It was 2 am, and I woke up with the most bizarre thought. Not a dream or a nightmare.But an actual well formed thought.
Those two rosy-cheeked little boys in the movie, BOMBAY? When they were singing “kuchi kuchi rakamma” with Manisha Koirala and Arvind Swamy, did they realize they were basically dancing for their parents to do “the sex”?
Why were they not in school? Why did no one tell the parents it was highly inappropriate content for 5-year-old children to sing? How are they going to support another baby on a single income? Who told Arvind Swamy that white shirts and pants were in style?
I stayed up for close to an hour, with the beginnings of a headache. In the darkness of the night, such thoughts seemed like a huge deal. My husband laughed hard, when I told him the next morning so I gave him his omelette with no salt and blamed it on sleep deprivation.
I feel myself getting more absurd as I grow older, and I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way. Like I’m one of those uncool moms who cannot think beyond motherhood and the top 10 educational apps for kids. I look at life with a fixed, parenting lens and how beautiful, but boring is that? I mean, the cute helper at the store probably sees me and thinks “Behenji” or whatever the equivalent is in Angrezi.
So that’s it! Time to book my next hair color appointment, renew my gym membership and get a pedicure. I’m going to be this hot, hep mom. Ladies and all handsome gentlemen, this makeover is happening!
Wait, Diwali is here. Ok, after Diwali. Or maybe November 1. That’s a good, nice date to start, huh? But we have family parties all of December. So how about the brand new year for a brand new me, right?
Aa beta, tujhe Behenji dikhati hoon.
(Wait, that sounds bad.)