My own efforts not to ‘get married’ alongwith my parents efforts to ‘get me married’ have mostly culminated in disaster and I have many incidents to recount. Like the time my mother sitting in my sleepy little hometown identified a prospective son in law. The son of a relation’s friends’ friend was supposed to be good looking, qualified and a software professional to boot! The fact that he lived in Mumbai - my then residence - added to his eligibility substantially. I was told of the guy and asked to expect a call.
Sunday - me in my shorts was dusting cobwebs when the bell rang. A lady of generous proportions with an apologetic looking man in tow loomed in the doorway. I was looked up and down and then with a look of utter disdain the quivering mound of flesh announced her name. Not able to associate the name with any acquaintance I made an unsuccessful bid to block the door - she sailed past followed by her cringing better half. Once inside, she graciously informed me that she was the mother of the boy about whom my parents would have told me - the sad looking better half obviously deserved no introduction
As she looked around with the air of an invading Hun she quizzed me on the rent I paid, how much I earned, what time I got back from work. Poor insignificant me in a pair of grubby shorts and a face full of cobwebs answered to the best of my capability, made them some tea and then sat quiet while her scrutiny of the house and me continued. They departed after half an hour later with an assurance from Mother India that she would return with her elusive son ‘one day’
Another lazy Sunday and the bell heralded a revisit from prospective ma in law. In come Mama and a bouncing, little roly poly figure with a protruding middle - her son! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry - my emotions hardly mattered as future MIL asked me to take off my shoes and stand next to the little dumpling. Fuming inside but with no escape I drew up my full 5′3″ and did the needful. A beaming mama proclaimed us perfect as we stood ear to ear - the same height if not the same width. Mama then proceeded to ask her son if there was anything he wanted to ask - he shook his head and continued inspecting his feet. Undaunted his mother chattered, consumed two cups of tea while the bashful son at regular intervals prodded his mom and whispered ‘lets go…’;He had seen enough of me I guess for a lifetime
A call from my mother told me that I was ‘liked’ and that we should proceed.
I threw a fit…end of story!
Marriage and ‘ME’
Posted in Of Men and Marriage! on 10/05/2006 03:13 pm by sudha lakhera
make it a better place…
Posted in my musings... on 09/28/2006 01:12 pm by sudha lakheraShe sat hunched up in the pouring rain, her head bowed on the outskirts of the reserve forest area. We stopped to help, she snarled at us looking violent. On the outskirts of the Masinagudi forest we saw this deranged, middle aged woman who would not let us close - would not let us help…we drove back to our warm and comfortable beds. I did nothing, I did not know what to do…yet she haunts my thoughts. I wonder what happened to her, I wonder what happens to the many homeless insane who should be in an asylum but are left to fend for themselves in a world of sane people…?
In Mumbai, at 05:00 in the morning sipping tea, I awaited my train at the never empty Dadar station. I didn’t even notice an old woman standing there, till she came closer and thrust her hand forward. Used to beggars I would have ignored her if I hadnt seen her downcast eyes and the look of shame on her face - she was certainly no regular beggar. A closer look proved it - she was wearing a clean saree, in the parting of her hair were faint traces of sindoor and her eyes told of the humiliation she was undergoing. I handed her some money, i do not know how much but I could not bear to look her in the face. The train came, I got in and throughout the journey her plight played on my mind. I wish I could have heard her story, done something for her but yet again I left her behind on a railway platform to help herself. What happens to the old people thrown on the streets but ungrateful children or with no one to care for them…?
Delhi, at the signal this child who was maybe four stood. His face painted, hands outstretched he stood captivated by the brightly coloured remote controlled toy held by a child his age in the car. The difference between the two children was stark but they stood connected for a moment… by a toy. A cuff on the head by a female beggar (the childs mother?) reminded him of his duties. As he went through the song and dance routine I wonder what thoughts were in his little mind? The signal turned green, again I felt a helplessness surround me as I moved forward leaving the little boy and his desires at the signal. What happens to children on the street, some abandoned, some orphaned some brought into the world to meet mercenary needs of parents who don’t care or can’t afford to care…
All these incidents came back to me this morning when I saw a man lying on the side of the road. He was twitching and convulsing suffering from an epileptic fit. I stood and watched him till the fit wore off. I gave him some water asked him if he was ok? He nodded, got up, dusted his clothes and walked off. Life for him would go on and maybe he had got used to lying on the road in the throes of a fit while busy Bangaloreans passed him by without a second glance
Different states, different humans yet all bonded by misery and suffering. Disturbed by these sights, which are so common I have no idea what to do, how to help…? What cheers me up is that there are still a few people who go out of their way to make a difference to one life - they make an impact. If each of us could make a difference to one life maybe there would be one less homeless old person, one less uneducated child, one less person lying dead on the road for lack of aid…
A dream maybe but then again could be a reality - over to you!