|
Young World
The hip, cool one
RADHA PADMANABHAN
|
She entered their lives like a whirlwind. For one thing, they changed their food habits. More was to follow... !
|
She came to stay with me for a month. She was doing a law course and had a placement at the Consumer Action Group. She came like a whirlwind and like a whirlwind, she departed. We live in a flat, but I gave her a room all to herself with great difficulty knowing well how girls these days like their "space.'' Within minutes of her arrival, she opened her trunks and flung things here and there. The tidy room was a total mess, but I smiled at her indulgently.
My whole lifestyle changed. And even my outlook on life. For breakfast, she had only a glass of skimmed milk and ate a pear or an apple with its tough skin on. She looked on in disapproval while we grandparents tucked into dosais made with, of all things, ugh, oil. Hadn't we heard of cholesterol that clogs our arteries? Why must we persist in this foolishness? For lunch, we had three helpings of rice which made us feel guilty while she had only one! She made us change our food habits drastically. Hadn't we heard of Andrew Wheel? We are now on a diet and are perpetually hungry.
And she also made me change in many other ways. I like to keep my flat as tidy as I can. "Ammamma'', she said. "Relax. Sit down and talk to me...unwind, it will do you good. You will not scold your servants as often as you do.'' So I unwound, allowed the shelves to grow dusty, became lazy and generally let go.
She was an environmental activist and would not allow any plastic bags to be used in the house for shopping. She got me a cloth one and if ever I forget to take it while shopping, I would sneak into the flat, disappear into the kitchen and get rid of the plastic bags.
She came to Chennai along with a batch of law students who had "placements'' in various institutions in the city. After work, she was back at 6.30 in the evenings. A cup of milk and perhaps another apple and then she was on the phone. The phone calls would last pretty long and hardly had she put the phone down than would she get another and yet another. If she was not on the phone, she was on the Internet chatting away with people she had left behind in Hyderabad.
She thought I lived in the Victorian Age because I asked her not to come home too late in the evenings. She reminded us that she had turned 18 and was an adult and could pretty much do what she liked.
Her clothes were made of handloom material and vegetable dyed, the colour of which would run and even bleed at times. So I had to keep a sharp eye on the washing lest the colour from a kurta of hers would rub off on to a spotless white shirt of her grandfather's.
She had to attend a formal function and had to wear a saree which of course she did not possess. She looked through my wardrobe with great distaste. The Conjeevaram sarees were too loud and showy for her. The jari anyway was too heavy. Where did I think she was going? To a wedding? She was going to a conference where people dressed elegantly and with taste and sophistication. But where could I get a saree which was not silk but would remain uncrushed the whole day? Synthetics, of course, were taboo. To my relief, she finally chose an Orissa cotton saree.
When her grandfather gave her a sum of Rs.800 to buy a salwar kameez set for Deepavali, did she walk into a decent shop and buy herself a cotton one? She came home one day jubilantly after buying dress material sold on the pavements of Chennai. "I can make four sets for the price of one,'' she said triumphantly. I sighed as I thought this good looking granddaughter of mine could still look good in whatever clothes she chose to wear. Whatever she is, she is extremely lovable. And I thank God for her.
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Young World
|
