When my daughters were born, obviously, we were
thrilled. For several reasons. You already know that.
But then everyone exclaimed how lucky I was to be blessed with two
little angels….."not like boys,” they said, “you’ll see, girls are such an
asset, you’ll have peace and quiet and there’s nothing quite like daughters to
heal a mother’s soul….”
Ever skeptical, I resolutely went through the enigmatic stages of
breast feeding, weaning, bottle feeding, diapers, potty training, the mashed
vegetables, the stage when every time I sat to eat, one or the other would want
to go to the loo, the stage when all I ever got in a restaurant was mismatched
leftovers of food I did not want to eat, the stage when I was regurgitating Class VII Geography in my sleep…and waited for them to turn into the
little angels I had been told they would become.
I’m still waiting. The girls are now teenagers and not only isn't
there the slightest hint of a halo on either head, I suspect the
"Angel" phase has completely passed them by!
When the girls were much younger, at a party another mother had sighed, “you are lucky you have girls; I have two boys, you can’t imagine the
noise and the mess.” I invited her then and there to visit my house. Somehow I would
manage a semblance of order in the rest of the house, but their room always,
but always, looked like a hurricane just passed by. I seriously suspected a
ghost lived in that room. The cupboard doors were perennially open, flapping
about in the wind, clothes lay strewn on the bed, books took up residence all
over the floor, some naked headless limbless relics of Barbie dolls stuck out
of the toy basket and the study tables resembled a kabadi khana. And if that
wasn't enough, a roller skate could be found strategically placed on the floor
so that any unsuspecting entrant would slide halfway across the room to cause
serious bodily harm or at least stub the toe.
Now, nothing much has changed. Except that there is no
toy basket or roller skate. The cupboard doors still hang open, washed laundry
from last year waits to be put away and the dressing table is a multi-hued assortment
of junk. And instead of Barbie dolls you have shoes and chappals peeping from corners.
I yell … two “angels” peer at me after some delay…..no one knows
how the room is messy, just as they never knew when they were younger. Even the
excuses have not changed: “But Ma I had
closed the cupboard door, Ishadidi must have taken out her clothes….” and
“I never touched those books, how would I know how it got there, it must be
Amisha…..” Sigh. And since we do not have a cat to blame all this on, it must
be the ghost!
I order them to clean up……they groan. "We'll do it,
"they insist as they propel me out of their room. Earlier, at least they
used to listen. They would fight, there would be a lot of “stop its” and “shut
ups” and “Ma, she’s not helping” but they would at least do SOMETHING. Now, If
I peep into their room after a while, one is lolling on the bed staring at a screen and the
other is draped on the bed, staring at a screen. The wi-fi never goes off in
our house. And yes, the cupboard doors are now half open, someone has made a feeble attempt to kick
it shut from the bed, you see!
When the girls were younger, I had another battle to
face: studies. Thankfully, that stage is over and I am quite clueless about
what they are doing in school. I never could understand why on earth I had to
teach my kids all those things that I thought I was over and done with quarter
of a century ago! And back then, I knew mothers who were very knowledgeable and
informed…..they dedicated themselves to inspecting the child’s bag when the child
returned from school. They attended every parent teacher meeting and school
discussion and had a network of other mothers to fall back on when the child was
unwell or…(God forbid,) forgot to copy the homework….. I was never one of them.
I did not have one single iota of patience in my body. I did not know my daughter’s
friends’ mothers, I had no retentive powers when it came to the alimentary canal
of a frog and I seriously did not care that the people in Jammu spoke the Dogri
language. Yes, I was a self contained selfish individual who did not want to
fill her head with useless bits of information…can you imagine, a judge would ask
me “and what do you have to say to that, Mrs Banerjee?” and after a slight
hesitation, I would reply, “a baby cockroach is called a nymph, the process of
growing up is called molting…” Yes, that used to be one of my recurring
nightmares!
Anyway since that stage is over my evening duties from the time I
am free till I retire for the night, (specially now that summer vacations are
on) consist of telling them to turn the volume down or prodding them to do
things like remove their chappals from the living room, remove their story book
from the sofa, switch off the wi-fi … all of which goes in one ear and out the
other. Only when I moan that I am a hopeless mother and have not been able to
raise them properly do they sit up and take notice. Only to shrug and mutter
"drama queen" under their breaths which I pretend not to hear.
Sometimes I wish I was teaching them Maths again. A few fractions or algebraic
equations would be more fun!
I keep telling my husband that I was not made for this
life. I should be lazing indolently on my bed in a chilled room all day,
servants running at my beck and call and have pet Labradors who I will cuddle
once in a while for diversion…..I’ve even thought of names for the dogs….Whiskey
and Soda and I will wear designer jogging suits and casually take them for a
walk in the Lakes when the whim strikes me. And when the kids (who are obviously well groomed and perfectly well behaved) come home from
school, I'll wave a perfectly manicured finger at them and they shall silently
retire to their rooms! Once in a while I shall attend Kitty parties and shop
for diamonds…….
Only that is not to be. Here I am stuck in an endless world of two
pouting teenagers with hair that fall all over their faces, eyes that are
perpetually glued to some screen or the other and voices that are forever asking me to
"chill" or telling me that
"it's under control".
I don't know what they have under control but I do
know it takes every ounce of self control on my part to NOT have a fight with
them . Because you see, fights are always , but always bubbling under the surface.
Anything you say, however well-intentioned, can, may, and most likely will, be
used against you! An innocuous question like, "have you brushed your teeth?" or "won't you comb your hair?" or even "where are your slippers?" can well be the beginning of World War III! I just cannot wait for the holidays to be over… I am hopeful
that once school starts in earnest, there will be some semblance of discipline
in the house!
Yes, yes, I am fortunate. I do know my life is full of light,
laughter and sunshine. I know I should enjoy the years I have with them because
all too soon it will be time for them to leave home and I will pine for them. I
know my children are the daughters of Life’s longing for itself and I house
their bodies and not their souls or something like that as Kahlil Gibran has
wisely said. And so many people have told often enough that daughters are
little angels in waiting…….
