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Sunday, August 22, 2010

Tops and pants from the wardrobe of life


When I was tidying the piles of clothes in my cupboard only I realized that more than half of my tops and T-shirts there were being bought for me by Amma; except for a couple of times, I haven’t even been there with her to try them on, when she went ahead with her freewill and bought them.
It was surprising that every one of those dresses fitted me perfectly, and they certainly lasted longer than the pants I had bought for myself. For Nangi, it was a different story; for her, Amma’s choices are either too grand or too short.
Clothes perhaps is one of those departments where I can close my eyes and let Amma pick anything, she thinks, suits me, but I would not do it all the time.
Thaththa, being a teacher, never tried to cut and mend our lives according to his criteria of ‘ideal daughter,’ and nor did Amma. But she was firm when it comes to studies and exams.
Amma who had been a grade five scholar a long times ago, was eager to see me getting through the hurdle with flying colours. Fortunately, she didn’t go to the extent of dragging me to every ‘shishyathva panthiya’ in the town like most of the mothers do today but gave me hard times, with math tables and essay writing. Essay writing was something I enjoyed doing by memorizing math tables was a nightmare.
With Nangi and Malli she was more lenient. I can hardly remember her urging Nangi to memorize her math tables or boxing Malli’s ears for writing wrong spelling.
I was spared the torments of being in the limelight until the day the O/L results were out. Like any other mother, she wanted me to pick science or maths stream. Amma was so adamant to dump me into a bio or maths class that anyone who phoned her to check on my results was given a full account of my so-called stupidity and pleaded them to urge me to change my mind. Finally with Thaththa’s support, when I said I would go to the Language class, she said it was a crime to be there with nine As.
This did not create a rift between us and after the first couple of weeks things were very much back to normal. To my relief, this status quo prevailed for another two years till the day university cut-off marks were released. Falling short of one point was a bitter pill to swallow for the both of us. I completely lost my faith in the local system of examinations and being a repeater was the last thing I wanted to do.
Amma who did not give up easily, wanted me to start studying for the following year’s exam. But, all I wanted to do was to go out from the egg shell and see the world. Just to please her I took to my books again and applied to sit the exam, when at the back of my mind, I knew I would never again step into an examination hall, wearing the school uniform.
Going back to the world of books whose pages were vividly recorded in my photographic memory was too much for a person like me who never fell in love with Chekhov’s Trofimov in the Cherry Orchard. So, Amma was never the one to pat my head and say “Good work, Loku,” when I joined an advertising firm as an English Copywriter. Later, when I joined the press, she was devastated.
But when I look back, I realize the fact that it has always been the way with her to object first, but give her much needed okay later. Perhaps it is a matter of time to see me surviving in the field I choose despite her complaints and pleas. She would continue to be so, but I will continue to love her.
After all, she must have used it as a source of encouragement, knowing that I do things I’m being told not to do!

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