Chicago Blues

This blog is an online repertoire of my columns that run in the Indian Express, North American edition. Here I rave and rant about life, mostly as seen from the large vistas of my little world.

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Location: Chicago, United States

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Missing Indi Mom in Windy Chicago

That shrill wailing would’ve shaken even the comatose to life, so I just had to pay heed. My watch read 6:30 am (IST), and although I took a moment to estimate the CST equivalent of it, I instantly realized that my baby girl was only trying to execute her ‘morning’ duties, given that we had only returned the day before, and her sense of time was as obscure as Chicago’s winter. It was 7:00 pm in the windy city, but that mattered little to us - what did, mainly, was the intoxicating aroma of ma’s filter coffee, and, rather inadvertently, the clattering of ‘vessels’ by the maid, back at home in India. Anyhow, groggily rummaging through the diaper bag, I managed to ferret some wipes and a couple of diapers out (although I lost one of those in a brash scuffle with the cabin baggage tag). And then, thrusting the onus on my snoring husband, I snoozed off again.

I have almost unlearnt the art of diapering, as ma handled that, and everything else that encompasses taking care of a baby, and its haggard new mommy. Hence, during my stay at ma’s, I had conveniently relieved myself of all responsibilities; but now, jetlag aside, I have to cope with being a single mom for most part of the day (while the husband slogs to bring home the bread, and marmalade) as well as playing cook, Elmo, gardener, and maid - only, I can’t even clank the dishes to vent out my rage as that would wake the baby. No shopping sprees during the week; no luxury baths; no self-grooming binges; no fresh, piping hot food at every meal; no extra hours of beauty sleep; and specially, no ma. The most that “Patel’s” sells are “Mother’s Recipe” pickles, and even to fetch those in, we must brave storm and snow. But before I can even think of that, I need to refill my rupee-laden wallet with mighty dollar bills; and I may as well combine that with untying my tangled hair, doing the laundry, and rolling out the rotis. But first, I need to use the restroom.

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