It was a pleasant Saturday morning. And like every other Saturday morning, Reema was early in the kitchen waking the family up to the toasty smell of roasted semolina. The rest of the family slept unusually longer on Saturdays. The rest of the family was her daughter Richa, all of three and her husband Rohit, all of thirty three. She drew the curtains open letting the rays of the warm summer sun kiss their faces gently to wake them up. She sometimes kissed Richa as part of the waking up drill, interspersing the wet sloppy kisses with some sweet banter, promising her the many things that they could do together on this lovely Saturday. These things she recited out of a list she seemed to have memorized in her mind, sometimes even in the same order. But Richa was only three and such acts never failed to amuse her. She used to leap out of the bed wrapping her arms around Reema’s neck, pulling her down with her and then they used to lie there, the three of them, cuddling in bed in between fleece blankets until the cooker in the kitchen or the housekeeping staff at the door or the beeping of the washing machine reminded Reema of the tasks left to do. But today, the Saturday was different. So the list of promises also had to be carefully curated.
It was day 7 of the lockdown, and year 10 of her living in Mumbai – a city she was yet to accept wholeheartedly, the one she always addressed with an aloofness while making conversations, a city that had had distanced her 1200 Kms from her family and much more from her career. Reema was a dentist. She had learnt about her pregnancy a week after having shifted to Mumbai, much against their originals plans of settling down in the new city before starting a family. She felt lost. She distracted herself from this grief of detachment by pouring herself into managing the house and raising Richa without any family support or the help of a caretaker. She put up with all the sleepless nights while Rohit slept comfortably in another room. She woke up the next morning with no remorse and resumed the monotony of her daily tasks. Rohit offered to help on many instances, but it disturbed Reema that she should seek his help on duties that she considered to be solely hers, just like the tasks at Rohit’s office were solely his, not to be substituted or delegated to anyone else, definitely not to Reema. Through these confrontations, it dawned upon Rohit that the tasks at home, even the most menial ones, meant much more to Reema than what met the eye. It gave her a purpose and a strong sense of independence she couldn’t establish now in any other way. This made him feel uncomfortable, at times concerned, but never guilty. This lack of guilt was possibly due to the deep rooted patriarchy that he had witnessed while growing up back in his own home.
It was day 7 of the lockdown, and year 10 of her living in Mumbai – a city she was yet to accept wholeheartedly, the one she always addressed with an aloofness while making conversations, a city that had had distanced her 1200 Kms from her family and much more from her career. Reema was a dentist. She had learnt about her pregnancy a week after having shifted to Mumbai, much against their originals plans of settling down in the new city before starting a family. She felt lost. She distracted herself from this grief of detachment by pouring herself into managing the house and raising Richa without any family support or the help of a caretaker. She put up with all the sleepless nights while Rohit slept comfortably in another room. She woke up the next morning with no remorse and resumed the monotony of her daily tasks. Rohit offered to help on many instances, but it disturbed Reema that she should seek his help on duties that she considered to be solely hers, just like the tasks at Rohit’s office were solely his, not to be substituted or delegated to anyone else, definitely not to Reema. Through these confrontations, it dawned upon Rohit that the tasks at home, even the most menial ones, meant much more to Reema than what met the eye. It gave her a purpose and a strong sense of independence she couldn’t establish now in any other way. This made him feel uncomfortable, at times concerned, but never guilty. This lack of guilt was possibly due to the deep rooted patriarchy that he had witnessed while growing up back in his own home.
With the lockdown enforced, Reema was occupied with even more work while Rohit made up for the lost time with Richa, blowing her balloons, participating in silly games with her stuffed toys, building towers from her Lego set, spending hours moulding clay, playing peek-a-boo and a countless other things he never imagined could bring him so much joy. Many others worked on accomplishing their lockdown bucket list. Reema however passed her days gracelessly. The lack of order left her disconcerted, at times vexed. Yet, she continued with the same amount of dexterity and perseverance she exhibited when she first embraced motherhood. She remembers from those days, the heaps of unwashed cloth diapers, the constant buttery smell in her bedroom where she fed Richa, the new routine or the lack of it, the helplessness when Richa battled her first fever after a shot. It had all left her crumbled. Yet, she had picked herself up piece by piece and built her new self. The new self who braved all the mayhem at home alone - the time when Richa had scribbled on the walls with a colour chalk and Reema had scrubbed it off after an hour of effort, when she had emptied a container of flour making them settle for rice meals until the next weekend, the time when she had choked over a rubber-band she had swallowed and Reema had to stick her finger down her throat before she could cough it out, the time when Richa had fallen off the bed while Reema was in the bathroom, the time when Richa had cried so profusely that she threw up and later slipped in her own vomit, the two days when Reema suffered from acute stomach infection and yet refused to be admitted as it would disrupt life at home. The list was endless. All of this while Rohit was away at work or on business trips which was clearly his universe of responsibility. Such feats earned her the title of being a ‘superwoman’ during conversations with their friends over drinks in the house-parties they often hosted. She wondered if she was being celebrated. She was never one among them. She hated to pose for pictures. You could see her at the far end of the frame holding her glass of juice while others bundled together, raising their glasses filled with alcohol. She preferred celebrating herself through yester years instead. The days when she could let her mind think about possibilities that existed outside the walls of her house or beyond the people that live in it now. About the days when she was slender, more willing to be in front of the camera, smiling vividly.
When Rohit was up, she handed over his cup of tea in the balcony as he sat there reading the latest news on the lockdown which was extended by another three weeks. It was announced on national television just the previous night. This was the new normal. The world said and it echoed. She feared the disorderliness that would now be a constant in her life. Possibly, Rohit would work from home more often. Possibly, Richa would barely go to school and take her lessons virtually. Possibly, she herself would not get to frequent the stores for the household supplies. Instead she would have to wait for them to arrive and sometimes be told that it has run out of stock, making her plans fluid, needing to constantly evolve. Their presence in the house would seldom make it easy to maintain an immaculate house. The lack of domestic help would fill her days with more work, each day taking a piece of her away as she would let herself be consumed for her family. When this period passes by and she looks back at it, it would be a haze. She would have no recollections of Richa growing up as vivid as those from the times before the lockdown. She wouldn’t remember the skills she picked up in this time or her improved speech or the extra inches she gained, for they lived in the same house but in different worlds. She would hop to the other world only when Richa needed a cleaning, or had to be fed or had to be put to sleep. For all other times she was engaged in a task for the larger goal of fulfilling her duties towards her family. She loved to plan, to be in control of the things around her. A plan that could take her to the end and leave her with the feeling of accomplishment, of closure, something firm and definitive. But this one had no end, it was just the beginning, and she feared losing herself yet again.
When Rohit was up, she handed over his cup of tea in the balcony as he sat there reading the latest news on the lockdown which was extended by another three weeks. It was announced on national television just the previous night. This was the new normal. The world said and it echoed. She feared the disorderliness that would now be a constant in her life. Possibly, Rohit would work from home more often. Possibly, Richa would barely go to school and take her lessons virtually. Possibly, she herself would not get to frequent the stores for the household supplies. Instead she would have to wait for them to arrive and sometimes be told that it has run out of stock, making her plans fluid, needing to constantly evolve. Their presence in the house would seldom make it easy to maintain an immaculate house. The lack of domestic help would fill her days with more work, each day taking a piece of her away as she would let herself be consumed for her family. When this period passes by and she looks back at it, it would be a haze. She would have no recollections of Richa growing up as vivid as those from the times before the lockdown. She wouldn’t remember the skills she picked up in this time or her improved speech or the extra inches she gained, for they lived in the same house but in different worlds. She would hop to the other world only when Richa needed a cleaning, or had to be fed or had to be put to sleep. For all other times she was engaged in a task for the larger goal of fulfilling her duties towards her family. She loved to plan, to be in control of the things around her. A plan that could take her to the end and leave her with the feeling of accomplishment, of closure, something firm and definitive. But this one had no end, it was just the beginning, and she feared losing herself yet again.