Parental Love
Marisha Ida Fonseca
11 March 2009, 09:38“Whose number is this?”
The explosion was imminent. Dad was pointing, with a very stern finger to the monthly phone bill. He was justified in looking like a combination of Genghis Khan and Muhammad Bin Tughlaq. Twenty calls to one number in the past month, and all of them made after one am, was enough to disturb even the mildest parent.
Mom was standing in the corner, her arms on her hips. “You’d better tell us and not be stubborn. We have ways of finding out what you’re up to in college. Don’t think your parents are fools.”
“Samir’s” said Kusum meekly.
“Who is Uzair? Who are his parents? What business do you have with him, calling at one in the morning?”
“We’re just friends, Dad. We….talk.”
“Talk! Of course you talk! What else do normal people do on the phone! What do you talk about to this boy?”
“Nothing….really.”
“Don’t try to back answer me! How can you talk about nothing? Unless you are both mad! Who is this Samir? What is his surname? Where did you meet him?”
“He’s in my class, at college. His name is Samir Ali.”
“Ali! He’s a Muslim! He Bhagwan! A girl of our family has a Muslim boyfriend!” Dadima took out her handkerchief and ostentatiously wiped her eyes.
“Dadima, what’s wrong with being a Muslim?”
“Child, haven’t you read the papers? Muslims are terrorists. Look at those fellows who came to bomb the Taj hotel and shot so many people in November!”
“All Muslims are not terrorists!”
“Don’t try to argue with me. Of course all Muslims are terrorists. What sort of a boy you have chosen! He will make you wear burqa and when he gets tired of you he will divorce you in two minutes! Or he will take another wife!”
“Ammi please be sensible. All Muslims are not like this. I do not care if Kusum makes friends with Muslims, Christians whoever. But she is not to call boys up in the middle of the night!” Dad snapped.
“This Uzair must not be a nice character. What well brought up boy will talk to girls for one hour at twelve o’clock? Kusum, is he your boyfriend?”
“No Mummy. We’re just friends, I told you.” Kusum tried to speak quietly but she was seething with fury inside. How dare Dadima make such comments about Uzair, when she didn’t even know him? Totally bigoted, like all old people! Mom and Dad- straightaway thinking about boyfriends if she even smiled at a guy. Why didn’t they get a life? Couldn’t they understand? Just because Mom was in an all girls college, she had such narrow minded ideas. Kusum was sick of their harping on her having a boyfriend. She didn’t have one, but according to her parents, she had several. Any guy she mentioned automatically became her boyfriend. Mom moaned that nice girls didn’t flirt and have boyfriends, while Dadima instantly wanted to know their family, caste, religion and hometown.
“Kusum beti, you will ruin your life if you keep running after boys in college. We will never find a good husband for you later. You will get a bad reputation. Beti, we are telling you this for your own good,” pleaded Mom.
“I will not tolerate such indecent behaviour, do you hear me? From now on there will be no calling up boys at night. I am going to password protect the phone after ten o’clock. You will either go to sleep or study. Understand?” Dad shouted.
Kusum wanted to stamp her feet and smash the glasses with fury, but she knew that Dad didn’t consider her too old for a beating. And Dadima would not be able to stop talking about it for atleast six months. So she sullenly said “Yes.”
Mom went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. Dadima went to the pooja room and prayed audibly for Kusum. Dad picked up the Economic Times and sat down on the sofa. Kusum left the room, longing to bang the door after her.
Her family was so limited! They didn’t allow her to have any fun! Mom and Dad were just there to spoil her life. They hated to see her happy. They wanted girls to behave like they lived hundred years ago. Always asking why did she have to wear jeans to college, couldn’t she wear salwar kameez like a decent girl? Or atleast long skirts. And the fuss they made about phone calls? Dad was earning enough wasn’t he? So what if she called her friends at night? No one else had such horrible parents, who didn’t love her! Kusum threw herself on the bed and cried herself to sleep.
She had forgotten to set the alarm, and so woke up at seven, when she should have been catching the bus to college at that time. She hurried through her dressing, gave a hasty rub to her teeth and rushed out of the house without making her bed. Why should she? It’s Mom and Dad’s fault. If they hadn’t created a scene last night, she would have got up on time. Serve them right! She would show them that she couldn’t be bossed around!
The day somehow dragged to an end. It was time to go home again, and Kusum was feeling a secret dread at the thought of her unmade bed. It was one of Mom’s ironclad rules that her bed had to be made before leaving the house. Mom would be very angry. Last time she had left the bed unmade, Mom hadn’t allowed her to go out with her friends for one week. And Uzair’s birthday was tomorrow! Supposing Mom got really angry and didn’t allow her to go for the movie with the rest of their friends? Maybe she should have made that bed. She had had to miss her first lecture anyway. It would have taken just two minutes to fold the sheet and spread the counterpane. After last night, Mom would be angrier than usual when she found the bed unmade. What would happen now?
She entered the house with some trepidation. Mom was placidly making sheera in the kitchen, sheera was Kusum’s favourite dish. And her bed was neatly made.
