MOTHER ON A TETHER
MOTHER ON A TETHER
by v.s.gopalakrishnan
She was called Sarasa, short for Saraswathi. Never holding a veena, not carrying swathes of Vedic manuscripts in one of her four hands, and never seated near a peacock. But she was wisdom and arts. A clever Tanjorean with joie de vivre and savoir faire, unlike my father from North Arcot, naive and trusting, dreaming and faltering.Arts-wise, she was a singer though she never went near the A.I.R. unlike her sister Jaya (the heroine in the film 'Sivakavi').Jaya Periyamma would tell me:"Your mother and I sang standing near Gandhiji, at the huge Madras public gathering.She was only moving her lips and I was the real one who sang!" Sibling rivalry even past 60!
The women in my family, I mean my mother and two sisters, knew little English. That was not important for them.But having the 'European complexion'was the thing to want.They were blessed with it.Bright and shiny after a bath and chandan-like at dawn and ivory-like at dusk.All the invaders,I think, mingled into their blood -the Greeks,Parthians, Sakas,Huns and what not.
Like Jane Austen would have thought,the three women were always highly eligible,simply for their looks and skin-colour! Music was a must. My Kappu Chithi (Mausi, not mousy!) was an AIR veena player.When one of her strings snapped,she sobbed and I could hear that on the radio.They (AIR) then used filler music for the remaining time! And accomplished cooking was a must.These were trappings for trapping husbands!
My father was a bit darkish but the fact that he was Rangoon-based and he was into good business (you guessed it-export of teak and rice)compensated for that.A handsome husband is a liability since he would attract the bees.My father's side had no culture, not even agriculture.They were into reading newspapers and books only.In fact, my father would read 'The Hindu' for the entire day, from the first word to the last, including the advertisements and matrimonial columns!
Mothers' Day! What rubbish! They never even observed their own birthdays.They probably even forgot their birthdates and there was no wedding anniversary.Every day was perhaps an anniversary day, and that should be obvious by counting the six children and the lost ones (two in fact, one from untimely abortion and another from diphtheria, the child-killer in those days).
Giving presents was considered if not barbaric,a bourgeois practice(of 'lumpen' bourgeoisie, why not?)!
Life was lived on love and thin air.
And what mothers those days, my God! Boiling hot water poured on your tender 4 month old body,under the guise of bathing! Castor oil thrust down your gullet every third month, to flush your system.Any resistance to such tyranny was total taboo.You were fully starved of food till 3 pm, waiting for your bowels and worms to get all cleared.Who will give presents to such mothers?
Today's mothers deserve gifts -- for letting the children wander,for giving them carte blanche,for pampering them with electronics (like cell phone and i-Pod), for letting them enjoy unchecked laissez-faire.This is what perhaps the children think.No gifts for boiling water and castor oil!
(by dr.v.s.gopalakrishnan ph.d., ias retd.)
© V-S-Gopal., all rights reserved.
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