8

Do the Wardrobe | #ShareTheLoad

Do The Wardrobe | #ShareTheLoad #Blogadda

“Papa who will prepare the breakfast for us”, I asked hungrily.

“I will beta I will”, he replied. “Don’t worry! What will you have for breakfast? What did mummy generally cook?” he questioned.

I answered, “We would usually have a dry vegetable to go along with Paratha.”

He said, “OK don’t worry.”

What he didn’t say was he had never cooked before in his lifetime.

The year was 1997 and mummy was admitted in a hospital for an ear operation. It required two surgeries to be performed and it would have required her to be in the hospital for a whole long week. She had never left us alone for so long without guidance. 10 min into the ordeal he was yet to light the stove.

My sister and I knew that there was no way we were getting any breakfast before school time to forget about getting paratha and bhindi.

After a few minutes, he gave up and handed us both 20 rupees each and asked to eat something from the school canteen.

A week later mom returned and we told her the complete episode. Since then she made it point to teach me all the things necessary related to running a household and the so-called things that are supposedly done by females of a house. Today I can proudly say that there are days when I cook better than my sister.

She taught me everything from cooking to washing clothes from cleaning and mopping to arranging wardrobes. I guess that is the biggest reason I don’t have problems staying alone. Btw everybody claims that my partner would be forever happy (Anybody listening!).

Mom and Me

I make it a point to help mom every now and then with all the things. In fact, whenever I am visiting her I try to spend most of the time with her and help her out with her chores. With age catching up fast on her, it is my prime priority to spend as much time with her as possible and what better way than performing her tasks along with her.

Another comical thing that happens every time my sister pays a visit – The mom-daughter duo gets into a war mode to clean up and dust the house. They are so good with it that most times there are many things that will be forever lost in the black hole of cleaning.

For this, I have taken upon myself to make and arrange my wardrobe. To reduce the load on mom and to prevent further things to get forever lost, I do it on a weekly basis usually on Sundays. After every wash, mom hands over my clothes to me and they are neatly ironed and then folded into the wardrobe. I being me never lose an opportunity to tease them how nicely I have done it.

Every time someone chases me with the question of getting married I either show them my wardrobe or cook a wonderful dish for them and most times they get the answer. There was an era when a washing machine was a privilege and status symbol – Mom even taught me to wash clothes with bare hands.

Even if you cannot wash clothes or put a load in the washing machine, at least, try to keep things in your wardrobe by yourself. This way it will save a lot of time for you every morning when you shout at the top of your voice for your handkerchiefs and socks. It is just like if you can’t cook at least cut a vegetable or do the dishes (I know I know a lot of wives and moms would be rooting for me).

Many guys, especially bachelors, would still find it daunting. Well, you can always start with baby steps – forget about folding clothes and ironing them. Start with creating separate sections for shirts, trousers, socks, undergarments and so on. Once you will get into this habit then all that would be left for you to do is to fold them neatly and arrange them. After washing, always tie up a pair of socks together – it will prevent them from getting misplaced.

I am not complaining, I guess the culture or the society was weaved that way but I often thought that if my father didn’t learn to light up a stove then half of it was his fault but half of it was my grandmothers’. If she would have been strict with him or even encouraged him to try his hand at all this, we would not have gone to the school hungry that day.

Somehow the society is like that. When a guy doesn’t learn all this then a certain section of society blames him to be patriarchal but it becomes even difficult when a male learns all this and simply tries to help their mother, sister, wife and daughter, then he is blessed with so many negative names. Anyway, it’s their mindset and you cannot help it. I am happy till my mom is happy and every time I do these things I feel, even in a smaller way, I have honoured her teachings.

All the mothers with young kids please teach your sons right from an early age that there is no shame in doing household chores and I am sure they will grow up as better understanding and empathetic adults.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For all those who males help their mothers,

For all those males who can cook,

For all those who can wash clothes with bare hands,

And

For all those who can arrange their wardrobes…

It’s not a goodbye,

But it’s a GOOD BYE.

Let’s convert our Sundays into SON-days.

Don’t just be a Mamma’s boy, be Mamma’s real SON. Let’s start with #ShareTheLoad every Sunday.

‘I pledge to #ShareTheLoad in household chores in association with Ariel and BlogAdda

Advertisements
27

She can be Forever

Top post on IndiBlogger, the biggest community of Indian Bloggers

She can be Forever…

She can be extremely wild…

She can be utmost patient,

She can be just a moment…

And then She can be forever.

 

She can be the love of a partner…

She can be the squabble of a sister,

She can be the joy of a daughter…

And then She can be the caring lap of a mother.

 

She can be irritatingly jealous…

She can be childishly innocent,

She can be vaguely mysterious…

And then She can be intelligibly clear

 

She can be a sorted corporate tycoon…

She can be a puzzled simple housewife,

She can be the first teacher…

And then She can be the last lesson.

 

She can be a sparkling stream…

She can be a tranquil lake,

She can be a single drop…

And then She can be the complete ocean.

 

She can be harsh lonely winter…

She can be warm crowded summer,

She can be fertile flooding monsoon…

And then She can be flowering fresh spring.

 

She can be the meditating mountain…

She can be the wavering wave,

She can be the misty dew…

And then She can be the picturesque nature.

 

She can be feisty fire…

She can be the quenching water,

She can be oxygenated air…

And then She can be the complete earth.

 

She can be a distant twinkling star…

She can be a nearby beautiful moon,

She can be a milky white galaxy…

And then She can be the entire universe.

 

She can be the pinching of thorns…

She can be the tickling of feathers

She can be the sorrow of death…

And then She can be the bliss of life.

 

She can be just a moment…

And then she can be forever.

 

Manas ‘Sameer’ Mukul

I am taking my Alexa rank to the next level with Blogchatter

#MyFriendAlexa #ContemplationOfaJoker #CirqueDuJoker

205

Death on Karnataka Express

Death on Karnataka Express

The sudden jerk of the train coming to a halt shook me out of slumber. I was sleeping on the middle berth of a three-tier AC coach. I moved the pungent smelling inflexible curtain and tried to peep through the window. The sun was yet to rise but the morning blue had taken over the milieus. It looked like the train was moving through the outskirts of a city. I got my wristwatch out of my backpack and checked the time. It was 6:30 am.

We were travelling in Karnataka express from Bangalore to New Delhi. My initial job training got over in Mysore and I got posting in Chandigarh. Mom was paying a visit to my sister in Bangalore and hence was accompanying me back till Chandigarh.

The last time I checked in the night, when we reached Bhopal, the train was running on its scheduled time.

I thought, ‘we must be approaching Agra by this time.’

I slid to my left and looked down at the lower berth. Mom was still sleeping peacefully. A sensation urged me to use the washroom. I slowly got down in a crouching position, making sure not to wake her up, slipped into my slippers and walked through the narrow passage towards the washroom.

Death on Karnataka Express

After using the washroom, I decided to look outside the entrance door of the coach, since the train hadn’t yet moved. There is no more serene sight than countryside right up early in the morning. I leaped outside the gate but there was no one in sight. ‘Probably most of the people are still sleeping’, I supposed. ‘It was a good four hours still left for us to reach New Delhi, if the train reached at its timetabled arrival time.’

The huge iron wheels slowly started moving making a screeching sound. I shut the door and walked back to my berth. The berth opposite to mom’s berth was empty.

‘The elderly man would have got down at a station somewhat late in the night, as I was pretty much awake past midnight’, I pondered.

Five more minutes passed by and the train gathered momentum. The rural dwellings in the landscape were being replaced by more urban infrastructure. I knew that the railway station was about to arrive and considered having a cup of tea and some biscuits. Mom usually is an early riser and it was way past her regular wake up time. ‘

‘I guess she wouldn’t have an idea what time it is’, I assumed.

She didn’t prefer tea prepared at stations but I, nevertheless, thought of asking her before the station arrives. I feebly called out, “MOM.”

“Mom…Mom…MOM”, I kept calling gradually increasing the pitch of my voice. She didn’t respond leave alone waking up.

I touched her feet to wake her up but she didn’t respond this time either. I started shaking her arm slightly and simultaneously calling out ‘mom…mom…mom.’ It felt as if she was intentionally not waking up.

I touched her forehead. It was damp and cold. Initially I thought that the air-conditioning might have done it. Her cheeks were even icier. I didn’t know what had happened to her. I kept shaking her arm and calling her for more than two minutes but she didn’t budge a single bit.

I was beginning to get worried. I didn’t know what to do. I could see the train slowly entering the station through the window and thought of trying to wake her up one more time.

She didn’t respond.

By now the glitter of sweat was shining on my forehead. I was getting more and more nervous and anxious as time passed. Somehow in these sorts of situations, negative thoughts are the first ones to swarm your mind.

They didn’t spare me either and for a second I thought, ‘Is Mom dead?’

The more I was trying to wake her up, the stronger the sinking feeling became. I knew I had to remain calm and try to think my way through, ‘what if she was actually dead.’

In my custom and tradition the first thing that happens is, as soon as you get to know that either of your parents or any blood relative has passed away, we aren’t supposed to eat anything till the final cremation rituals are performed.

I quelled my mind and focused on the difficult task at hand. I started deliberating, ‘should I get down at Agra or should I continue till New Delhi and seek some help there? Should I call someone right away?’ Should I seek some medical help in the train itself?

My heart was breaking in fact shattering.

I knew it was going to be a long…really long day ahead. The thought of not eating anything for the next two days was already eating my mind. I decided to get down to at least have a cup of tea and couple of cookies. The train was about to move and I had to act fast.

I immediately got down and went to a railway tea stall. The vendor was selling some stale tea but there wasn’t any other option in sight. I decided since I might not get anything else; let me purchase two cups of tea. I purchased a packet of biscuits and put it in my jeans’ rear pocket. I thought of having one cup right away but that same screeching sound of the iron wheels started.

I hurriedly reached the metal door and a fellow passenger helped me board the train again.

I was making my way through few people who were beginning to wake up, making sure I don’t spill any of it.

The eerie feeling of having tea right next to my dead mom also came over me for a second but the contemplation of being hungry for the next two days made a starving sensation in me and I thought, ‘what the hell! Let me have it. There wasn’t anyone who knew me or would complain that I had tea and cookies after mom passed away.’

As soon as I reached my berth, I was dumbfounded and speechless by what I saw.

Mom was wide-awake sitting upright and combing her hair. She annoyingly looked at me and began, ‘how many times have I told you not to get down on every station. What happened to you is everything all right? Why do you look so astonished?’

I handed her a cup of tea interrupting her and sheepishly said, “I got down to bring you some tea and biscuits.”

“In all these years have you ever seen me have this railway station tea?” she added.

I knew it was embarrassingly awkward what had conspired into my head and decided to tell her the ordeal of buying two cups of tea.

She broke into a loud uncontrollable laughter. I joined in. I told her that the first thought that came to my mind after seeing my mom dead, was to have tea and biscuit.

We kept on laughing till we reached New Delhi.

To this day, whenever we discuss a train journey, we roll in fits of laughter remembering this episode.

For all those who love their moms,

For all those who have lost loved ones,

For all those who are fed up of such rituals,

For all those who love trains,

And

For all those who love humour…

It’s not a GoodBye…

But It’s a GOOD BYE

Manas ‘Sameer’ Mukul

I am taking my Alexa rank to the next level with Blogchatter

#MyFriendAlexa #ContemplationOfaJoker #CirqueDuJoker

6

MOTHERHOOD – The SACRED Emotion

For the past three days I have been thinking a lot about this, writing about it, reading even more about it and trying to come up with a start to this one but I was unable to do so…until now.

When a mother Crocodile lays eggs, it usually lays them around some murky area like a swamp. It takes around three months for the eggs to hatch. You will be surprised to know (if you don’t know it already) that it stays just at the water level in such a position that only its eyes are above the water level. The mother crocodile does this to keep a close watch on the eggs that nobody tries to eat them or destroy them. It does not eat anything for months before it has laid eggs but just after it has laid them, one will expect it to at least have a decent diet. But it’s shocking (at least for me) that it does not move even a single bit till the time they actually hatch. Can you imagine the kind of sacrifices it makes…the kind of pain it endures…and the kind of a selflessness the mother crocodile shows? Irrespective of the species…whether it is a human or an animal…this can only be done and achieved by a MOTHER.

You might be an atheist but the whole concept of bearing a child…giving birth to a living being is in itself is totally awesome…totally divine. There is something very beautiful in being a mother. I have seen people abandoning their parents…their homes…their souls…but you will never find a true mother abandoning its child. No matter how much distressed you are…how much depressed you are…a mother’s lap is the best medicine if not the best solution. Her hug is the soothing heaven. There are days when u are surrounded by crowd and you still feel lonely and then there are days when u have just your mother by your side and you feel BLESSED.

Image Reference: www.imageblogs.org

Image Reference: http://www.imageblogs.org

A pond is bound to have some bad fishes, similarly some of these modern madams…today…are seen shying away from their duties…their responsibilities. Their priorities have changed but still I strongly believe and feel…that the good ones…the dedicated ones…the devoted ones…are far too many that these bad ones can have any effect on the society and one can surely say that Motherhood is here to stay for eternity.

Being a mother, no matter how easy it seems, is the most difficult job of the world and on top of it…surprisingly…there is no salary…no package attached to it. And still every girl wants to get married and be a MOM someday. When a lady gives birth, the amount of pain she experiences is way too much and beyond human boundaries and it is in itself a kind of miracle that a woman bears that much just to get to the end of it…to be a MOTHER.

Image Reference: techmadz.com

Image Reference: techmadz.com

Only a mother can go out there and wash others dirty clothes and utensils so that she can feed her child…so that she can just bring a smile to her child’s face. She undertakes all sorts of pain so that there is none in our lives. You can see mammals…you can see amphibians…you can see humans…and find so many dissimilarities…but the only constant among all is…MOTHERHOOD. The dedication…the devotion…the protectiveness…the care…the selflessness…the love…the MOTHERHOOD…is the visible and remains same among all.

There are days when a mother can even fight the Gods and bring you back to life from his grasp and then there are days when she can go ahead and take the life of her offspring when she realizes that he/she has treaded the wrong path. I guess they rightly say, “A woman is born again when she gives birth and becomes a mother”. If you ask any woman who has given birth…she will reply with a gentle smile…that the sacrifices she makes…the sleepless nights she spent raising us…is the real joy being a mother and the splendour of motherhood.

Motherhood; it is simply incomparable…immeasurable and you can surely bet upon it that wherever it is present there will be goodness around it. She is the one who understands you without you even uttering a word and she is the one who knows you more than you yourself. For me, if there is any form of life there is bound to be motherhood. Even the gods require a mother to take birth. Motherhood is the most beautiful and sacred of all the emotions.

This one is a tribute to all the mothers out there including mine who gave me birth and made me capable enough of writing it this day. RESPECT THEM AND NEVER LEAVE THEM.

For all those who love their moms,

For all those who care for them,

For all those who respect them,

For all those who are mothers,

For all those who want to be mothers,

And

For all those who can do anything for their mothers,

It’s not a GOODBYE…

But it’s a GOOD BYE…aur han just go and tell your mothers how much you love them…Now is the RIGHT TIME.

‘I am writing a Tribute to Mom in association with Parentous.com

MANAS ‘SAMEER’ MUKUL