The Homemaker

The alarm rang incessantly. Avoiding the temptation to snooze it, I turned it off. I slowly unraveled myself from the bed and sleepily walked to the washroom. After finishing my morning ablutions, I went to the bedroom and checked on my 2-year-old.   By the time I finished making breakfast, my other half got ready for work. Pressed for time and finishing the breakfast in a hurry, took the packed lunch, left for the office. Half way through my breakfast, my precious darling sounded the morning siren. Attended to him, fed him and left him to keep himself busy in the playpen. Doorbell rang; Gods have showered their blessings on me today. My Kaamvali Bai had graced me with her presence. Supervising her and keeping a watchful eye on my toddler was not easy. It was but natural that the child was everywhere but his playpen! I was a freelancer, consulting for various pharma companies on technical matters. I checked my mail and tried to get several pending tasks out of the way. The baby was tired, gave him a second helping. I put him back to bed for the mid-morning nap. I saw the maid off. What a relief! Now I can get some serious work done. My mobile rang insistently. My neighbor. Kamala aunty, a sixty-year-old was in distress. She said, “My bathroom tap is leaking badly. I know you are good with your hands. Help please. Urgent”. By this time my precious little one had woken up. I carried him along next doors. Aunty was literally in tears. The waters were threatening to ruin her living room carpet. I turned off the valve. Foresighted as I was, I was glad I carried my Bosch tool box. Found the washer had disintegrated. Leaving the boy in the care of Aunty, I went to the nearest hardware shop in my scooty, got some spare washers and set the tap right. Aunty insisted on treating me with filter coffee accompanied by some delicious south Indian snacks.   Returned home, finished my lunch. The baby was ready for the afternoon nap. Thank God for small mercies; I was able to grab forty winks! Ah, some time for indulging myself. My passion is writing. The deadline to submit the manuscript for the novel commissioned by a reputed publisher was looming large. I got a clear sixty minutes to finish a chapter, which was crying for my attention since the past two days. The bell rang; my beloved was standing in the doorstep, ravishing in the official uniform. With tears in her eyes, Ramila rushed to me, imprisoned me in a tight hug and said in a choking voice, “Mohan, how can you be so good? Sacrificing a promising career to promote mine and doing all these thankless jobs!” I patted her on her head and said, “Tut, tut, Ramila! What would your subordinates say, if they see their tough Superintendent of Police in tears, eh?!!”   Penmancy gets a small share of every purchase you make through these links, and every little helps us continue bringing you the reads you love!