QUEEN ELIZABETH OF REDDY’S Samira Reddy woke up to the honking of the cars under the building. She rubbed her eyes and tied her hair. She looked at the sun rising and it suddenly dawned upon her. It was the day! THE DAY! ‘She’s coming back!’ she thought. Suddenly, her rude awakening was no matter. She had a lot of preparations to make. She dressed up and shook her husband awake. “She’s coming back! She’s coming back!” she screamed in his ears. He woke up gruffly, barely understanding her. But Samira didn’t care. Her favorite person was coming back! (Yeah, it’s not her mother-in-law) She sang her way to the kitchen with a rare smile on her face. She took out all her recipe books and decided upon a dish from every country. It was going to be a feast. Her visitor was going to be impressed. As she started preparing, her mother-in-law walked in. Samira smiled at her. Her mother-in-law stopped in her tracks, stunned. “Are you having a heart attack, or am I?” Samira laughed and hugged her mother-in-law. “She’s coming back!” she whispered into her ears. The latter must not even have looked so happy on her wedding day. Her eyes lighted up. Her face creased into a smile. She looked younger than any beauty product had ever made her look. That’s what good news does to you. Both the ladies danced. TOGETHER. As the rest of the family awakened, they noticed this. “They’ve finally gone mad.” cried the father-in-law not as much in gloom as in glee. Half an hour later, the table was set for breakfast and the family was settling down. Never had the family been so lively. The children were always happy, but what made it special was the unusual happiness present in the same room as Samira and her mother-in-law together. After breakfast, Samira packed her husband’s and children’s tiffins and saw them off to their respective daily destinations. She then tap-danced her way to the kitchen and continued with the preparations of the evening’s delicacies. As she hummed to herself, she imagined the look on the guest’s face when she would see the preparations. She remembered the look on her husband’s face when she had kissed him on the breakfast table. “Looks like the table and I are both getting laid”, he had said. She had just laughed cheerily and set about her work. The afternoon was spent preparing the feast and cleaning the house. At 4pm, she set of for the market to buy decorations for her house. She’d flicked her husband’s credit card while kissing him. (Yep, housewives are potential criminal masterminds. That’s one resource that will always remain unused.) She spared no expense. Flowers, trinkets, jars, things she didn’t know. The list was endless. She returned home more loaded than a drunkard. She hung the trinkets by the door. She filled the jar with rice and put it next to the door and the plate filled with crushed saffron. She called her husband and asked him to get two boxes of gulab jamuns home. He was returning early. After all, special guests deserve special treatment. After 2 hours, Samira flopped down on the sofa, feeling true bliss. This is what Mahavira and Buddha must have felt like during nirvana, she thought. She picked up the buzzing phone. She smiled broadly as she heard the guest’s voice. She had arrived and was going to take a cab. Samira had offered to pick her up in the car, but she had refused gracefully. Such a great person, yet such humility, thought Samira. Her husband arrived early. Everyone changed their clothes. They were dressed in their very best clothes and decked with jewellery. They all gathered at the door in wait. Samira had a thaali in her hand with some kunku and a diya. Behind them, on the table, lay a feast fit for Bill Gates. They were all trembling with excitement when suddenly the doorbell rang. Everyone went silent. Samira’s son opened the door and threw his hands around the visitor. Samira and her mother-in-law were in tears. So were their husbands. True happiness was being expressed in the form of water, and it wasn’t sweat. Through the door, walked in, the most important part of the household, the powerhouse, the nucleus, the one who controlled them all, back from her holidays, back to them all, their queen Elizabeth – The Maid. Divya Mehta
Posted on: Fri, 16 Aug 2013 17:27:24 +0000
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