It's time

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.