Twenty- five Seven

Goodbye is just another word

March 6, 2016

uroburos / Pixabay

Desiree Fernandes that’s me . Much desired by my parents Agnelo and Marietta originally from Saligaon but officially from “The Nest”, 12/4 Colaba Post Office, Colaba, Mumbai 400005 . At least that’s what is recorded on my parents’ Ration Card.

So how did a young couple from Saligaon land up in the southern most tip of Bombay? My mother always used to say that it was the Hand of God. Why did she happen to be to her Aunty Glory’s house when Lucy Machado had come back from Bombay? Marietta never really went to her Aunty Glory’s house on her own but that week she was staying with her because her mother was admitted to the big hospital in Panjim. ” Aunty Glory will look after you,” said her mother to a bristling Marietta who at 17, definitely didn’t need any looking after. But her mother knew better. At 17, Marietta was young and desirable and she didn’t want all the village Romeo’s make a beeline to their house. She had already noticed the glint in Pascal’s eye every time they passed him on the way. And the way Savio, blushed every time. Yes, she thought, it was better that she stays with her sister in Saligao. So Marietta was packed off to Aunty Glory’s house. There, it so happened that Lucy Machado, Uncle Benny’s oldest sister came visiting from Bombay and when she saw Marietta, her eyes lit up.

“My madam is looking for a new girl to help in the kitchen, ” she told Glory. ” Why doesn’t Marietta come with me? I promise I will look after her well, ” she said clutching on to her fat hand bag. ” And it will be a good idea for her to learn some housekeeping as well as earn a dowry.”

Aunty Glory was quite taken in with the idea but said she’d have to check with her sister and before she knew it, Marietta was sleeping beside Lucy Machado on the top deck of the ferry to Bombay.

” Then of course I met Agnelo, the understudy to Mrs. Manekji’s old Boy ” Marietta would say with a sigh and I was left to imagine the love that blossomed between the two young Goans who were working in Mrs. Manekji’s household. ” And then, you came along, ” she used to say with a flourish and clasping her hands to her bosom, “a sweet little angel from God. Mrs. Manekji who had even come to our wedding was smitten by you and told me that we had to call you Desiree, after her favourite heroine.

“Desiree was Napoleon’s first love and became a Queen! The only one whose descendants are still Swedish Royalty! You are destined to be a Queen, Desiree, ” Marietta used to tell me and I never tired of hearing the story of how I got my name for the hundredth, or may be millionth time.

Mrs. Manekji was true to her word – she looked after me like her own daughter and brought me up to be a Queen. She sent me off to study in the convent nearby and also made sure I had piano lessons each week from Mrs. Braganza, the best teacher in town. She enrolled me in a Speech and Drama Class and would have made me learn tennis at the MSLTA but didn’t want to make it embarrassing for Marietta who would have had to wait for me at the servants’ enclosure. Over the years I went for Ikebana classes, learnt tailoring at Mrs. Grant’s and even learnt the most sophisticated desserts and confectioneries at the YWCA cookery classes.

I wore the prettiest dresses from Marks & Spencer’s that Mrs. Manekji used to get every summer from London and all the girls in school used to be really jealous of me. I often thought that she’d take me with her on holiday one day but she told me, “Desiree, I can’t let you be too different from your parents or you will abandon them and that is a crime. So I will give you everything but you must still be able to live with your parents.”

I never really understood her logic till Ramu, the dhobi’s son was pulled out of private school suddenly. “Mrs. Mehta’s son stopped paying the fees after Mrs. Mehta died, ” Marietta told me. ” Now the poor boy has to stop going to school and go back to being a dhobi’s boy and finish his matriculation in the Municipal School. Poor chap got so shattered! Thank God, Mrs. Manekji is not raising you to live beyond your station in life, ” she used to say and cross herself lest Mrs. Manekji had a change of heart and bring me up in a way that would alienate me from my parents.

But Mrs. Manekji knew the pain of losing a child, as she had lost her only son to America. She had sent him there to study for four years but he stayed on forever. In the beginning he used to come back for holidays but gradually, his visits became few and far between. The last time he had come was before my parents got married so I had never seen him till Mrs. Mankeji passed away.

” I should have never let him become American, Desiree, ” she used to tell me, looking at his photo in the silver frame . ” See this is his wife and my grandson. Even he is married now. But they never come home. They call me to stay with them but how can I leave this place? See, he has changed so much that he can no longer connect with me. I can’t do this to Marietta and Agnelo.” And that is why Mrs. Manekji brought me up like a queen but still let me be a daughter to my own parents.

I never really knew how old Mrs. Manekji was but she looked at least a hundred so when she died, I wasn’t really shocked. But what shocked me was how Jeh Manekji turned up 24 hours after poor Mrs. Manekji lay in the cold freezing morgue. After all these years, he suddenly seemed to have the time to come for his mother’s last rites.

He also seemed to have the time to find a lawyer to contest the will that left “The Nest” to me – Desiree Fernandes. And he had the time to keep coming back every now and then to “look after” his property!

Yes,it was not HIS property: it was MINE . Mrs. Manekji had fulfilled her dream and promise to me and bequeathed her house, a quaint little cottage at Colaba Post Office to me : Desiree Fernandes, an 18 year old, FY BA student of English and French at Elphinstone College.

But Jeh Mankeji was convinced that Marietta and Agnelo had “worked ” on his mother to leave the property to their daughter. He fought tooth and nail for what he claimed was his rightful property and the litigation went on for 20 years. It would have gone on for more and everyone says that I have a good chance but honestly, now I am really tired.

After twenty years of flying with Gulf Air, it is time now to retire. And I want to go back to Saligao, to my own little cottage that I made there with my Mikey. Our very own home which we used to visit every summer with the children. I want to retire there now and enjoy the peace of the coconut trees and the sea. Colaba is no longer what it was and “The Nest” is lost amidst the trees of skyscrapers around it.

I look up at the house one last time as I turn to get into my car. “Come Desiree,” says Mikey helping me in. “It’s time to say a final good bye to this Palace of Illusions.”

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This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

This week’s WOW prompt is – ‘Books And Titles’

Desiree by Annemarie Selinko is a fictionalised version of Napoleon’s first love and has been cherished by three generations of women in my family – my mother, myself and my daughters. I am hoping my grand daughter will enjoy this much handled paperback in her own time.

The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni is Draupadi’s perspective of the Mahabharata. My daughters and I loved the story though my mother didn’t care too much for it.

Of course there are many many more books that I can count among my favourites but if I have to trace a thread that defines my taste, it would be fictional or semi-fictional stories about women and families with a historic or mythological background.

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
When a woman’s job becomes a man’s job#ShareTheLoad

March 5, 2016

Ok. If this infographic is to be believed, 2 out of three children believe that doing laundry is a woman’s job and that household jobs are meant to be done only by women, 78 % of girls believe that they will have to do the laundry, 81 % of the men feel that girls should learn to do household chores, and yet 65% percent of married men agree that their behaviour at home is replicated by their children.

So despite the fact that such a large percentage of men know that their behaviour will be replicated by their children, why are parents doing nothing about it?

Indeed with more women entering the workforce and working a man’s job, isn’t it strange that their roles at home still remain defined by their gender?

Frankly, I feel that there are certain jobs only women can do like breast feeding and some that only men can or rather, do better purely because of their brute strength. Also there are certain jobs that are rather unpleasant and are better done by men such as the last rites of a departed soul.

But by and large, there is no job that a man does that a woman can’t do. In fact , since time immemorial, men and women have worked side by side, together and raising a family. Somewhere down the line women were kept inside the home ( tucked away from the eyes of marauders and plundering armies)and there began the gender discrimination and division of labour into men’s jobs and women’s work.

But ever since WW1 and Women’s Emancipation, women have made their mark in the regular work force, often bringing more to the table than their men.

However,there are only so many hours in a day and when a woman spends her time out of the house doing a man’s job, doesn’t it make sense for her man to chip in and help her do her job?

Taking out the Garbage

” and can you imagine, he even takes out the garbage when he comes home ” I once overheard Mrs P complaining about her daughter in law’s treatment of her darling son.

” Yes , these modern girls are like that only,” commiserated Mrs J , quite conveniently forgetting that her own husband used to bring home the vegetables on his way home from work while she sat around doing only the “housework”.

Mrs. P of course, quite conveniently forgot that her son was living abroad and where the garbage was not collected from the home as is the case in India. Naturally, any man worth his salt, would take the garbage out rather than expect his wife to lug it out. Isn’t it?

Bluesnap / Pixabay

Bringing home the bacon and cooking it too

There was a time when men brought home the bacon. Not only did they go out and earn money but many men actually did the shopping as well and brought home the vegetables on their way home. However, with social evolution , women became equal partners in contributing to the family kitty.

And with changing social mores, many men also help in the kitchen. I prefer my husband to stay out of my kitchen but that is because I like to work alone.

My daughter believes that gender biases are instilled and is trying her best to make sure that her little son doesn’t behave like a typical male. However, I must admit, though, I was a bit taken aback by the bubble gum pink cooking range she gifted him for his second birthday . ” Isn’t it taking things a bit too far? ” I asked her rather hesitantly.

” Well I got it because I’ve always wanted one ( and you never got me one was the sub text) and if I don’t cook , I can hardly expect my daughter-in- law to cook can I ? ”

Three Cheers ! I said silently for the unknown grand daughter in law who was being championed by her husband’s mother . I was happy that my grandson was learning how to cook so early in life. If nothing else, at least he won’t be going hungry in his life.

Whither thou goest.

Ruth had set an example to all women to follow their husbands to the ends of the earth when she refused to allow her mother-in-law to go back to her own people after the death of her own husband. Her loyalty and identification with her husband’s people are commendable and are often held as an example for all women to follow .

In all societies and cultures, a woman’s job is second fiddle to her husband’s and she is expected to up and leave when he wishes or has to relocate irrespective of the fact that she is more qualified or more capable – her job is just second fiddle . This too is a prejudice that is deeply ingrained and wives who do not follow this are berated by their own families. ” What kind of new fangled marriage is this, where she is here and he is there?” is the oft heard complaint of many a mother or mother in law. But listen, I want to tell her, didn’t she work equally hard to get where she is now? So isn’t it time for him to share her vision of her life’s journey?

PublicDomainPictures / Pixabay

DO IT YOURSELF

Thirty years ago, my daughter was playing “house” with her cousin. They both went to sleep and when she woke up, he asked her to make her a cup of coffee before he left for work. This is a typical scene played out in most households – the wife gets the coffee/tea going so that hubby dear can have his cup that cheers before he leaves for work.

I was quite surprised when my daughter coolly picked up her hand bag and said, “Get it yourself, “I’m getting late for work!”

Now of course this was a game of make believe and definitely not a replication of what was played out in either of our homes but obviously my daughter had decided earlier in life that she was not going to be the good little wife or at least expressed a desire to be different. I didn’t stop her from “going to work” and silently praised the little boy for getting up and “making his own tea” .

Today, I’m glad to report that both cousins have their own homes where each of them expects the housework to be shared equally by both spouses!

Changing social values

The beauty of life is that society is constantly evolving. What was right today becomes wrong tomorrow. For instance smoking which was widely prevalent and considered cool and hip, is now actually frowned upon several young people who look at the smokers in airport smoking zones with something akin to sympathy if not outright pity.

Gradually, with shrinking families, men will realise that they will have to pull their weight and help share the burden of bringing up a family which is the basic social unit else spend a hefty amount getting the help that their working wives need.

It is time then for us, to uproot all the prejudices and gender biases that exist, so that men can share the load and it is up to all of us to change our own mind sets and accept the fact that a man can do the laundry, wash the dishes, take out the garbage and in fact do half his wife’s job if not more – after all, he is stronger and tougher than a woman, isn’t he?????

a job is a job is a job

So from today, I’m going to make sure that my grandchildren are not going to be told what is a man’s job and what is a girl’s job. They will learn that a job is a job is a job and that it has to be done no matter what !

“I am joining the Ariel #ShareTheLoad campaign at BlogAdda and blogging about the prejudice related to household chores being passed on to the next generation.”
No glorious sun set

March 4, 2016

Last week I signed off determined to capture a week of glorious sunsets. Unfortunately the Sun God didn’t oblige .

This morning though I found a pink kissed sky with wisps of cloud looking down on my city, still waking up to the day.

Now isn’t that a breath taking view to get up to?

Happy weekend all!

Do visit SkywatchFriday for spectacular views of skies from around the world