Superstitions are hypnotic!

“Change your route you silly girl. Can’t you see the stupid cat just ran crossing your way”, my mother shouted at the top of her voice making herself audible and clear, even from a distant balcony where she was standing to wave me ‘bye’. The shouting had two obvious advantages: first it was audible to me along with others nearby, so that there would be minimum chances for me to disobey; as that would clearly indicate my disrespect for her in front of the society which she knew I wouldn’t dare to. Also it would portray her as a ‘messiah’ for being a true well-wisher, for not only her daughter, but for the entire society at large. It was also a rule of thumb not to shout names when a person was leaving home. I often argued with her asking if calling of names would ease the ill omen to identify its prey. My mother had hundreds of such ‘do and not to do’ list. My grandmother had thousands! Majority of them, I would shun them with my logics, science and justifications. Some I would make mockery of, but some seemed to be so irrelevant that I didn’t feel like wasting a single moment on them. I was labelled as weird and different but that’s the way I had been. I was glad I had my mind in the correct place and functioning right in the same manner it should be functioning.

The poor little kitten had been directionless and was scared of everyone’s angry looks having done no harm to anyone. I took out my car and was about to start it when Mrs Shah came out with her 6 year old child, Pratik. He was having his midterm examinations and the mother felt it was an important day for her child, so had decided to accompany him to the school.

“It’s his maths exam today. Wish him good luck”, she said. Pratik was my daughter’s only friend in the neighbour and I had to behave like a loving and a caring aunty.

“Oh! All the best. How are your preparations”? I could see the white marks of curd on the sides of his unwashed lips. I could guess that Mrs Shah had done all the necessary preparations, but, I was keener to know the practical ones.

Pratik nodded his head and I thought not to bother him much. I waved him and proceeded in the same direction where my mother had warned not to. I didn’t do it deliberately. Just like some low priority things slips out of mind, this warning also slipped out. My mom didn’t seem to approve my decision but there was little she could do about it. I had already reached the end of the lane. She tried to calm herself thinking that while I was chatting with Mrs Shah, a vegetable vendor and a rag picker had already crossed the road. By the rule of first come first serve, I was saved. Going by the norms laid by my mom, I prayed for the good life of the two dedicated service providers of our colony. She went inside the room grumbling with annoyance.

I smiled in my mind thinking I escaped a long route full of traffic by being a little disobedient.

While returning from heavy office work, I had the duty to pick up my five year old daughter from her dance classes. She was a little small for the class but her knack in the field forced us to give in to her decision. I had been reminded by my mom to take her back from the class twice, which made me think about my being a highly irresponsible mother. I wondered why no one ever accused the fathers! Although I started late from office due to some last moment urgency at work, I okayed myself thinking that I could manage to reach on time. I tried my best not to be late and be labelled as an irresponsible, but traffic played the role of the villain. I was around 20 minutes late. All her friends had gone home. She was waiting at the gate busy in her own world. This was an advantage only for children. We adults can’t even imagine entering into their dreamy world. Even if we do, facts and practicality pulls us back. She didn’t have any complains. In fact she didn’t even realize my being late.

On my way back home, the traffic had subsided. I was too eager to reach home and grab a cup of mom-made tea and pakora. My little one was playing with the music system of the car changing one song after another and simultaneously practising her newly learnt mudras in the little confined space she had with the seat belt put on. Suddenly a motor biker using his typical stunts managed to enter through the small gap between my car and the huge bus moving in parallel to me. I controlled my speed to save the biker. The abrupt break caused a sudden jerk. I calmed myself thinking nothing much had happened but drops of blood oozed out from my little daughter’s arm.

She had kept the window panes open and a sharp pointed part which had been protruding out of the bike’s usual place had hit her. She was crying in pain and I tried to comfort her with all my motherly affection.  All my attention had to be now concentrated on reaching home fast but my focus wandered in every direction other than driving.

My little child suffered for no fault of hers and her tears pained me. Nothing could have been a more pathetic situation. I could not stop the car in the middle of the highway just to hug her tightly. I had to rush her to some nearby clinic. Although my practical women side was insisting me to believe that the injury was not severe but motherly instincts pushed aside any positive thoughts. How could someone blame me being an irresponsible mother? I do have within me all the necessary buttons that triggers motherly emotions.

On analysing the cause of the accident, which ideally gave no benefit to anyone, I started thinking about the annoying biker. Its human tendency to feel relaxed after shifting the entire load of guilt from our own self to someone else. Having found the culprit I abused him. So much was the intensity of rage within me that even realizing my little one’s presence, didn’t prevent me from using inappropriate words.

After dressing of the wounds in the nearby clinic which involved some more heart tearing loud wails from my daughter, we proceeded towards home. As I reached our lane to find parking I saw the small kitten once again, this time sitting in the most relaxed position on the cemented slab which was meant for the dhobis to iron clothes. I imagined a smile on its face and clenched my fists in disgust.

My girl out of her childish nature rushed to frighten her and me standing next to her holding her hand tightly, showing full support, picked up a stone and threw it hard on the kitten. Fortunately, I missed the target and the kitten was saved from getting wounded. It just ran out of my sight and I was glad it did so.

Days passed by one by one and the wounds had all healed up. What remained were the scars! I was again and again reminded of the day, and the thoughts of what worse could have happened landed me straight to the puja room. The next few hours went in thanking the Almighty for preventing any mis-happening to my family. I prayed God for being a guardian to our family. 

After a few weeks Pratik came with a box of kaju-barfi. He had performed outstanding in his maths exam and undoubtedly deserved a big ‘congratulations’. My mother on hearing this took out a twenty rupee note and a one rupee coin from one of her old rugged purse and handed over to Pratik. She used these purses for the purpose of storing money and how much she managed to save in different purses was indeed a research question.

Pratik took my little daughter out to play in the park. I watched the little kids happily enjoying each other’s company. I stood there on the balcony watching them move towards the garden when suddenly I found myself saying “Change your route you silly girl. Can’t you see the stupid cat just ran crossing your way”! My mother came from behind and repeated the same with an intensity I felt lower than mine.

She didn’t say a word to me. Only motherly smiles from each other talked. No doubt hers were victorious over mine!