So I've finally settled down in life. I know this because I dress well to impress the maid.
Lady Poonjolai is Tamil but has been in Maharashtra for centuries. She does not drive a taxi, so she might be safe for the time being. Every day, after I'm bathed and fresh as a daisy with combed hair and full breakfast inside stomach, I travel to my workplace. A stressful commute of 30 seconds. I travel by rocket, if you must know.
One of the best things about virtual employment is that you could virtually OB-adichufy all day and no-one will ever know. For instance, I watched Karagatakaran yesterday at work. I shed tears of joy at the vaazhapazha joke. I kept my Outlook and my Excel sheets open though. I'm one of those sincere types.
Lady Poonk is, however, not very convinced about my employment. She suspects I'm a dhadhimaadu (if you are Maharashtrian, I will translate- useless cow). In this land of PhDs where it's difficult to walk without tripping over a scientist, a human who sits on a couch all day with a laptop and makes cabbage in between is not very impressive, is she? Lady Poonk certainly does not think so and I'm sure she feels 'thambi' (M) got a very raw deal indeed.
Since thambi used to do self-cooking and all and never make 'bachelor' type noise when he was living alone, Lady Poonk is mega-impressed by thambi and his gentlamans behaviour. A true gentlamans who deserves plenty of dowry and a wife whose office is not the couch. I've failed her standards in jewelery since bangles on my arms are as rare a sighting as the Yeti. She then enquired discreetly if I'd brought any silver. I cheerfully denied the charge. She then asked me how much the new steel almirah costed. I said I had no idea. Lady Poonk narrowed her eyes and sighed, "So that too has been bought by thambi." As the days pass, it becomes clearer and clearer to Lady Poonk that all I've brought is myself. And that isn't much, considering the fact that thambi is as good as Chitale Bandhu aam barfi (what a Pune-ki-guddi I am).
Since I'm jobless anyway, Lady Poonk thinks I should at least serve some purpose in life by holding conversations with her instead of looking at my laptop. So far, she has informed me about:
a. The Family Line of Lady Poonk
b. Ailments affecting Lady Poonk's feet
c. Ailments affecting Lady Poonk's back
d. Rabid dogs in NCL campus
e. Bathing Habits of Persons in Pune in the cold.
f. Jodi portutham of all newlyweds in NCL
g. Ailments- an Overall Picture
These subjects, while vastly fascinating, are nevertheless difficult to focus on when minor distractions like calls from bossman happen. Lady Poonk cannot fathom (and I do not blame her) how I can choose my imaginary office over her illuminating conversations. I nod politely, I say mmm-mmm, yes yes, oh how sad, periodically, but Lady Poonk believes I ought to take a more active interest. This morning, she came and peered at my screen to find out JUST what in god's name I was doing. Inspiration struck me and I decided that enough was enough. Time to score a point over thambi. So, I got out back issues of the magazines and dazzled Lady Poonk for a bit (you see that story there? Yeah, Lady, I wrote that. You bet I did. Yeah, I'm a genius.) Encouraged by her appreciation, I also showed her all the books I've published. Awe spread over Lady Poonk's face. She declared that I was doing a very difficult job. Almost as difficult as taking cold water bath in Pune when Suffering from Ailments. I've finally convinced her that thambi's wife isn't really just a lump in the landscape.
Lady Poonk is gone for the day, convinced about my hard work. I think I'll watch Baasha now.
The Life and Times of an Indian Homemaker » The interference of parents in the married life of their daughters…