“You don’t know how to hang clothes for drying properly,” my Naani ma (maternal grandmother) once said to me. The 13 or 14 year old me was recklessly spreading them on a wire at the terrace during winters, fast winding up an errand mum had assigned me. What a skill to be learnt, I thought. Who is going to do this for life? I pitied her for investing so much emotions in a mundane task of drying clothes. Oblivious to the fact that if she doesn’t dry them with such devotion (in winters and rains when sun doesn’t shine), I may not have clothes to wear for my school. But that were my teenage years, with dreams of being a princess who would never had to get entangled in these frivolous things. I would have a different life than her, I was very sure.
And right I was. My life is very different from her. With all the life’s advancements in terms of societal freedom and technological achievements, I don’t have to dry clothes like her. My washing machine mildly dries them up for me. I don’t even have to wash them like her.
But what hasn’t changed is, running a house is still an extremely difficult task, and primarily a woman’s responsibility. I have to make sure the clothes are washed, dried, hanged and then folded properly every day. If the brown, blue or biege colour sock goes missing, I am answerable. It doesn’t matter whose fault it was. And when Pepsico head Indra Nooyi has this to say, you lose hope of having a day when you would be absolved of your household duties. It’s not the husband you marry (they are the sweetest soul to be tamed), it’s the house that you marry. Till death do you apart! I don’t know about you, but I, among the vast breed of freelancers who work from home, can’t take my eyes off the missing sock or the missing word in an article. Somehow, men will never understand what the fuss is all about. Neither did I when my mum used to nag. I was the first one to scoff. Just the way, my sister scoffs at me now. Life!
Today, when I look back at my Naani’s words, I am sure she must be laughing somewhere up there, asking, “I hope your life is different than mine.” I am still looking for an answer.
What do you think? Is my life different than my naani?
(Picture Credit: From The Internet)