The beginning of the end

I wish I could say that the reason for this blog hiatus is because mom is busy settling a new family member in. But the big news from her side is that after a year's sabbatical, she’s back in the work force. After driving 60 miles a day in her previous position, mom’s new workplace is a hop, skip, jump away from home.

The biggest blessing - aside from the paycheck, return of self-confidence, feeling of usefulness, etc. - is that dad is home. While mom’s gone for nine plus hours a day, he answers the doorbell for the courier guy, Bigflix guy, other random doorbell ringers, decides on the dinner menu and instructs the cook, ensures the children are fed after school and done with their homework, shops for groceries and acts as mom’s chauffeur by ferrying her to and from work.

Given the unconventional work hours (11 a.m. onward), mom starts her day with yoga classes in the morning. Bending and stretching after breakfast makes her feel better when she goes up to the chaatwala at work and orders a fried dish and gulps it down with a glass of freshly-squeezed musambi juice.

After suffering, yes suffering! as a vegetarian in U.S. cafeterias, mom is grateful for the subsidized Indian buffet spread and sandwich counter at work. The men behind the counter may not wear gloves, but they're willing to customize the food (mirchi kum; butter beda) and apt to turn the other way when people help themselves to a cup of yoghurt or rice from the buffet bar without paying the full meal price of Rs. 40.

A big jug of complimentary buttermilk arrives at noon in the break room, and three kinds of biscuits (salt, sweet, 50-50) are available all day to complement endless cups of masala tea, hot chocolate, badam milk, coffee and hot milk.

Despite distractions, such as hot samosas on rainy afternoons and impromptu birthday parties thrown for co-workers, mom does manage to get some work done - just in case you're wondering.

Evenings are spent wistfully glancing out the office window to watch the sun disappear behind buildings, and by the time she reaches home, the kids are yawning and rubbing their eyes. Mom’s own eyes start to droop after dinner, and she gratefully hits the sack, only to start her day at 6:30 the following morning.

School holidays allow her the luxury of spending an extra hour in bed until the maid rings the doorbell, but despite her tight schedule, mom now understands why some RNRIs are reluctant to go back.

"Who will leave this aaram zindagi and go back, yaar?" declared a Bay area-returned neighbor.

A few weeks ago when she was jobless and had nothing to lose, mom would've raised both hands and half her body in the air.

But, now, as she looks at the flowers in her lawn (courtesy the gardener), surveys the somewhat clean house she returns to (courtesy the maid), slides behind the wheel of a car that's been hosed and wiped down (courtesy the car cleaner), and tucks into the warm dinner that's laid out on the table each night (courtesy the cook), mom feels she almost knows what the neighbor means.

She'll probably raise only one hand in the air now, rather slowly.