War And Peace
When I stay with my parents I am never in need of setting any alarms. Mom is the first to wake up and switch on Sanksar or Tirumala TV. Dad follows in an hour mostly. I don’t know if it’s planned or if it’s some cosmic miracle, but I am always woken up by the sound of their verbal fights and the sounds of vessels clanging around the kitchen. I am so used to it now that I don’t even look at the time, I know it’s 7:30 in the morning.
Similarly, I woke up one morning, got done with my morning ablutions and entered the kitchen. The house was at peace, I realised that it is 7:45 now. Both of them were exhausted and taking rest after their initial bout. Both my parents are hitting their sixties, so a bout lasts only for 15 mins these days. Back in the time when we stayed in Chennai, even I used to get awestruck by their mental fortitude and stamina.
Dad was preparing Koorka (Chinese potato) for lunch which is quite a rage in Kerala. I was roaming around the house for no reason for sometime. Due to my exceptional fitness levels, after a 5 min walk, my legs had given up and I sat on the chair with my legs outstretched to the maximum possible distance from the chair.
I think there is some IoT device embedded in every mother’s head, where a signal is triggered as soon as the son rests his ass somewhere.
“Easwar, will you make the morning tea for us?” said my mother.
“No”, I said.
“You are really good at it! I can’t make tea as good as you do.”
“I will settle for a morning tea that isn’t as good as the one I make.”
“It’s like your father directly gave birth to you like an amoeba, dna has been exactly copied, you have inherited all his uselessness.”
“What did I do?” asked my father still stirring the koorka in low flame, who until now was proud of his own ability to be a mere spectator in the confrontation between the son and the mother.
“What — What did I do? I have to do everything in this house. How long has it been since you started making koorka?” she said.
25 years into the marriage my father had learnt a few life hacks. A household chore that is completed on or before the mandated deadline is always rewarded with another household chore.
Dad is a mechanical engineer by profession and worked in a company that supplied parts to Ashok Leyland. His primary task was to ensure the end to end lifecycle of the production. When he comes to cook in the kitchen, he brings with him the same qualities that he expects in the factory.
“Cut the carrot into 1mm:3mm parts, maintain the rasam at 80 degree centigrade.”
Dad is a good cook and everything, but the problem is that he expects 863 assistants to help him cook, probably after years of managing at work, even in the kitchen he can’t help but only manage, and I his paavam apprentice.
Only now did I realise that my home always gives away a feeling of the frontlines of Kaargil. Probably every home does. I sometimes wonder how I even managed to pass the 12th boards in this atmosphere. Only later did I realise that I was born into it. College and work came later where I had to stay alone. Meeting my parents in this period was mostly during the holidays where nothing much had to be done.
This reminds me of a speech by Osho, which I am paraphrasing,
“A man walks in a field at midnight during a new moon. It’s pitch dark and he can see nothing around him. He keeps walking not knowing what is around him. And suddenly there is a flash of lightning. Now he sees the mountains around, a field full of lilies and a stream flowing nearby. The lightning goes away, and so does the light. He can no longer see what is around him, but now he is no longer the same person anymore.”