************************************************************************************************************
I don't know about women, but I guess most men hardly remember their wedding with any fond nostalgia. They go through the rituals as if in a daze.
Same with me.
I remember, after 3 decades and more, every little thing that went on before my marriage and after it, but not the big day itself. I only recall that I met my M-i-L for the first time in my marriage ceremony since she was away at Jalgaon when the bride-seeing ceremony went ahead gloriously. Indeed my wife was never brought up by her mother. My F-i-L was employed in the Indian Railways when my wife was born and was touring North India on duty. So a few months after her birth, the infant was left in the care of her widowed grandpa and his widowed sister whom my wife used to refer to fondly as 'amma'. It was they who brought her up till I took over when she was all of 29. Her parents were just a visiting couple. So her mom was more of a friend to my wife who used to call her mother by her pet name: "Kiddy". That sounded rather weird to me.
A couple of years after my marriage, my F-i-L sadly passed away (I was only partly to blame). And my M-i-L was living with her only son at Jalgaon. And my son was a tiny tot of 2.5 when my wife suddenly developed excruciating abdominal cramps while we were living in the campus of IIT KGP. We met Dr Kohili, the Chief of the Railway Hospital at KGP, and he diagnosed it as appendicitis (he proved himself wrong later when he opened her abdomen...the appendix was quite blameless and it was a burst ovarian cyst that was the culprit).
Dr Kohili gave some Spasmindon tablets and some antibiotics before he could find a slot in his Operation Theater. And the elective surgery was fixed at 20 days after the diagnosis. So we had enough time to plan the event. My wife asked me if she should call her mom from Jalgaon for help during the gruesome surgery...Dr Kohili was known for his cut-and-thrust job...first open and then hunt and poke...
I tried to dissuade my wife saying that we had so many friends in the campus who would help us out, so why bother her mom about as trivial a thing as appendicitis. But my wife felt that her mom would mind if we didn't inform her. So I gave a telegram to Jalgaon (no telephones in the campus then). And got a reply that my M-i-L was eager to be at KGP two good days before the 21st October on which the surgery was scheduled. I said fine though I thought otherwise...with a wife admitted in the hospital for a good 2 weeks, I had to attend to my infant son as well as a mother-in-law.
But it so happened that 5 days before 21st, my wife's condition deteriorated and developed into an overnight emergency. So she was shifted to the Railway Hospital and an on-the-spot surgery was performed on her while my M-i-L was still packing her bags at Jalgaon. My friends and neighbors helped me out wonderfully in taking care of my wife's sick diet, my food and my infant son's, and I was doing the 3 km up-down transport 3 times a days carrying my son in the front basket of my pushbike. My son was naturally terrified at what was with his mom lying down with so many tubes, and so, to keep him quiet, I had filled my pockets with toffees to sooth him as and when he felt bad.
My M-i-L ultimately arrived at the KGP Station where my son and I went to pick her up in a rickshaw. And I broke the news to her that the surgery was already over and we better go first to the Railway Hospital on our way to my Qrs.
And she was dumbfounded:
"What? Why didn't you inform me?"
"There was no time and I was busy"
Her face fell and she felt cheated that the pleasure of admitting her daughter and waiting outside the OT was denied to her by her son-in-law. I then recalled Somerset Maugham's para from his Moon and Sixpence. Maugham was certainly the most powerful prose writer that I read, on par with his Guru, Dostoyevsky. But he was a cynic and so am I. Here is the para (replace 'death-bed' by 'sick-bed'):
The reason why I am silent in my disapproval of Ishani's bringing up by her mom is for fear of this cartoon:
************************************************************************************************************
I don't know about women, but I guess most men hardly remember their wedding with any fond nostalgia. They go through the rituals as if in a daze.
Same with me.
I remember, after 3 decades and more, every little thing that went on before my marriage and after it, but not the big day itself. I only recall that I met my M-i-L for the first time in my marriage ceremony since she was away at Jalgaon when the bride-seeing ceremony went ahead gloriously. Indeed my wife was never brought up by her mother. My F-i-L was employed in the Indian Railways when my wife was born and was touring North India on duty. So a few months after her birth, the infant was left in the care of her widowed grandpa and his widowed sister whom my wife used to refer to fondly as 'amma'. It was they who brought her up till I took over when she was all of 29. Her parents were just a visiting couple. So her mom was more of a friend to my wife who used to call her mother by her pet name: "Kiddy". That sounded rather weird to me.
A couple of years after my marriage, my F-i-L sadly passed away (I was only partly to blame). And my M-i-L was living with her only son at Jalgaon. And my son was a tiny tot of 2.5 when my wife suddenly developed excruciating abdominal cramps while we were living in the campus of IIT KGP. We met Dr Kohili, the Chief of the Railway Hospital at KGP, and he diagnosed it as appendicitis (he proved himself wrong later when he opened her abdomen...the appendix was quite blameless and it was a burst ovarian cyst that was the culprit).
Dr Kohili gave some Spasmindon tablets and some antibiotics before he could find a slot in his Operation Theater. And the elective surgery was fixed at 20 days after the diagnosis. So we had enough time to plan the event. My wife asked me if she should call her mom from Jalgaon for help during the gruesome surgery...Dr Kohili was known for his cut-and-thrust job...first open and then hunt and poke...
I tried to dissuade my wife saying that we had so many friends in the campus who would help us out, so why bother her mom about as trivial a thing as appendicitis. But my wife felt that her mom would mind if we didn't inform her. So I gave a telegram to Jalgaon (no telephones in the campus then). And got a reply that my M-i-L was eager to be at KGP two good days before the 21st October on which the surgery was scheduled. I said fine though I thought otherwise...with a wife admitted in the hospital for a good 2 weeks, I had to attend to my infant son as well as a mother-in-law.
But it so happened that 5 days before 21st, my wife's condition deteriorated and developed into an overnight emergency. So she was shifted to the Railway Hospital and an on-the-spot surgery was performed on her while my M-i-L was still packing her bags at Jalgaon. My friends and neighbors helped me out wonderfully in taking care of my wife's sick diet, my food and my infant son's, and I was doing the 3 km up-down transport 3 times a days carrying my son in the front basket of my pushbike. My son was naturally terrified at what was with his mom lying down with so many tubes, and so, to keep him quiet, I had filled my pockets with toffees to sooth him as and when he felt bad.
My M-i-L ultimately arrived at the KGP Station where my son and I went to pick her up in a rickshaw. And I broke the news to her that the surgery was already over and we better go first to the Railway Hospital on our way to my Qrs.
And she was dumbfounded:
"What? Why didn't you inform me?"
"There was no time and I was busy"
Her face fell and she felt cheated that the pleasure of admitting her daughter and waiting outside the OT was denied to her by her son-in-law. I then recalled Somerset Maugham's para from his Moon and Sixpence. Maugham was certainly the most powerful prose writer that I read, on par with his Guru, Dostoyevsky. But he was a cynic and so am I. Here is the para (replace 'death-bed' by 'sick-bed'):
…I have always been a little
disconcerted by the passion women have for behaving
beautifully at the death-bed of those they love. Sometimes it seems as if
they grudge the longevity which postpones their chance of an effective
scene...
Anyway she had no other go than to get reconciled to no
more than looking after the convalescence of her daughter.
And while she was riding her rickshaw, with me and my
son on my pushbike by her side, my son got fidgety and
I gave him a toffee fetched from my pocket. And my M-i-L
exploded:
"Toffees are bad for children's teeth. Don't you know this
much?"
I, as usual, kept silent and pocketed the rebuke...after all,
she did bear my wife ;)
Her open criticism of my way of bringing up my son
continued for all the month and a half that she stayed with
us then, and many more months later on, till my son's
marriage. Unfortunately she didn't live to see the birth of
her great-grandkid (Ishani) and so lost many more chances...
And now it is my turn to disapprove (silently) the way my
own D-i-L brings up her little kid.
I think she is being too strict with her kid in the matter of
her food, her home work (!), her flamboyance and the
like. I feel (silently) that her mom wants Ishani to go to bed
when she wants to play, and to wake up when she
wants to loll in bed; to eat when she is not hungry, and to
resist when she is...
But the matter in which I differ most with Ishani's mom
(silently again) is her insistence on Ishani's truthfulness
in little little affairs which don't really matter...like if she
already had had a toffee given to her surreptitiously by
her grandpas (on either side).
My own views about this matter can be found in my earlier
blog:
...Lying is natural to kids as they
don't have a clear idea of the holiness of truth. Their whole life is
centered around wants. If a lie quickly gets that toffee they keenly
desire, they find nothing wrong in it...indeed they innovate. A kid that
always tells the truth (as we see it) is either dysfunctional or dull,
lacking imagination...seeing idols instead of gods. No good for a
Teaching Career in Physics...
And of course I feel, like Calvin, that Ishani's mom has eyes at the back of her head too:
...My mother has eyes on the back of her head!
I don’t quite believe it, but that’s what she said.
She explained that she’d been so uniquely endowed
To catch me when I did Things Not Allowed.
I think she must also have eyes on her rear.
I’ve noticed her hindsight is usually clear...
I don’t quite believe it, but that’s what she said.
She explained that she’d been so uniquely endowed
To catch me when I did Things Not Allowed.
I think she must also have eyes on her rear.
I’ve noticed her hindsight is usually clear...
The reason why I am silent in my disapproval of Ishani's bringing up by her mom is for fear of this cartoon:
************************************************************************************************************
No comments:
Post a Comment