Asmita was your typical Indian mother. Guests were
gods and friends of her children avatars of God. The household pulled out all
stops when the young people came visiting. Not only would all the domestic services
be pressed into action, family members took time out to be social around the
visitors. The best of snacks would be served in the fanciest of cutlery. The
farthest nook of the pantry would be dredged up to rustle every possible snack.
“Girija, pull out the dry fruits and slice some apple. Isn’t there something in
the freezer, are the sausages over? Steam them quickly,” the help at home was
used to the drill.
Smiti bustled around the dining table while her
friend Saurabh flicked his phone screen. “Mum, why don’t you let the eats be,
he will help himself if he wants to,” Smiti’s voice held a speck of
exasperation.
“Come, come…try the chips Saurabh. Would you care
for some fruit juice?” Asmita was unfazed by the lack of response from their
guest. A lifetime of conditioning had rendered her incapable of registering
anything but gratitude for hospitality. One corner of her mind did curl at a
certain look that passed between her daughter and the boy but the generic focus
on playing a role did not permit any great realization.
“How are your parents? Where do they live? What does
your father do?” went her one way friendliness, articulated to put the guest at
ease. Saurabh had begun to shift, his
chair scraping a few times. The smile was in place but his hair had begun to
lose its shape. He lowered his head a little, the spectacle frames screening
his gaze safely.
“Smiti, would your friend prefer lemonade? Ask him
to stay back for dinner. Where is he going to go eating now, his roommate is
out of station as it is.” A quick dash into the kitchen to brief the cook and
Asmita was back with the guest, “Twenty minutes, the food will be on the
table. Would you like to freshen up?”
Smiti led him away in the direction of the bathroom.
There was the sound of urgent whispers, almost a verbal duel. “Are they
arguing?” the mother knit her brows, quickly dismissing the thought , “Can’t
be, they are such sweet kids. It is so wonderful to meet friends of our
children, we must make them feel at home. It builds faith and trust and
communication with the young people.”
“Auntie, I will be making a move. It is getting late
and I have an exam to give tomorrow,” Saurabh had begun to edge towards the
front door.
“You don’t 'give' an exam beta, you 'take' an exam,”
Asmita smiled her indulgence. Two pairs of eyes met again over her happy
head. “Do come again!” she trailed after
the pair to the lawn gate.
“Mum, I will just walk him to the bike,” Smiti
forced a smile at her mother. Asmita nodded encouragingly and held back a little, all the time staying in their line
of vision. In a few moments, the mother daughter pair was strolling back into
the house. “Mum, I need to get going, there is a workshop planned at college,” Smiti
escaped into her room and within seconds, her ‘getting ready’ music had come
on, audible through the door.
Asmita was still gathering up after Saurabh when an
angry vibration startled her. Smiti’s phone was protesting. Just as she lifted
it, the screen lit up, “Dude, your Mum is painful, too much formality man…not
meeting you at home ever again!”
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