holding two jobs

i do, she does, she1 does, she2 does, she3 does... it is so common that we have stopped talking about it...

we are so used to multi-tasking (make it for an appointment, fix the lunch before going, pick up child on the way back, lay down the lunch, think about the headline for the next story, write 500 words while the child has her lunch, settle her evening studies, leave for an evening assignment... instruct the cook over phone)... that this is all in a day's work... and believe me, this is no big deal since, ever since the day i became a mother, i have been managing life this way... and i love it too...

now the story from the other side... way back in 1992, i was with a fortnightly magazine which had alternate weeks of heavy and light... Dad had come to Mumbai on work, and coincidentally, it was my heavy week... so B, who came home on his usual time, found that there was not enough food for three... and cooked... those days, we cooked equally well (or bad)... i came home to a meal laid out at 10 in the night... and there were smiles on both the most important men in my life... Dad because, he was assured of my choice of a life partner, B because he had been delighted to cook some recipe i had taught him...and in my next visit home, i heard about the great son-in-law that the family had, though none were responsible for this... while i was happy, i could not but help asking myself, why make such a great deal out of it?...

in 2008, today things haven't got any different... we still run around more since it is we have chosen to do it this way, not opting to be just home-makers (i would be the first home-breaker if i had been at home 24 hours!!)... the only difference that has not waned is when the man has to take turns and do something which is outside his work... he may be does it even willingly, but the people around him make it sound and look like a BIG, HUGE favour while he is just being human... get the point?

fragile egos... stay off Grrrrrr...

driving is about style, about perfection, about decisions taken on time, which are true all over the world...
here in the desert land, it is to do with boisterousness also since every driver has massive egos, but sadly all fragile...
everybody is in a rush, as if by saving some mili-seconds they will win a gold, or the gas cartel will not happen by their being late... each one has to reach ahead of the others... where to, is not known...
when the entire city can be covered with sober driving in flat one hour thirty minutes, what the rush, the tearing hurry is all about only madmen know...
when entering B ring road from a service lane this morning, i swerved fast enough to keep safe distance from the four wheel behind me... the man got damn annoyed, crossed lanes, overtook me from the right and landed before me... held by the signal, he drove just ahead of me and in the next signal, while merging on C ring road, i cut fast into the first lane, while our man was on the second... he felt defeated and again did a repeat of what he had done earlier...
and let me tell you, he is not the one of his kind here...

managing me alone...

it sounds like a cull out from a 'how to' site or about.com... but that is my problem right now... i am bored since i cannot be reading... there is a certain dryness in the eyes for which i need to rest it awile, the doc says... i can hear you saying, "so why blog then?"... but tell me then the way out... i tried lying down, i cannot sleep; i switched on the TV, have watched the news for a while on all the channels... BBC World (that is showing semething on vacations), CNN (what else but the democratic convention at Denver), Al Jazeera (Somalia, Russia vs Georgia, latest in Zimbabwe), NDTV(Kashmir, Singur)... none of which, beyond information, does anything more... cannot watch soaps, music channels have the latest music but i do not have the ear for that, am tired of the music on my iPod (have to download new ones)...
R is glued to one of the teeny bopper channels, B is gone for an office do... so what do i do? am thinking of going for a walk alone at the Corniche... i tried talking R into it, but she is lukewarm...
will tell you later what i did with myself... or else wil plunder into YouTube... Eureka... got it!!

life then... life now

life then:
1. full of care from parents and seemingly doting relatives, i craved for privacy;
2. craved for more money to buy that odd dress or that odd book;
3. wanted a home for myself, where my writ would run;
4. wanted to prove myself to the world;
5. wanted to grow up fast and be on my own, so that i could have all the fun possible;
6. had little responsibility and commitments, wanted to have all those big cares;

life now:
1. have all the privacy the world can give, but no caring parents to look after me;
2. have money, but commensurately less desire to possess things;
3. have two houses, which are locked... one home in which we live far away from our native land;
4. have done many of the things i wanted to do, but lots more, all new things that i want to do now... but all these are for myself, not for the world;
5. have grown up, grown old... but realised that growing up is no fun;
6. only have responsibility and commitments... want that carefree state back, which will not be possible;

strange, am i? or normal?...

packet full of... REAL LIFE

back in 2006, when we had gone home for a month, time flew... social visits took a large dose of time, as is always the case, though i have not-very-successfully trimmed the number of social calls that we are supposed to make, over time... and all for the sake of my Mom, who still feels that her world will collapse without those calls, though such calls are never reciprocated... none of the others visiting the city bother to call on her... yet she feels that we should... what will relatives think about you? i have not been able to convince her that it does not matter what they think of me... i am past 40, have my own life, as they have theirs... so it does not matter what they think of me and us... either way is fine with me... but she is insistent and to my utter indignation, she goes ahead and fixes the programme, lunch with uncle A, tea with aunt C, dinner with cousin X...but only limited to those days when i am all hers...
so after meeting some relatives who mom feels are very very close to her, it was almost time for me to get back...
she handed me a packet and said, "these are for you to go back and read... don't open them now. and after you have read them, throw them away."
short of time, i obeyed for once without trying to negotiate...
got back, settled, joined work, but that packet kept intriguiging me...
opened the packet... it had two sets of old letters... one set written by my Dad to my Mom, way back in 1960 when they were married and the other set, the replies...
i started reading them... so matter-of-fact, so down-to-earth, so mature was the tone of my Dad... my Mom, on the other hand, i could understand from her replies, could have done with a little bit of mush from her husband, but could not achieve it... and after a while stopped asking for it...
48 years back, possibly that was what romance was between two just-married souls...
for me, i have kept them back as safely as i can, no Mom has never asked about them...
i will take it to grave with me, will tell R when she grows since no one else will understand the spirit of those letters...

my fair lady!

mine only Joan Baez... i am foolishly possessive of her... she is the world's not mine alone, but secretly i possess her as one of my most coveted assets...
it does not matter that she does not even know of my existence, the moments i alone spend with her singing all my favourite songs... and each day, each time i hear her, her rich, deep voice gives me goose bumps, eggs me on to live one more day in the company of her voice and helps me tide over all the depths of my troubles...
she has been famous mostly for her music, but not any less famous because of her ex-boyfriend, bob dylan...
and to top it all, she has an amazing appearance... she is cool, yet very dignified; smart, yet very contemporary; she endorses causes, but does not seem overly emotional; participative in a concert, but does not overdo it... she draws a line somewhere and to me, she is something we cannot at all touch... she has an aura, an invisible halo... all of which adds to the persona of this fabulous lady... keep on my fair lady!

mr raisinghani and his excellent PR

i don't know why i recall him today after so may years... last i met him was way back in 1997... spoken to him last in 1998...10 good years...
he was an ex-employee of one one of the best financial institutions and i met him when i joined the same company, aeons after he had retired... he was introduced to me by one of the long-timers in the department... he had come with some insurance policy that he had managed to sell her... he looked a man in his 60s, a short, stalky man, with an untidy rubber brief case (possibly as old as himself), which had all the investment details of many people like my ex-colleague, with thick heavy glasses...
i gathered that he was an insurance agent and took a guarded stand, determined not to let go off my guard in the face of his charms... no way was i going to invest according to his recommendations...
but unknowingly, i began investing in policies (which i service even today and he still gets the commission, if he is still around)... company deposits, mutual funds... to the extent that he soon began coming home to impress upon the need of investment to B who was and is still least interested in any savings...
the last straw in the camel's back was when i returned from my maternity leave, joined back work... mr raisinhgani now had a new reason to convince me and us to save and invest more... we had R to raise, educate and marry off, he told us... when it did not cut much ice, he decided to do what a Sindhi (no i am not community-attacking) will never do... came home, saw R, carried her briefly and shoved a currency note in her hand, with the plea to invest that in a mutual fund in R's name... "Start now, so that when she grows, you need not worry," said he and was gone from our home while we were to stumped to tell him to wait... so quick was his exit... while R was nicely chewing the dirty paper that he had placed on her hand...

a sketch II

i love to: drive, try out new cars, sort papers, throw useless stuff, chocolates, old photographs, get lost in good old memory, go on vacation, live by a routine set by me only, talk straight, try out cuisine, sink in cheese (though i should not), go on my night walk (i mean walk after dinner, not sleep walking silly)...

i hate to: indulge in pettycoat politics, live out of a suitcase, same food every day, talking behind people's back, scheme and do things...

an empty box keeps an empty heart going

Long time ago, a friend of mine punished her four-year-old son for wasting a roll of gold wrapping paper.
Money was tight and she became infuriated when the small child tried to decorate a box to put under the tree.
Nevertheless the little boy brought the gift to his mother the next morning and said, "This is for you Mummy." Empty.
"Don't you know when you give someone a present there's supposed to be something inside of it???" said my friend.
The little boy looked up at her with tears in his eyes and said, "Oh Mummy it's not empty, I blew kisses into the box, all for you Mummy."
The mother was crushed. She put her arms around her little boy, and she begged him for forgiveness. My friend told me that he kept that gold box near her bed.
Whenever she was discouraged, she would take out an imaginary kiss and remember the love of the child who had put it there...
now the child has grown, moved shores and forgotten all about that box... but his mother still has kept it and fondles it when she misses her son too much...

job or money... which is more important?

as to most questions, there, to my mind, cannot be a straight answer to this one... while one certainly cannot stick on to a job if the quality of the engagement is totally below par, the monetary aspect cannot be ruled out altogether since one single cause of attrition is the push factor from a job (with a low monetary reward) and pull factor from another job (with higher rewards)...
the ideal (and to that extent) rare coincidence is a balance of both...great feeling on the job and cushy salary... it happens but rarely...
i have had the occasion to work with quite a few top shots of companies... seeing them work, i have had my own take... why not begin life as the head of a company (since, in any case, most of these guys do less work than their able advisers) when the need of money is much more, the chances of enjoying life (with good health to boot) is much higher than at 55 when one hardly sees with one eye and walks on one leg?... 55 should be the age when one can afford to have a sidey function, with most ambitions met, most of the world seen, most food not allowed, life lived... preposterous??? may be, but that is my view, so what if it not realistic?
for myself, earlier in life, i have done jobs which i would not be able to do today, but that was mostly for the money i needed then... yes, i need money even today, but have become far more choosy on what i want to do and what i would not, even for a day, irrespective of the money that comes...
today, i want more private time, great quality of work, comfortable ambience with great people around, good entertainment, +++ loads of money... any takers???

my money, mine; his money, ours

the other day, while sorting out papers, B, as usual could not locate something he was looking for... when i sorted them out for him, he asked me, "how healthy are my savings?"...
i told him, "ours is XXXX; mine is YYYY"...
the look of his eyes said only two words, " SELFISHLY DISHONEST"... all caps, bold, in 24 points... but mellowed instantly, since he, by now, knows the extent of how selfish or dishonest i can get...

rolling stones

that's B, me and R...
thanks to B's frequent job changes, we have never stayed in one city for long...this is our sixth location, third country, 12th home, all in 17+ years.
while one way of looking at it is the short-period changes that happen in life, every now and then, there is a movement fatigue that has come up... i dread packing, R dreads a new school (her current refrain is she is tired at being new in her school), i have lost the urge of decking up the home (since for how long is that to be the home is not known), R is sick of making new friends (since whenever she talks of a friend, i cannot place where that friend is and she gets upset, saying, "you have no interest in my friends")...one more complaint...
surprisingly, one person is totally unfazed by all of this... the cause, mr B... he gets bored of the same job, same boss, same routine, same place, same roads to drive on, same restaurants to go to every weekend... he was a bohemian in his last birth...
how has he stuck on with the same wife for 17+ years is what i have not understood... am i too great? or is he unversatile? i do not know...

my life tonics

apart from alcohol, there are three catalysts that put me on a high, in exact sequence -- books, music and people i love...
books for me are the eternal companion, the eternal cushion, the eternal giver... it kindles thoughts, it teaches me language, it fuels my imagination, it allows me to forget my troubles, it gives me peace... i spend the most time (duration, wise) with books...
music, again gives me my space since i prefer to listen to music alone... i cannot concentrate when music plays on the system and a whole home listens to it... i need my privacy with music... this is freedom for me, to listen one piece n times, to go back to it after a while, without anyone commenting...
people i love... given the fact that i have left home (where i was bred, though not born) good many years, i have grown up and apart from my kith and kin, many of whom i am not in touch any more since the interest on both sides has waned and the composition of the crowd in my life (no i do not have a very crowded life)has completely changed...i have picked up people with whom i have gelled well (for me, this is a looooong process since i take a longer to get familiar with people)and grown to like and eventually love... few and far between, such people give me enough reason for wanting to live moments with them... a phone call, a meeting, a long conversation (real or virtual)... these give me enough tonic to carry on... renew my faith in human relations, in bonding, in pure emotions... and all such bonds i have grown over the years, are not related to me in the social definition... they are all friends, who have given me enough and more reason to love them...

why am i not doing what i am not doing???

my thought matrix is more or less well laid out... i have definite and strong opinions on most things... i can clearly say and feel what i like and what i do not like...
for instance, i definitely like comfort, but autobiographically, have had to struggle and earn whatever comfort i have in life... and let me tell you, nothing came easy... i have had to hang out of trains in Mumbai travelling every day to Thane, a clean three hours per day, have had to request seniors to escort me down the lift from my 14th floor office late in the night since i was too scared to take the lift alone, run home from the city to the suburbs to be able to pick my toddler from the creche, lest she feels sleepy before her time...
but the fact that i could do all this and more was because that was a choice i made early on that it is a lot more respectable to earn one's own pie before spending it... the freedom that comes with it, the non-accountablility that one has are all later feels, i think... what precedes is the free will to choose... and for that my parents are responsible... it is they who taught me how to make the correct choice... later to be supplemented by my husband... who did not himself take any short-cuts...
the point of this post is however nothing that i have done... it is what i am not able to do for R, as a mother... i need to be more focused when i lay out choices before her so that in her day and time, she can make the right choices, but somewhere i feel, why allow her to struggle? anyways she has to in later life... let her have things on a platter now... i do not think my parents had that dialogue within themselves... they were decided that we, brother and sister, had to earn (be it better grades while we were students or be it money that we would ultimately inherit) to enjoy... so we were not given any easy way outs... why am i not being able to do that for R? why am i lenient when it comes to giving her a harder alternative?

meaning of love

man returns after a hard day's labour... his eyes meets those of his wife and pat he asks, "what is wrong? have they (meaning his daughter and son) something?"...
the daughter wondered how can the man make out that something is wrong just as he sees his wife?
now well into midlife, the scene is like this in the daughter's home. her husband returns from work. most of the days, it is she who opens the door as he gets back from work. their eyes meet and she gets the same comfort when he looks straight into her eyes and can make out if something is wrong... now she gets the answer to her question about her dad...
for the daughter this is love... of getting undescribable comfort... but she has realised that it takes an aweful lot of hard work to attain that comfort... for them, it has taken a little above 23 years to juggle with their differences and still hold frimly on to each other... now they can pride themselves on shared memories (and no not all are pleasant)... but they have learnt to handle unpleasantness too...
they have grown up together, and are now growing old together... for them, it is the togetherness that has mattered... so much so that the girl has not budged from her husband's side as he switched jobs, moved cities and countries... and he, on his part, has been the constant shoulder for her to lean on...

gift with the price tag

this is something i routinely get... gifts, given with all honest intentions, but without care to remove the price tag... and needless to say, i get extremely irritated.
how can one gift somebody letting her/him know the price? why gift in the first place then?
to me gifts are a way of showing affection and saying, "i care about you." how can that come with the price that the giver paid for it?
now i understand why so many finishing schools are mushrooming all over... there are always people who need to be groomed in small things... and it is these small things that go a long mile in telling the world about finesse, which does matter, to me at least...

three loners

we are following a routine now, for a change... once dinner is over, we head towards the Corniche for a walk... it is hot, no doubt, but not unbearable... so one hour of walking after dinner is what we are doing...
once we park, we become three separate units... R and me with our respective iPods, water bottles in hand and B, with a stealthy smoke... we start off from opposite the Emiri Diwan... and we are not the only apparently fragmented family... many Doha-ites are there at that hour, recapitulating the day, strategising the next... it is only the younger lot that fawn over each other, hold hands and coo in each other's ears...
for all the sweat that we work up, it is great to get back to the car...
the only ones who keep working overtime in this heat are the sprinklers alongside Corniche... so when after a quick bath, i hit the bed, R commented, "the sprinklers are still spraying water so that we can see the patch perfect"...
my feeling lil girl...

my wish for you

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

-- Bob Dylan wrote in 1973...

eye candy

i have a weakness for looks but right now, the candy i am talking about is not any man (about that later, in total secrecy)... but the H3 Limousine...
gas guzzler it is, box-shaped it is, unweildy it is, but which Limousine is not?
i still love the H3 Limousine... so on my way from the bank, i drive slow to check out two such beauties parked... actually i oggle at them... without remorse...

bane of the mane

i have never been happy with my mane...
when i had waist-length, thick black, silky hair, i yearned to chop it...
when i started losing hair, i promptly chopped it... in stages... slowly reducing the length to the point that from the back, if one just saw the head, it was difficult to identify the she from the he...
with length, when i started greying early, i have gone on colouring the hair... so i have sported the ferocious burgundy, to the tamer brown to the natural black...
now that i have precisely 1/10 of what i started with, i still cannot decide whether to leave it shoulder length or do a Persis Khambatta with it... just BTW, i do not have that picture perfect Persis frame... so you know what holds me back?

mom's day out

today i had taken off... the initial justification was i wanted to be with R, take her out (well incidentally she finds the summer camp that she was going to boring, so we haven't goaded her, afterall the camp she had chosen and if she does not find it interesting, no point)... so she is home alone while we are at work... but luckily this girl finds it ok, if not fine...
we went mall hopping, doing some trinket shopping, some window shopping... an all through we both were on a high... joking, making fun of people around, and most of the times, it was R who was leading the laughter brigade...
came home refreshed, instead of being tired... so it was my day out instead of her's... life's come a full circle, i would say since those days of my running back from office at Ballard Estate to Andheri to fetch a little R from the creche are over... it was excatly then that i started greying, out of sheer stress, just at 31...

the lullaby my Dad sang when i barely could talk or walk...

We shall overcome
We shall overcome
We shall overcome some day

Oh, deep in my heart
I do believe
We shall overcome some day

We'll walk hand in hand
We'll walk hand in hand
We'll walk hand in hand some day

We shall all be free
We shall all be free
We shall all be free some day

We are not afraid
We are not afraid
We are not afraid some day

We are not alone
We are not alone
We are not alone some day

The whole wide world around
The whole wide world around
The whole wide world around some day


We shall overcome
We shall overcome
We shall overcome some day

... while instilling all that this song has said deep in me, you missed teaching me how to live without you, Dad...

50th post, but an angry one... so what???

half century... not bad.
but right now i am angry beyond words... someone i know (well, we are related too), talks to me after good eight years (i can recall the day we last saw each other)... younger to me, this lady is doing well in life... settled in a cushy job, got married, has a child... but can't get rid of inquisitiveness... after having got in touch with me via a social networking site, this dame goes through my album and pat asks the question, "what is the nature of your job?" when it is all there in the same site where she spotted me...
now you know why i love the desert i am in? here i am anonymous, no one evinces any interest, and i am not over-eager to talk about myself... certainly not to people with whom i have sort of lost connection, over the years... and yes, i think i have conveyed my displeasure in being asked personal questions... how could i not...

how do i pray?

last month, we had an interesting article in one of our magazines..."in conversation with God"... and the writer asked some people what is the one question that each would ask had they met God... i found the idea fascinating.
a similar ring was there in "Palace of Desire", by Naguib Mahfouz, where one of the characters waits to pray only when he is alone since for him, praying is a process in which the heart, spirit and intellect are all involved... lofty idea, and puristic thought for me since i am not one of those who can follow any laid-down norms, something in which i did not have an involvement, prayer included...
i pray silently, whenever i want, without making ANY show of it since for me it is extremely private... it is just between the creator and me... no one needs to know that i am praying...
one thing i have wondered at is: how many pious people are actually good human beings? means do all pious people go out of their way to help someone in distress? i have my doubts... since many of them, i have seen, do not bother to have a kind word even, let alone help monetarily... though again charity should be a private thing... there is no point in doing charity and shouting about it from the roof top...
for me, prayer is something that should help in the evolution of the self... if that is achieved, a lot is.

eternal migration

i was tempted to write "victims of" in the heading but have abstained for the time being...
i mean us, the women, regardless of the country of our birth, we are born into a family, raised there and in adulthood married to another family, with the expectation that we will strike roots immediately... that's the first huge change in our lives... everything from the people to the surroundings to as mundane things as food, habits, all are different...
we adjust in silence... i mean the effort, in most cases, does not show... it is not supposed to... though, in all fairness, even the new family adjusts to the newcomer, but by sheer methematical sense, while the newcomer adjusts to an entire family, that entire family takes in only one new member... so the emotional and physical effort is more for us... the most painful aspect of this transition is the attitude of our own ilk... since all women have done this, so the pain of the new person is never appreciated... mental migration, i call it.
then comes childbirth... the process is long enough... nine months of new feelings every day and the person closest to us (our husbands) cannot feel anything since they are not going thorough the same things... then the actual birth... with the new bundle of joy comes the challenge of understanding what that tiny one is trying to say by just one language -- crying... is it hunger? is it colic pain? is it painful bowels/urine?... maternal instinct in demand... nights and days become one while trying to make the tiny tot grow, get the neck stiff, balance while she is trying to sit, crawl (mine crawled backwards first... what the hell, we thought???)... stand, walk... endless changes... till we live...
added to all these are job changes of the better halves, new locations... again adjustment in a jiffy, set the home, adjust the kid to the new surroundings, new school... and get back to work, most often even look for a job anew...
going by all of these, should we not celebrate ourselves a little more? think of it, folks.

looking back doesn't help always

i have realised this now... but not when, back in childhood, we never went back to a certain place we had stayed long enough to have fond memories. the logic was, we would not be able to relive those moments... people change, Dad said, so the revisit would only leave us crest fallen...
the hope with which we look back, the nostalgia that we cherish is only good for the memory... it is best not to rekindle hopes of getting the same flavour back with those same people, since people change...
i tried to link up with lost friends, many a times, in the hope that i would have the same feeling when the relationship was initially there... in no case has it happened that i could savour the same flavour... possbly the miles we walk thorough life leave indelible impressions on the psyche, so either the friend you rediscover cannot excite your thoughts any longer or has become so very different that the original wave length is lost... and let's not forget, he/she may be feeling the same about you... afterall, people change...

a dozen+ wishes

over time, i would like to have a more facile pen
over time, i would like to have read many more books
over time, i would want to be more patient
over time, i would want to be a better mother
over time, i would like to be a better wife
over time, i would like to nag less
over time, i would like to have seen more of the world
over time, i would like to have lesser expectations from everybody
over time, i would like not to be surprised with anything/body
over time, i would like to forgive
over time, i would like to forget
over time, i would want to be sufficient enough to be alone
over time, i want to master the art of falling asleep as soon as i hit the bed
... all these in no particular order

king of jargons

that is PR, our teacher, who taught us Sociology... actually he taught us thinking, he showed new directions for our under-graduate and post-graduate studies... now i think, he taught us how to live...very very modern, this dhoti-clad, bald-headed professor was and still is extremely contemporary...
like a teacher, he wanted most of his students to get into teaching, but never stopped any one from doing what he/she wanted, so when i moved cities after marriage (to another student of his) and started working, he kept mum...
some things he said have stayed on with me like "growing up is agonising"... what the heck we thought when he said this... now i know how true that can get.
"every choice includes an exclusion"... jargons, thought we... now i realise, this is life...
whenever i write, i think what would this teacher of mine have said if he were to read my writings?
he would smile, i know, but with many of my writings, because we do not take any positions, any slants, he would not comment...
that is possibly the difference between a teacher and a journo... it is a difference in paradigm... jargon again? ahem, ahem...

who am i? i know, but i want everyone to know too

we walk into a party. the hostess, decked up in a sari, comes ahead, gives me a warm hug, settles me down to a juice and starts the introduction... "mrs B", "mrs K", "mrs S"... and herself as "mrs M". while it is equal treatment for all the women present, none of them even faintly protested and said, "i am...". did those women not have names? or their names were any less than that of their husbands?
i could not keep quiet for very long and said in the next flow of introductions, "i am ..., work as a journalist."
one woman asked me, "journalist? and your husband?" before i could open my mouth, mrs m came to my rescue and said, "she is mrs B."
so when the third round of introduction started, i decided to put both the things together and said, "i am..., am a journalist and my husband is B... there that tall guy with the specs." needless to say, the last bit was what registered and the two other bits of information were lost.
anger is a modest term to describe what i felt... until one little girl comes and asks me, "are you A's mother? she asked me to ask you for her scarf."
to this little girl, i was "A's mother", to their mothers, i was nameless "mrs B"... where the hell was i?
and to top it all, B introduces me to someone as "my wife"... when i loudly butted in and said, "i have a name too and that is..."