Mother’s responsibilities
* Housewife * Cook * Tailor * Watchman * Laundry lady * Teacher
Everyone born into this time and space arrangement carries responsibilities of some kind. Children are naturally exempt until they start schooling. ‘No painter’s brush or poet’s pen in justice to her fame has ever reached half high enough to write a mother’s name’. Mother in other words carries enormous responsibilities minus the credit attached to her tasks.
Browsing through my archaic collection of literal gems, I picked up an essay my daughter had written at the age of 12. Highlighting mother’s experience as a housewife she had managed to enrich the essay with wit and fact where many tend to forget the accountability of a mother.
Under the caption, ‘a day in the life of a housewife’ she had put pen to paper, thus: ‘To be a housewife means to be always on toes attending to endless chores and yet there is an immense pleasure worth all the trouble’, says my mom’.
Read moreVarious professions
‘It is 10.00 pm, her eyelids are heavy with sleep, yet seated on my bed, browsing through a glossy magazine she comes across an interesting account of a glamourous female - what does she do the whole day? Mother tells me how her 24 hours fly, as a housewife, practising various professions of cook, tailor, watchman, laundry lady, teacher, accountant, public relations officer - a multi professional occupation all taken for granted!’
‘Take today for instance’, she continues, ‘take any day for that matter. Is it not packed with events? This morning I woke up at 6 am, not much time for any dental care either, just hurried and rushed to my workshop, the kitchen’. ‘Next couple of hours was hectic with a variety of jobs from breakfast preparations and sandwiches to be packed into lunch boxes. In the rush, SOS signals from you and brother filled the air’. She reminds me how I was desperate: “Mamma where is my pen? “ “Why did you tidy up my table I can’t find a thing.... that was your brother”, she says. ‘Everyone is after me and I always get the blame’, she smiles.
Washing machine
When we left home, she tells me, she was fagged out. ‘Could I sit for a moment? She questions me? No. You could see the mess in your rooms. Like a cyclone had swept across! Books and posters, wet and dry towels on beds, cricket balls and bats scattered all over, beds unmade. Because I am at home and attend to everything, you guys don’t lift a finger. I tell you this now, tomorrow I bet, still I have to do it all over again’!
‘Ding dong’ went the door bell next’, she tells me. That was the milkman to collect money. ‘Trr.....ng, trr........ng the telephone rings next. I saw a pile of soiled clothes in the cane basket and chucked them into the washing machine. Thanks to whoever discovered my washing machine I have mastered the art of washing clothes’, she exclaims.
‘When I was contemplating what to do after that, next-door neighbour Eric Uncle brought some runner beans from his garden. He sat on a cup of ‘Ceylon tea’. As an Englishman he loves our tea. He was not in a hurry. He is retired and has all the time in the world but I’, she looks at me with sharp open eyes.
‘Tr....ng Tr.....ng again. Damn the telephone’. She thought unkindly of Graham Bell, she says when Ding Dong went the doorbell next and it was the postman. The minute I closed the door someone pressed the bell again. I peeped through the magic eye of the door, what did I see? A man with a bag - a suspicious character! I remembered the news flash on TV - an armed burglar stabs housewife and runs away, Oh Gosh!
Phone calls
‘He pressed continuously and I half opened the door to realise he was the plumber who came to unblock the kitchen sink’. Then she describes how she had to attend to his needs including making cups of tea. ‘I was simply exhausted’ she states.
‘When he left, I was hungry and entered the kitchen to see what was there to munch. Ding dong again and who could that be this time? She had opened the door and there was her good friend all the way from Australia, unexpected, with a mountain of baggage with gangling air tags. “I knew you would be at home dear. Thank God! You lucky thing - housewife...... always at home ha’! That’s good, I am famished. The whole morning I was at the airport. Can you give me a good cuppa darling?” Mum says she welcomed her and ran to the kitchen muttering to herself ‘Bloody Cheek’!
‘The baking, the stitching and the reading - everything remained untouched, even the washing up of cups and dishes also had to be done. You can just guess the rest, cant you’? She says.
We all had lunch only after I returned from school equally starving. Then, at least, mum didn’t have to answer the phone calls or the doorbell, but the idea of having to prepare afternoon tea and cook dinner for the guest made her day a fully-packed one.
‘What do you think of my unpaid job darling? I had planned to do something but ended up doing something entirely different. Woman proposes and God disposes ha!’
‘Well! Tomorrow is yet another day and I guess I will have to repeat the performance all over again and the day after and after.......,’ she utters in a lovingly manner.
“Mama dear, it’s your own choice to live in London, you could live like a queen in Sri Lanka, can’t you?”, I whispered in her ear as she was dozing off to sleep.’
Courtesy - Daily News
