Storm in a Teacup

No… I am really not implying a gender transformation. I am perfectly happy with being myself. It is just that, most of the time, life seems to be so very easy for the stronger sex… (though my adult son disagrees vehemently).

I have my reasons…

Eight o'clock on a Monday morning in a busy household needs no particular explanation. But in the absence of domestic help, and with hungry family members, a late morning start and, not to mention, a clogged sink, the kitchen, around which the house pivots, becomes a literal battlefield.

There I was, hurriedly conjuring up lunch and breakfast simultaneously, all the while supervising a whole lot of other chores that had to be completed before my rush to the office, when an unexpected guest dropped in to meet my father. An order for two cups of tea — one normal and the other with a dash of lime and sugar — was promptly relayed to me.

Well… “Athithi Devo Bhava.” And frankly, I didn't have any other choice.

Things could have been left at that, and I still would have been happy to be a member of the fairer sex, had I served the tea within a span of seven minutes.

But the lack of a fourth gas-stove burner had slowed down my task, and the eighth minute witnessed my octogenarian dad walking into the kitchen with the grandiose statement:

“Has someone gone to the market to buy tea leaves? Why is the tea getting delayed?”

That did it.

That just did it!!!

(Male readers might be wondering what the fuss is all about, but I am sure most of my lady readers would empathize with me.)

Inwardly, I was fuming, ready to burst at another provocation. But with great effort, I restrained myself from blowing up — waste of energy and presence of a guest — and smilingly served the tea in the tenth minute.

Seething with anger and frustration born out of a sheer sense of total helplessness, I sincerely wished I had been born a male.

My reasons for desiring so are very clear.

For one, if I were a male, especially an Indian male, I wouldn't have to worry about cooking or cleaning or washing up or ironing or any of the umpteen mundane, everyday, thankless activities that are so essential to maintaining a household in order.

I wouldn't have to worry my head about what to prepare for lunch and dinner while making crisp dosas for breakfast. I wouldn't have to run outside to get the washing from the clothesline at the first drop of unexpected rain in the midst of spluttering mustard seeds for the chutney. And neither would I have to worry about the pile of washed clothes that have to be folded up and shoved into cupboards at 10:30 at night, when all I desperately want is some sleep.

Well, friends, it is not all about what I wouldn't have to do…

I could wake up after a great night's sleep, one lovely rainy morning, and take off for a long drive with just my thoughts to keep me company if I wished.

I could laze around on the sofa watching TV half the day and demand endless cups of hot tea, after which I could go back to sleep.

I could demand homemade chicken biryani for lunch and have the luxury of burping away satisfactorily after a tasty meal, without even lifting a finger to help in its preparation.

I could be out the whole day with friends and come back to a neat and tidy home with hot food on the table.

I could happily eat up the third cup of ice cream without worrying about the possibility of looking like a pregnant whale…

This is an endless list and could go on and on…

Well… as per the popular English proverb, “If wishes were horses, beggars would fly.”

Since my desire has acute gender-specific limitations, I guess my only option is to sit back, appreciate the countless other advantages of being a proud member of the fairer sex!