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On the Queen of the House
The morning alarm rang duly at 6 O’clock. As if she was already awake, she leapt to turn it off without disturbing her husband sleeping right beside her. Sitting on the bed, she tried to find slippers on the cold floor, and then stared at the ticking clock aimlessly. After a few moments, gathering her power, she rose from the bed for a long day waiting for her. First thing first, she went to the kitchen and filled a big pan with water to put it over the stove. The hot water would be used later as they didn’t own the geyser. But without waiting for it to get warm, she brushed herself and splashed her face with cold water. She shuddered for a minute, and then wiped her face from towel. In the mean time, the milkman arrived at the door. Carrying the pan and covering her head with Dupatta, she brought forth the pan standing behind the gate. It was time to prepare for the breakfast. Belan, Tawa, Chimta, Tasla… all the utensils required to start cooking. First she boiled the milk, prepared tea and kneaded the dough. Washing her hands afterwards, she went back to her room to wake her husband up. “Wake up, its half past six.” was the simple short sentence. No greetings, no smile. Just an assertion that the new dawn had arrived. The husband rose lazily, yawing and opening his jaws to full length. His molars appeared yellow with plaque. “Begum, press my khaki trousers and white shirt. Today I have to go to head office.” He said and disappeared into the bathroom. And it was the first order of the day that she received to fulfill. The morning dew had already wet the clothes on the laundry rope.
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Nevertheless she gathered them all and started pressing with hot iron, just calibrating the temperature so that it would neither burn the garment, nor leave it moist. “Begum, Naashta!” was the second order. She hurriedly switched off the iron, and placed the clothes over bed. In the kitchen, she poured some Ghee over Tawa and flattened the big ball of dough with Belan. “Hurry up Begum, I am getting late.” “Please change your clothes first; it’ll be ready in a minute.” She said from the kitchen. “Just bring the Naashta first, will you? From tomorrow onwards, try to get up early in the morning.” She can sense the anger rising on her husband’s voice. Hurriedly, she lowered the hot Paratha, poured the tea and milk and delivered silently to her husband. He said nothing and started eating silently. “Umm…there is no money left in the house, can you give me some to buy grocery from the market?” she asked. He stared at her, obviously disliking the unwanted comment. “How much do you need?” “Around hundred.” “I can give you only fifty. Here take it.” He took out his wallet and handed a single note with his greasy hand.
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She took it silently. He left the Paratha half-finished, sipped the tea with slurping sound and went to change the clothes. She collected the dishes, went back to the kitchen and washed them. “I will be late today. Don’t wait for me at dinner.” He said while walking hurriedly towards the gate, and then left the house. No greetings. Seven O’clock. Time to wake up and prepare Munni for school. On a Charpoy, under an old quilt and a thumb in her mouth, Munni was sleeping soundly. “Time to get up little one.” She said softly. Munni didn’t even stir. “Get up dear, or you’ll be late for school.” She insisted. With a crying face, little girl woke up. But her mother took her in her lap and went to wash her up. She changed her school uniform, and then gave her breakfast, which Munni didn’t like at all. After picking the school bag, she locked the front gate of the house, tightened the key on the corner of her Dupatta and the mother and the daughter went on the way to school. Minutes later, she came back at home after leaving her daughter in school. She had to decide what to do now, start working on the chores, or have some rest. She preferred to have some rest.
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But then the electricity went out, slowing down the ceiling fan with diminishing rotations. The tin roof warmed up by the rising sun, perspiring her lying on the bed. Reluctantly she got up to start the chores. First she made a late breakfast for her. A simple Roti with tea. Then she took out the broom and mop to clean the only two rooms and the verandah. Collecting the left over clothes and dusting the shelves, she moved towards the gate and swept the porch. A strange looking man with curved moustache stared at her. Leaving the porch unfinished, she hurriedly closed the door and went inside. Before midday, she planned about the lunch and the dinner. Checking the stock in the kitchen, she found only onions and tomatoes rolling in the basket. No meat, no lentils. So she had to buy something to prepare the meal. As the clock struck one, she picked up her Dupatta, wrapping carefully around her, locked the gate and went to the market, ignoring uneasily the strange looking man still standing in front of her home and staring at her. Keeping in mind that she had to be careful with the shopping, she bypassed the meat shop. “How much for the cabbage and potatoes? “ she asked the grocery man. “Baji potatoes 40 Rupees kilo, cabbage 15 Rupees kilo.” “No it’s too much, I bought potatoes in 30 Rupees yesterday from next shop.” She bargained.
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“Then why don’t you buy it from next shop today as well?” The grocery man didn’t like to bargain at all. “OK, give me half kilo potatoes and one kilo cabbage.” She ordered while calculating the sum in her brain. That leaves only 15 Rupees in her hand. On her way back, she saw the new edition of monthly Pakeeza, the woman digest, but the price was 25 Rupees. Even if she liked, she can’t afford to buy the magazine, at least for today. While returning back from the market, she picked Munni from school, and all the way, Munni told her about what happened today in her class, which she never listened carefully. When she reached near her house, she was relieved that the strange looking man had finally left. Changing the clothes of Munni, washing her up again, and asking her to have some rest, while she prepared the meal. “What are you cooking today, mother?” asked Munni. “Delicious potatoes and cabbage.” Replied mother in a fake tone. “I don’t like to eat vegetables.” Munni said, making her face in disgust. “Don’t say that, vegetables make you grow faster, and stronger.” Mother replied as-a-matter-of-factly. Cooking done, and having her lunch with Munni, under the tin-roof, a plate of cabbage and potatoes with Roti. She munched it while urging her daughter to eat the morsels quickly. Then she went to the
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kitchen to wash the dishes and covered the pot with remaining curry inside it. In the afternoon, she left Munni for sleep. And it was the first time since morning that she had a chance to look at herself. A mirror near the table, she picked up and looked at her face. Dark spots under her eyes, few streaks of white hairs…was she turning old at early thirties? She sat on the chair, staring at the gecko on the ceiling. It seemed like ages for her that she had done her BSc. and married to a lowermiddle class family. Her parents wanted to accomplish the ‘solemn duty’ at the earliest. She picked up the magazine ‘Pakeeza’. It was last month’s edition, which she had read and re-read over and over again. She dropped it again. The tin-roof was really blazing hot. Seeing Munni in sweats and ceiling fan at without electricity, she started fanning her with her Dupatta while lying beside her. The electricity came at the wrong time, when both of them were sleeping on Charpoy, the ceiling fan vibrated and started rotating slowly with a noise. It was evening then, Munni woke up and insisted to give her money to buy candies. So she had to give her 5 Rupees from the money she had. It was a balance of 10 Rupees now. Later when Munni returned with packets of Supari and Tamarinds, she showed her anger and warned Munni that it will make her sick.
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Hours passed, she and Munni, under the tin-roof, shared and killed their time talking about everything, mother helped her daughter in doing her homework, little daughter helped mother in washing dishes. It was like two cellmates cut out from the rest of the world, living together. At nine O’clock, she lulled Munni to sleep and covered her from the old patch worked quilt on the Charpoy. By the time the clock ticked half past nine at night, she heard a loud knock at the front gate, immediately identifying the familiar way her husband used to knock. Opening the door, she found her husband holding a bunch of files and with a guest. “Salam Bhabhi.” Said the pot-bellied man, with a Paan in his mouth. She covered her head with Dupatta and nodded. “Begum, two cups of tea, and bring some biscuits. We had some office work still pending, so I invited Ashraf Sahab at home.” Saying that, the men went to the other room and spread the files on the table, and sat on make-shift chairs. The chairs creaked under their weight. She went to the kitchen and found out that there was no milk, no sugar, and no biscuits. And to make the matter worse, she had only ten Rupees. She decided to call her husband, but seeing him busy with the guest, she hesitated, then picking a ten Rupee note, went outside to buy sugar and a quarter of milk, which she can afford in that amount. Later when she appeared with tea-tray, her husband was really
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annoyed and red-faced, obviously noticing the absence of biscuits. “I told you to bring the biscuits.” He said in a bad mood. “Actually the shop is closed now, and there were no biscuits at home. I am sorry.” She replied in a low voice. Then she went to the second room and lied on the bed. One hour later, when her husband fared the guest well, he came in the bedroom, and took off his shirt, still in a bad mood. “Do you want to have dinner?” she asked. “What have you cooked today?” “Potatoes and cabbage.” “No. I am not hungry.” Saying that he rested on the bed right beside her, his face away from her. She was waiting for the whole day to talk to him, just to have conversation after a long lonely day. But she felt that he was in no mood for discussion. She thought she should tell him about the strange looking man with moustaches, and that how scared she was alone at home. But she dropped the idea. “I heard that the neighbors bought a T.V. it’s 20 inch color T.V. I can hear the voice across the wall.” She started the conversation. “Hmm” came the sleepy reply, his face still away on the other side.
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“Can you please come early tomorrow? I was thinking about going to park with Munni.” She asked politely. “No I can’t. It’s month’s end and I am loaded like a donkey with work. And please let me sleep, I am dead tired from office work.” She was silent. All she can see in the dark was his back, and his vest sticking with sweat to his dark brown skin. The electricity went out again, all was dark in the room, and she couldn’t bear the stink of her husband’s sweat. Munni coughed and woke from sleep, crying. She changed her place, went to the Charpoy, took her daughter in lap, and lulled her again. Staring at the tin-roof, counting the ticks of the clocks in the dark and hearing her husband snoring now like a bull, she tried to sleep and closed her eyes. It was same. Darkness. Whether she opened her eyes, or closed it. She can’t feel the difference. At half past 12, the queen of the house passed into the dreamless sleep, to be woken up again at 6 O’clock sharp in the morning.
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Words Translations: Dupatta: a piece of cloth to cover the head. Belan, Tawa, Chimta, Tasla: utensils to flat the dough, bake it into bread. Begum: wife. Naashta: Breakfast.
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Ghee: edible oil. Paratha: fried bread. Munni: Little girl. Baji: Sister. Pakeeza: Pure, a name of woman magazine with fiction. Supari: packet of Sweet Betelnuts. Bhabhi: wife of brother. Paan: red-colored leaf, very famous to chew in India.