One thing I have observed is that most of human lives go into breaking old, then rebuilding new bridges. Whether its with friends or family or even with ourselves. Human beings are particularly prone to picking up petty fights over petty reasons, breaking up and then making up again. It somehow comes with the genes.
I don’t claim to be any different. From as far back as I can remember, I always have had tiffs with my mother. It was very easy for her to get irritated. If her friends happened to ask you what u had for breakfast, and if I answered ‘ roti and sweet moong dal’, she would be vexed. Why did u have to say that? Why do they have to know about our kitchen? Or if somebody was ill, and if the neighbors inquired, she would say, “why did u have to answer? What’s ur
Finally I learnt to hide things as much as possible, and always think up a back up answer, where hiding things could only be partially avoided or not avoided at all. It was not that easy to gauge which answers was going the least controversial tags, but it wasn’t that difficult either. I even learnt the art of answering inquisitive neighbors (polite in their eyes) with such ambivalence, so that I cud frame my answers to her, with equal truthful ambivalence. And avoid antagonizing her.
Actually, the first tiff I remember, was age at four when I pulled the huge steel trunk under the bed and kept it at such an angle, that she stumble and fall, which btw, she did much to my secret glee, because she did not permit me to play outside with my friends, friends whose parents had no issues granting their children permission to play outside.
Another tiff was in Grade I. I had flunked a Community Living paper. I had got three out of ten, she had rolled her eyes in anger. A glimpse of how things were going to unveil once we reached home from school. “This is the first time”, she thundered, “that something like his has happened in this house, anybody had flunked in any paper”. By anybody, of course, she meant, my elder brother.
That, she was the one who tutored me, that the paper was supposed to be an oral paper, and was changed into a written paper, seconds before the paper began, that she had not prepared me for written exams, that almost all questions were different from what she had tutored me, that spellings had not been taught, was conveniently forgotten in her tantrum. “How did Violet pass inspite of all that?” She locked me in the balcony,( my brother and sister watching her mad mom eye with an equally fearful awe) while she not only refused to give me daily tea, and poured it down the sink, u’ve flunked, u don’t deserve it.. her reasoning. That was my fall from grace as far as studies was concerned. After that, I was the certified dunce in the family, and the insuation continued for many many years, almost till graduation in fact.
In Grade two, there was this particular elocution competition, where I was selected by my teacher, and while I was secretly thrilled to bits at having been selecte from a class of 40 students- off the rack so as to speak, she was not so happy. ‘Take u for practice on Holidays? She sneered, ‘Ask ur
She was the one who took me walking to school everyday, in grade three, it was almost time to leave, and I had wanted to pee, so I checked with her whether there was enough time for a leak, she told me there was time, and I quickly took a leak. Two days later, just for fun, I asked her again, if there was time to leave, she told me yes, she asked me why. And I said, nothing. For me it was a joke. She didn’t think it was though. I don’t know what went wrong, she was suddenly all upon me, why? Tell me why? And when I again answered her ‘nothing’, she flew the handle. This time she became crazy mom. She started whacking me with a cane, on my legs, hands, yelling ‘out with it, out with it’. all at the same time. Somehow daddy was at home that day, and he wanted to know what was wrong. She was telling him, that maybe I wanted to pee, but I was not admitting it, here she was trying to make me admit it, but I was not helping her help me by admitting it. And I on my part, found it even more and more foolish to admit that I was just having fun at her expense, so kept my mouth tightly shut in spite of the pain, and finally it was daddy who saved the day…why don’t u believe her?..he put an end to the matter, but not before my legs were black and blue with the canings!
Fourth grade, when primary school was finishing for good, the students and class teacher of three years were into group crying goodbyes, and though I was happy to be rid of her actually, I had to wring a few tears, so as to not stand out like a sore thumb…Mom made loads of fun of my sentimentality.
Fifth grade, she found my first best friend irritating, and selfish and using “stupid gullible” me, she though I was terribly unassertive, and though according to her, she was watching my back, for me it was just embarrassing behavior that I had to keep covering up, in order to pretend that she had no hostility towards my friend. Of course, squashing ur child’s assertiveness at home in the name of discipline, is not the best way to teach ur
After that I think I got the knack and learnt to avoid pushing her buttons, and where buttons could not be avoided, i.e. my mathematics which I flunked almost regularly, learnt to endure. I learnt to manipulate the environment to just about enough not to antagonize her volatile temper.
Grade seven saw me suddenly make friends with books. Now the English language was my best friend. I spent hours in the school library, burnt the midnight oil reading books, and made my own stories in my head, when there were no books, but she soon felt that books were interfering with my studies and banned them altogether.
Grade seven also me grow boobs, attain puberty and my first affair. Not a complete affair, but more than less. It started off well, but I soon got caught in the guilt trap set by my peers, and when I ended the affair abruptly, purely out of guilt, things went haywire. Cause the guy simply refused to toe line, and began to stalk. When the stalking started to get unmanageable, I had to turn to her (inspite of my extreme fear at her reaction), and surprisingly she was supportive. In the sense, she did not create as much a scene as I expected. She quickly banished the guy from the home front(he was kinda a family friend).
Grade Eight saw us at logger heads again, when my marks plummeted, and from a respectable seventy five percenter, I became a measly fifty percenter.(though my rank was still untouched). PTA saw her discuss my marks issue with teachers who introduced psychology to her. Well it happens, they told her, at this age, girls and boys lose interest in studies and start taking active interest in each other, it’s a phase, it will pass, they consoled. Mom on her part, was furious, how come I didn’t have such issues when I was 13..she thundered to dad, psychology is bullshit. I of course was silently furious and mortified at being first put in the dock and then hanged without a trial.
Grade eight was also when, she felt it was high time I learn house work and cooking. After all u have to get married, and go to another man’s house, and he is not going to tolerate a lazy lump like u..I had already learnt to make tea in grade V( she had created a huge rukus, about wasting tea powder and milk, when I made tea as a surprise for the whole family the first time),but later it became my work, when I learnt it well. She thought that she had done me a favor by introducing me to house work only at age 13, for girls in Kerala, her home town were apparently taught house work by the time they were 10. She also weaned me off the habit of reading newspapers first thing in the morning. Good girls are supposed to prepare breakfast, and lunch, and run the house and not read newspapers first thing in the morning. Husbands and their mothers won’t tolerate a woman who reads newspapers the first thing in the morning.
By the time I had stepped out school and started going to college, I had stopped asserting my self so completely, that there was no need for her to interfere. I toed all her rules, regarding housework, my social conducts and her strict timetables. Time I left the house, time I returned, etc which left no time for socializing. I also became a loner, though I had individual friends, as I found taht I could not fit into any group. Her strict timings could not find favor with any group. Nor her rules of no movies or picnics, or hanging out in canteens.
When I had turned 18, she as usual, used harsh and spiteful words to badger me to fill government forms, and look out for a job. I was yet to make up my mind, whether to become join the ranks of other working women or stay at home and get married after graduation, but she had already decided that her daughters would be working women (I was the first working woman in the family I must add). Luckily, I got a job, the very first time I had applied. And I was spared lots of tirades in that area at least.
Once I started working, my pent up frustrations started spilling, slowly and slowly. I learnt the art of washing dirty linen in public. I found willing ears in my female colleagues, who were married and were about 5 to 7 years older than me where I could iron out my irritations. Like when I got my first pay packet and brought home Jams, and cream biscuits and sauces (a luxury in most household in those days) from the pocket money that I got from my pay packet, she was livid… why u cant save, when will u learn to save…if u spend it all on the first day itself, there will be nobody for u if when u have no money. In those days, most times when I refered to her to my collagues, she was ‘that woman’. She was mom very rarely.
As soon as my graduation results were out, she told me “we are looking for an alliance. If u have any boyfriends or like somebody, do tell us. Of course, only if he is of the same caste. If he is from a different caste, u are on your own.” I was about to protest that it was too early to get me married, when she added, “we have shown the horoscope. The astrologer says u have a strong mars. And that if u don’t married by 22, u would have to wait till 30”, and “you have a sister younger than you, if u are selfish, you will end up hampering her chances too”. And that was that.
Once I was married, things turned changed a bit.for the better. My husband was of the opinion, that being a working woman, I should be giving her some token money every month. Which I did. Suddenly we were two adults who could make fun of husbands. Mostly. Till I delivered a baby. It was almost 18 years since there was a baby in the house, and all were ecstatic. They badly wanted to look after the baby, hubby wasn’t so keen. I had no views either way. “So that you didn’t have to lose your job” they said, “and the kid didn’t have to suffer baby sitting issues”. Only thing was that our houses were so apart, that the conventional system of leaving the kid at mother’s place on way to work, and collecting him back on a daily basis was impossible. So my child became a weekend kid. Weekends at my place, weekdays at hers. Of course, I did go to her place daily to take him off her hands for about two hours. Initially, it went fine, soon there were complaints. U guys are taking things too lightly, u guys are not toilet training him properly, u guys are not taking up his studies, his weekends seem like an extended picnic, u don’t give him his vitamin tablets(this from my dad), no vitamin tablets he grows naturally (this from my husband)….i was suddenly doing the ‘appease everybody’ dance…listen to complaints about my husband, about my kid, from my mom, listen to husband’s complaints about my dad and mom, in short I was the medium being used by all to have a proxy war. My own complaints, my colleagues were digesting! She had started feeling that I was getting it too easy. I was not being appreciative enough of her efforts, at saving my job. And looking after my baby. She started talking to the neighbors. Sometimes in front of me. ”Never going to offer to look after another grandchild again”. She also was strictly against me going for another kid( I didnt want to add to the complications either).
One day, I happened to be sitting and talking to her and her friend(who btw, was baby sitting her daughter’s son)..and somehow twice I had to change the place I was sitting cause her grandson kept wandering away. Third time, I was irritated, ”oh come on, let me sit quietly for once, instead of making me play this ringa ringa roses”.. she did not show she was offended. Until we were home. Then she turned the water spouts. “that’s ungratefulness”, she sobbed, “after all we have done for her”.
By now I started dreading my daily visits. Cause once again, after a long time, I couldn’t be sure, what was going to be an issue and what was not. I did not have the guts to put an end to the arrangement either. Cause it could be taken as sign of further ungratefulness. I did not want it to end on a bitter note. And more importantly, the kid didn’t want to change his school either. Every time I rang her doorbell, I found myself drained of energy. I never knew what to expect. There was nothing more than polite talks now. The tension of pretence was always hanging around.
Then one day, I was free. Just like that. She had again complained about my husband, I simply handed over the phone to her and asked her to tell it to him directly. She was silent. I did the same with the rest. “All are adults. So do ur
Luckily, I soon got a face saving exit from the stalemate. Mom’s house was getting renovated. I used that excuse to get my son to my house, and then he never went back. But her complaints didn’t stop. Now her new complaint was that he wasn’t visiting them often. She somehow got it into her head, that it was my husband who wasn’t letting it happen. I did not try to change any perceptions. Past experiences told me that it was just going to be counter productive.
Once my son was with me, I too stopped visiting her everyday. It go reduced to once a week, and then to once a month, and then even lesser. When I learnt that she was complaining to her neighbors, and her siblings, about my ungratefulness, it made me want to see her even less. At around the same time, due to financial issues, I stopped giving her any money.
It took her more than five years to realize that something in me had snapped, and that I no longer cared. About anything. Other than keeping up appearances. And that too wasn’t a huge priority.
The emotional distance made me see things a bit clearly too. I now understand some of her actions. Some still seem undecipherable. But now its no longer seems important.
Her expectations too have started falling. Low. Now she didn’t want my undying appreciation of all she had sacrificed for me. She just wants that I come to visit her. Regularly. So that she can remain connected. So that the neighbours wouldn’t laugh at her. For having an ungrateful daughter. She has now stopped greeting me with complaints. The change was gradual. But it has happened. I now feel welcomed. As a person. Not a punching bag. Not a complaint box.
I make it a point to visit her once a week. Every week. She is happy. She does not want anything else. I’m happy too. I don’t want anything else either. We are building bridges again. Brick by brick.
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