Online Now

January 29, 2011

Hero Ranger Cycle - Part 2

(Disclaimer: This is a fictional account and narrated in first person to sound like an autobiographical excerpt)
(This is a continuation of Part-1)

I could hear clinging sounds from the kitchen. Mom was doing utensils.
Doing utensils or mopping floors – she performs her chores with great dedication, complete focus and an unbeatable passion. Like a dedicated sculptor.

I slid into a Neelkamal plastic chair by the kitchen entrance and was silently watching her. She threw a glance at me, raising her eyebrows enquiringly. I shrugged, conveying a 'Nothing. Just like that". She acknowledged my shrug with a nod and after adjusting her unruly hair, she shifted her focus back onto the spatula and continued scrubbing. For once, I felt she is the epitome of an untiring indian housewife.

However, there is one thing I honestly don't like about her. Her morbid obsession with nighties. Right from my birth, I have always seen her in nighties only. Her almirah has more nighties than sarees. Even dad, for whom her nightie-obsession is still a mystey, had gifted her a nightie on their wedding anniversary this year. "That's what she had asked for" I overheard him telling Krishna uncle over the phone. All my life, whenever I thought about her in my mind, or seen her in my dreams, she always shows up in a nightie. The last time I saw her dressed up in a saree was during my cousin Rajini’s wedding 8 months ago. When she is in a saree, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. So graceful. But when she is in a nightie, doing domestic chores, she looks like a Taliban refugee.

“Amma, when will you buy me Hero Ranger amma?" I gently asked her. She is aware of my latest B-grade feat and remembers her promise very well. Until the previous day, I used to re-confirm the promise with her every now and then.

“Eat some upma Babloo.You should be very hungry. Even yesterday you didn’t eat anything except three chapathis and a banana”.

This is a universal motherhood flaw. Women think their only purpose as a mother is to feed their children. And no matter how well the children eat, they feel it inadequate. Perhaps, it’s one of their pet peeves. Incidentally, with 3 chapathis and one banana, one can easily feed atleast 10 fashion models.

“I don’t want upma Amma. Tell me when are you gonna buy me the promised Hero Ranger” I asked her with a suppressed aggression.

"Babloo, quarterly exams are no big deal ok? Get a B-grade in the final, and then we’ll see. Until then, don’t talk about hero ranger in this house" she said with a hostile glare, sticking out her index finger.

That was so unsportsmanlike of her. A shameful foul play.

Mother or father, my conscience has a zero tolerance for cheating. My sense of right and wrong is emotionally unbiased. So I got pissed off at her response.

“You are a cheater Amma. You are a chameleon!” I yelled at her and became breathless with rage.

She was silent and irritatingly unmindful of my concern. She kept hard-rubbing a stainless-steel plate with her usual passion.

My temper flared further. And when my temper flares, I have a tendency to break or destroy stuff with the closest proximity, provided it’s not mine. I jumped down in rage and forcibly kicked the plastic chair up. It was airborne for a moment and then rolled over a few feet, narrowly missing her leg.

“ABAAA!@##” I groaned loudly in pain. It was the result of a healthy palm that crash-landed on my cheek from behind. Timing-wise, it was right after I had kicked that chair. I turned around and saw a familiar man, topless, right behind me. He stood there with a half hoisted lungie, exposing his thighs. His teeth were clenched, nostrils were flaring and his hands on his hips.

I sensed an instant heat accumulation on my cheek due to the exothermic property of the slap. It also created a spinning sensation. As if I'd just got off a roller coaster. After a few seconds the heat transformed itself into a strange numbness on one side of my face.

Feeling a sudden weakness and vulnerability, with my palm still on the cheek, I looked at him. Glaring at me with reproachful eyes, he seemed he was preparing to say something.

"ROWDY RASCAL! HOW DARE YOU KICK THAT STOOL ?”

I was gasping in silence

“BLOODY IDIOT. YOU DON'T DESERVE A HERO RANGER! GET LOST IF YOU DON’T WANT TO LIVE HERE. ”

With a traumatized soul, and the numbness and warmth still fresh on my cheek, I turned around to give a quick self-sympathatic glance at mom expecting some consolation.

“ENOUGH?” she nodded, staging a cold sarcasm.

Mom’s indifference was a bolt from the blue. Words failed me. With tears in my eyes, I ran across the living room. Opened the shoe rack and hastily wore my white-blue hawaii chappal. Then I ran out the main door, down the apartment staircase, like a woman running away from her drunken boyfriend after an attempted rape.

After a few moments, silence filled the house, except the distant sound of street dogs barking at each other.
.

6 comments:

Blue Lotus said...

Ha..Now that's more like it..It would've pained me if the mom did that,"Mere monu ko kuch nahin hone dena" act.Spoken and acted like a true Indian mom.She steals the show.Loved the story...

MIdhun Manmadhan said...

Incidentally, with 3 chapathis and one banana, one can easily feed atleast 10 fashion models.

Cool :- )

Sameera said...

"This is a universal motherhood flaw. Women think ........ fashion models."

Thats a classic para!

Very well written. I love how you captured the intricate details like obsession with nightie, Hawaii chappal, Lungi descriptions.. lol!

Nice read.. but it left me little worried about the kid. Needs a closure.

Victor Guerra said...

Blue lotus - I'm glad that the climax concurred with your expectation, thereby saving a pain. Yeah, Monu's mom was a funny lady...a talking goat.;-)

Midhun - Thanks for dropping by.

Sameera - Thank you for the comment, glad to know you liked the nittygritties I narrated.
Reg the boy, I'm indeed planning for a closure, lemme see if time permits to give it a shot. Else,here ends babloo's cycle story.

DivyaSreejith said...

Awesome... I just loved the second part... especially...the sound Abbaahh!!@..and the fashion models one...

Unknown said...

We are urgently in need of KlDNEY donors for the sum of $500,000.00 USD,(3 CRORE INDIA RUPEES) All donors are to reply via Email only: hospitalcarecenter@gmail.com or Email: kokilabendhirubhaihospital@gmail.com
WhatsApp +91 7795833215