“You didn’t make coffee for me?” he asked me this morning, his hurt tone half serious.
It’s a normal scene in anyone’s house. Someone makes coffee (especially if it is filter coffee, which takes some making) and everybody’s day starts with the partaking of a tumbler full of aromatic, energizing and hot beverage. It is the necessary accouterment for the daily battle.
No big deal.
Yet, even after a year of being that person who makes the coffee, it seems incredible to me that I am at the center of this ritual, laden with the sub text of home, hearth, “always” kinda routine and–ok, let me say it–gender-based role.
Oh yeah, the cigar is never just a cigar for me.
I’m definitely not a home and hearth kind of person. If anything, that conviction has only strengthened in the past year. I’m not a natural home maker–I don’t enjoy it, I’m not creative about it and I’m not house proud.
I’ve observed people who make beautiful homes, all cozy and tasteful, with a coaster under every glass and lovely patterned pillows on every couch. I, on the other hand, am the sort of the person who, given a three-dimensional space and objects to put in it, will end up making a mess. My spatial intelligence is shot.
And of course, I still resent the automatic gender roles that gets assigned unconsciously, even in my progressive household.
What I am, in my quintessentially Cancerian way, is sentimental.
For those who don’t know, I lost my beautiful, vivacious, smart and creative mother last year, quite suddenly. I spoke to her at 10:00 p.m. the previous night and she was gone at 9:00 a.m. the next morning.
When she went, what I felt was cut off from my provenance, my context, and my cultural heritage. I never followed any of the rituals or celebrated any of the dozens of festivals my parents so meticulously celebrated because when I wanted, I could always go to them. They were MY “always” kinda stability.
My mother especially was my home and hearth. She of the magnificent cooking, richly hued silk sarees, quick laughter, elaborate golu‘s, vibrant social life, and a creaking ‘showcase’ full of pretty knick knacks I picked up from my various travels.
Suddenly, I lost all of it.
When I brought my devastated father to live with me, we had both lost our moorings. And when he was taken seriously ill, it looked like my anchor would be forever lost.
We struggled to get him back home. When we did, I just wanted to continue the heritage. I wanted to do everything my mother used to do, lest we forget.
But making such a transformational adjustment to my personality has been a tremendous challenge. I have to thank the pandemic for removing all choices, so that I could focus on channeling my mother. I guess that is my way of dealing with her loss.
I guess I will revert to my natural personality when I am ready. Or a new fusion personality perhaps.
What helped me through the struggle is a bit of “Just be” philosophy. I didn’t struggle against the circumstances, I didn’t curse the pandemic, I didn’t let the lockdown psyche me, I didn’t get depressed during those days of vigil outside the ICU for dad, nor did I lament about gender bias.
What I did all of last year was to roll with the punches. If we were caught for 12 hours without power or water during the flash floods, we just enjoyed the candle light. If I felt like celebrating a festival, I did. If I felt like doing nothing great, I didn’t.
I didn’t protest. I kept telling myself, “it is what it is.” And that helped incredibly.
I know a lot of you have gone through similar struggles last year. I hope you could resonate with my experiences.
Be well!
Featured art by Priyam Chatterjee
Blue Whistling Thrush 
So lovely. Thanks for sharing.
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Thank you
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It is what it is! Go with the flow.. don’t fight it, don’t curse it, don’t agonise over it…how well I know the feelings you speak of.
Much love to you.
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Thanks. I know you are also going through something similar. All the best to you too.
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thanks for sharing and letting us in thru the window of ur life.
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Thank you!
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It is never easy. It never will be. You will slowly pick yourself up, relive each memory, each song, each joke, a dish that takes you back to a story that you will share with family and friends. You will try to fill the void by recalling your mother’s voice, laughter, an old song you both sang together, or by setting up the golu padi the way your mother did. Time will help you get on with life and take it in your stride. Just go with the flow and let the emotions flow. Take care.
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Thank you for that insightful comment. Her first year anniversary is coming up, so we all are very emotionally charged right now.
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It feels sorry to hear about your loss & thanks for inspiring with such a vibrant piece of writing.
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Thank you!
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This is a sad account, but it’s making me think. We are two people aging together, and when either of us is gone, the other may say what you said . . . that we lost our “anchors.” Here’s hoping you are finding your way albeit a different way.
Thanks so much for following Oh, the Places We See. We hope we bring you a bit of happiness and pleasure at seeing the world through our eyes.
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Thank you for your kind words. I love your blog! You make every place you go special with your great eye for beauty in everything. I was telling my partner this is what I would like us to do when we retire. 🙂
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Please travel as soon and as often as you can. We never know when that privilege will be taken away! Thanks for your wonderful comments!!
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Thank you for sharing your story. And I am so sorry for your loss. Your piece is honest and beautifully written. I sincerely hope that your writing is bringing you some respite🌺
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Thank you – yes, writing definitely helps.
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I’m not a home -oriented person either. My pre-pandemic life largely took place outside the home with work, social plans, travel, etc. Home was more of a storage unit. Having to live there full time was bizarre. Eventually I just had to get to that “just accept it” mindset.
I’m really sorry about the loss of your mother. So hard to lose someone so central like that. I hope that your memories of her will be a source of comfort to you and your family.
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Yeah the pandemic was a paradigm shift, wasn’t it? It continues!
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