My maid Manju decided to finally stop working . She was pregnant . For the greater part of this winter , she would waddle in with her huge tummy , swollen feet and eyelids and refuse to take "chhutti". She got me a replacement girl from her native Bahraich , called Poonam . But refused to let go of the "Kothi ", as even humble abodes as mine are wont to be called in Punjab.
She had her Mom called in from Bahraich as well , and got her to do the dishes . This caused friction , in certain quarters. Poonam wanted the "Kothi" all to herself . Manju was not willing to let go . I felt like a prized peacock in my silverback years .
The day Manju's mother joined , Poonam , a relative of theirs , absented herself . She came later , with a distant sister in law of her own , and promised to do all my jobs , never do "Naga"(Absenteeism ) , provided I chuck the Maasi ( Manju's mother ). This became a classical take -over-saga. In all this family political battle for secession , I was less like a pawn , and more like a virulent catalyst .
One day , Poonam sent a young girl called Shashi (another sister-in -law ) . She was wiry , pretty , teen and heavily bejewelled . She marched to the balcony , picked up the broom , and placing one foot on the railing , kept staring into the space . A perfect Jhansi ki Rani stance . What she did next was no less than a Jhansi ki Rani-ish thing to do . She spotted her hubby , a grown man bicycling to his daily wage labour , give lift to a female acquaintance . She burst in , sans broom , and authoritatively asked for my phone . I meekly handed her . She furiously dialled a number and proceeded to call her better half , berating him and calling him choicest of names while striding from balcony to balcony , making herself heard,amply, in the entire neighbourhood . Kids , pretending to study , in their studies , poked heads out , with raised eyebrows .
It was time to pass a law against sister in laws of all shades . Meanwhile , Manju delivered , without much fanfare, a baby girl , her sixth offspring.
Taking matters and dishes and brooms into her wrinkled hands , Manju's mother has been holding the fort for the past month . Never absenting , despite blinding fog and biting cold. Rock steady . She wears a saree , and a shawl . Shawl she proceeds to dump on the kitchen stool , pulls up her battered sweater on her skinny arms , and proceeds to make short work of jobs meant for kids half her age .
We have learnt to remind her thrice about her tea getting cold , and to lie about the time . She will ask the time before she leaves for the next house . If you tell 930 , she runs in her flip flops, and is likely to fall down the stairs . So we calmly tell her it is 9 and she peacefully ambles away.
She works three houses each day and has thereby preserved all the "kothis " her daughter worked in . One month later when the baby is three months old , Manju intends to join too .
She had her Mom called in from Bahraich as well , and got her to do the dishes . This caused friction , in certain quarters. Poonam wanted the "Kothi" all to herself . Manju was not willing to let go . I felt like a prized peacock in my silverback years .
The day Manju's mother joined , Poonam , a relative of theirs , absented herself . She came later , with a distant sister in law of her own , and promised to do all my jobs , never do "Naga"(Absenteeism ) , provided I chuck the Maasi ( Manju's mother ). This became a classical take -over-saga. In all this family political battle for secession , I was less like a pawn , and more like a virulent catalyst .
One day , Poonam sent a young girl called Shashi (another sister-in -law ) . She was wiry , pretty , teen and heavily bejewelled . She marched to the balcony , picked up the broom , and placing one foot on the railing , kept staring into the space . A perfect Jhansi ki Rani stance . What she did next was no less than a Jhansi ki Rani-ish thing to do . She spotted her hubby , a grown man bicycling to his daily wage labour , give lift to a female acquaintance . She burst in , sans broom , and authoritatively asked for my phone . I meekly handed her . She furiously dialled a number and proceeded to call her better half , berating him and calling him choicest of names while striding from balcony to balcony , making herself heard,amply, in the entire neighbourhood . Kids , pretending to study , in their studies , poked heads out , with raised eyebrows .
It was time to pass a law against sister in laws of all shades . Meanwhile , Manju delivered , without much fanfare, a baby girl , her sixth offspring.
Taking matters and dishes and brooms into her wrinkled hands , Manju's mother has been holding the fort for the past month . Never absenting , despite blinding fog and biting cold. Rock steady . She wears a saree , and a shawl . Shawl she proceeds to dump on the kitchen stool , pulls up her battered sweater on her skinny arms , and proceeds to make short work of jobs meant for kids half her age .
We have learnt to remind her thrice about her tea getting cold , and to lie about the time . She will ask the time before she leaves for the next house . If you tell 930 , she runs in her flip flops, and is likely to fall down the stairs . So we calmly tell her it is 9 and she peacefully ambles away.
She works three houses each day and has thereby preserved all the "kothis " her daughter worked in . One month later when the baby is three months old , Manju intends to join too .
comes up
what goes round
comes around
old clock ticking
what keeps the
heart beating
A mind thinking
A hand tinkering
My mom knitting
for neighbours and grand kids
For strangers and family
for kin , kith and all merrily
immovable wrists
uncontrollable bladder
She grows older and younger
cardigans and sweaters
She has decided she must give
of her gift , freely , be alive
On thanks she survives
While others await futilely
She knits furiously
While her legs do not
She has abundant hope
and has found pluck
in Two needles and a
ball of yarn.