As a kid, she loved to play house. Wearing a dupatta, she
would take on the role of the housewife. Never the husband, never the kid; she
would always want to be the wife. The term ‘home maker’ was still alien. The
wife could say goodbye to the husband and kids, finish the household chores and
cook for the family all day. It was, indeed, the most important role.
After the fake dusting with a handkerchief, and the cleaning
of the same handkerchief to suggest washing of clothes, she would begin
cooking. The gleaming kitchen set was all hers to create magic with. She would
take the little kadhai, put is on the wobbly stove and begin to make paneer. It
was always paneer – it sounded fancy enough, she thought. Like in a cookery
show, she would say it loud, “…in goes the paneer, the tomato and salt”. After
a minute of stirring with the barely-able-to-hold spatula, she would taste and
say how delicious the sabji was.
Then it would be time for the husband to come home. Ting-tong. She would open the door and welcome
him with a glass of water. He would be tired, too many meetings at work. She
would listen to his office talk, and talk about her day too. Dinner would be
served lovingly. She would wait for him to take the first bite and appreciate
the food. He would, and also be impressed by how clean she has kept the house. A
few laughs and it would be all nice and happy always.
Always.
Baby, let’s play house.
