alone. And, man, did I miss my mother dear real bad! With her around, things were so much more organised. Whatever I wanted I got in a jiffy. I felt like Alladdin who had lost his lamp. Sleeping was a nightmare, literally. I had never slept alone before (I am only a little ashamed to say this, just a teeny-weeny bit) and the thought of doing so was anything but pleasing. But I had to live with it, I guess. I retired to my bed with Louisa May Scott's Little Women. The book is about a woman and her four daughters. It reflects the importance of family ties; something which I felt so vividly missing in mine at that point. "How can one person's temporary absence in my life make it so miserable?" I wondered aloud. I consoled myself by listening to Metallica. It was the end of the month. Time to buy groceries, something that I hadn't done for a really, really long time. I didn't want to end up looking a fool, so I asked my kind neighbour to call for the grocer. To my horror I discovered that the price of everything was sky-high. The short and long of it was that I vowed to stick to Kolam rice instead of the ridiculously expensive Basmati. Whether my small sacrifice comes to notice or not, I learnt a lot in my mother's absence. I felt I had grown up. I understood the delicate situations of life. I learnt the importance of planning and organising. I learnt how hard my mother struggled to make things work. I will never again take anyone for granted. It will be another week before Mother Verma returns. Tell us what you think of this diary
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