Chokri needs naukri

It's not from a lack of trying that mom is still filling out "Occupation: Homemaker" on official forms in triplicate.

It's been roughly nine months since she contributed anything of value to this household, other than made-from-scratch banana/apple pancakes drizzled with honey as a breakfast treat on Sundays. A cursory browsing of jobs on employment Web sites paints a grim picture of available openings in her field.

"See? That's why you should do computer courses," says grandma helpfully. "How much did I ask you to at least do an MBA when the children were younger?"

Mom’s inbox fills every day with mass e-mails generated by placement agencies addressed to “Dear candidate,” offering positions in every field but her own.

"What is expected CTC, ma'am?" recruiters want to know even before they say hello.

"C-what?"

"Cost to Company."

“What exactly does that mean?” asks mom, convinced that it's a marketing term like USP that's used ubiquitously in India.

It turns out, CTC is a fancy term for 'compensation' in acronym-loving India. When mom indicates what her expected CTC is (which is considerably lower than what a dollar-earning janitor would make) she never hears from these recruiters again.

One placement agent got back with the following job offer: "Ma'am, we're looking for attractive marketing professionals to market our product in Chennai and Bangalore."

"What product?" asked mom suspiciously, when she heard that "attractive" was a prerequisite.

"It’s a famous whisky brand. We’re India’s largest …”

“Sorry, I’m not interested,” mom cut her off, irritated firstly that the woman was offering her a sales job she wasn’t qualified for, and secondly, for asking her to peddle a product that tastes like Waterbury’s Compound.

Interviewers so far have fared no better. “Would you be able to work from Chennai for three days and from Bangalore for three days?” asked a director. “Of course, we’ll give you Sundays off.”

“Where was your father working?” another interviewer wanted to know. “What about your father-in-law?”

“Tell me about yourself,” asked a Human Resources manager, drawing an Om on the paper in front of him before taking notes. When mom launched into her qualifications and work experience, the man stopped her mid-sentence and said, “All that is in your résumé. Tell me about yourself. Where does your mister work? How many children do you have? What are their ages? First one boy, second one girl aa or first one girl, second one boy aa?”

So far, other than her age, mom has been asked every red flag question that featured in a harassment training program she attended at her last workplace.

“See how tough it is to survive in India?” pointed out grandma. “Take my advice and do what my neighbor’s sister-in-law’s cousin’s daughter does. She moved back from Atlanta and now teaches at her children’s school. You can ride the school bus with them, have lunch on campus and the children might even get a discount in the tuition.”

There’s just one problem with that picture.

If mom could teach, her five-year-old would be reading by now instead of flipping through picture books. Not only that, she might even be wiping her own rear end after using the potty.