Chai is a staple each morning in every household. Be it the dhaba style chai of North India or filter coffee in the South. The purpose is the same. To make you rise and shine. To give you that caffeine kick in the morning. Specially to the mothers, charging them to get up and get ready for the power packed day ahead. A friendly reminder, there are no Sundays for mommy.
Tea is an elixir, and for the likes of me sipping from that cup it is nothing less than Amritdeduced from Sagar Manthan. It is the much deserved ‘me’ time.
A month had passed, a month of sleepless nights. A month of bouts of waking up. Waking up to feed, waking up to soothe or to wipe that poop away. Having a hard time just to keep those eyes open ,she could now do it like a pro with them closed . And jokingly tell her expecting friends that she was a living proof that you don’t need to sleep to stay alive.
She was craving to talk to someone about anything and everything beyond baby. She could discuss Olympics or Trump and Hillary Clinton. She even had an opinion about GST. But all that everyone around talked to her was about breast feed or bottle. Which brand of diaper. Is she colic. Her only solace came from apps on her phone. mycity4kids became a friend. She would cry at times reading those blogs, crying at the irony. Or laughing at times thinking , Oh! this is so me. And at other times making a mental promise, I won’t end like this.
Months had passed. Her baby was now toddling around. Semi solids had brought in the craving to pick up and put everything in mouth. She felt like a satellite, hovering above her daughters head 24/7. And if this was not all , the universe was conspiring against her. The moment she turned her head away the baby would have a fall. A weekly bump on the head became a ritual.
Today was different. Today she made a cup of tea and carefully placed two Marie biscuits in the saucer. She had decided to create that me time. She had earned it. She smelled that brew and opened the newspaper. She flipped the page, picked up the cup and brought it close to her lips. That was the exact moment she heard her name being called out. Her daughter woke up. And needs to be fed.
‘I’ll be back tea, thats a promise‘ she covered the cup with the saucer and went to the room.
Fed her daughter, by that time her husband was ready. Served the breakfast, had a toast with butter herself,packed the lunch and both of them kissed daddy a goodbye.
Happily she returned to that unattended cup. Warmed it. And sat down to sip it when her daughter puked .
The dilemma,daughter or tea. A mother won. She left the cup and went to the bathroom to clean her child. Now the baby was hungry again.
Bathed her, fed her, put her to sleep and quickly collected all the toys spread across the living room. She also decided the menu for dinner, chopped the vegetables and put them on gas to cook.
She disposed off this cuppa and made a new one, the aroma of tea leaves brewing was intoxicating. She poured the tea through the strainer and smiled. Suddenly her phone rang. She forgot to keep it on silent mode. How could she ? Her daughter woke up before she could find the phone.
Alas ! Hungry again and wanting to play. She fed her a banana ,while her daughter made a mess of her toys again. She wasn’t complaining. Rather she was always fascinated at the being she had created. There was so much she wanted to do for her child.
She rolled the chappati with the vegetables she cooked that day,grabbed her roll and put her daughter in the pram.It was evening walk time. It was a ritual. She wanted her daughter to appreciate the outdoors and fall in love with the nature.
Daddy came back right on time, and their daughter welcomed him with the warmest smile ever. He cuddled her and asked her to lay down the dinner. He was starving. She hurried to the kitchen and with the corner of her eyes kept admiring her husband and daughter.
Suddenly she heard her name being called again,’Meera,whose cup of tea is this?’
She let a puff of air escape her mouth and murmured,there is always Tommorow.