I have written extensively about my walks with Papa but never about my experiences with Mummy. Mummy has been quite a champ about this and never complained. The truth is that she and I have way more writable moments and if I documented all our encounters people would be thoroughly entertained. There is never a dull moment with the two of us under the same roof, I kid you not.
Mummy and I complain about each other a lot – like A LOT. We find similar things to whine about. For example, I think she doesn’t give me enough time. She thinks I give all my time to Papa. There’s a grain of truth in both – we don’t spend enough time together and both of us really want to. But inevitably 5 minutes into the conversation leads to an argument about something totally nonsensical and irrelevant. This is mostly true when there are other family members around. So I decided that she and I should have a shopping day out without anyone else. She agreed, and boy what a rocking time we had!
Our first pit stop was the telecommunications office where we wanted to submit an application for the fiber Internet connection. It was lunchtime and barely anyone was around. But we found the head honcho in his office with his assistant who were super nice to us. The application was submitted with the assurance that we would have the fiber connection in two weeks.
On the way to this office Papa had called and suggested that we should get the landline phone disconnected at the same time – it’s too expensive, he said, and we don’t need it as we have cell phones. Mummy had a mini meltdown at this suggestion. She was totally against the idea. It’s the only thing in my name, she said. Everything else including our house, cars, other properties were in Papa’s name. She was loathe to get rid of that legacy. I agreed, albeit for a different reason – we should all have landlines since cell phones are unreliable. But I dare not say that! The legacy thing was more important of course! All women should have a landline in their name. In fact, we should petition the government that men shouldn’t get any landlines at all. Girl power! Just another right that patriarchy has stolen. Down with it! Feminists, are you listening??
After calming Mummy down with the assurance that the landline will continue to exist, come hell or high water, we walked out of the deserted office that looked more like a funeral home or morgue than a legitimate government office. Right next door is a huge shopping bazaar called the “refugee market”. The historical context is obvious – refugees from somewhere (not sure where, Bangladesh?) had established their means of living by setting up relatively reasonably priced shops for daily use items. I remember shopping here since I was little. Mummy and I bought a few things including two maxis for me and a scarf for her.
Among others, there are several shops in this marketplace that sell undergarments for women. It was always hilarious to shop there. The salesmen with their poker faces, the embarrassed shoppers with their awkward body language, the undergarments hanging in full display, and the effort to complete the transaction as quickly as possible – classic ingredients for a cheap stand-up comedy show! The funniest conversation was when the salesman would suggest the proper size of a bra that would fit the woman buying it – a surreptitious glance at the bust was necessary to estimate the correct size. That flick of the eyes was quick – quicker than I could say Jack Robinson – but the expertise and acquired skills were incredible. As a child and then teenager, I often wondered – how did they know for sure? Well, all I can say is that a business is a business is a business – you learn the ropes and nitty gritty with experience. Victoria Secret could learn a lot from them I bet!
Across the street is the hub of the city – the mall called Firayalal’s. Every Ranchi resident will identify with this place. It has been standing there since the beginning of time. The biggest attraction is the ice cream stall on the left side that sold the “Softie” – a cone filled with half melted vanilla ice cream twisted into a spiral. I have eaten ice creams all across the globe. But nothing compares to the softie. There is just something about the flavor, the melting softness, the droplets dripping on the sides of the cone, the first crunch, and the last triangular bit with a tiny speck of ice cream inside – it’s special. Sharing a softie with Mummy made it even more so.
Two adult women standing together vigorously licking ice cream cones in public without a damn care is funny but precious, the stuff that storytellers like me can spin into a tale. When was the last time you took a parent out for ice cream, just the two of you?
We are never too busy to share an ice cream moment with a parent. We are never too busy for a joyful childlike activity with a parent. We are never too busy to let our hair down with a parent. We are never too busy to rejoice in recreating a childhood memory with a parent. We are never too busy……for a parent.
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