The summer of discontent

It has been a few weeks since my mother and I talked to each other over the phone, having had an altercation that was, shall we say,  unpleasant? My son and his wife too had their first tiff as newlyweds, causing them both to sulk — though they were equally quick to make up. My daughter, whose daily commute takes her from Noida to Gurugram and back, at least has reason to be in a rage on working days. My wife tells me off so often that I can safely say we are in a perpetual state of war. Our driver of many years suddenly upped and absconded, complete with loan and motorcycle, causing the domestic staff to mutter about not being allowed the same privileges as him. It feels like the summer of discontent at home.

I blame it on the heat, which is already at its peak. Normally, by this time, we would be fleeing Delhi, having chalked up our travel plans to parts cooler than the capital in May. Alas, the city’s tryst with the 17th Lok Sabha elections will happen on May 12, considerably delaying our travel schedules. As a result, prices for tickets on even previously unknown airlines have skyrocketed, visa appointments are being offered weeks later, and rumblings about the unaffordability of international destinations is being laid at my door. It was the reason my son and his wife had a tiff in the first place, and even though they kissed and made up, the rumblings have caused unrest at home.

Oblivious to their discomfort, my wife keeps butting in with suggestions about accompanying them. “Can I come to St Petersburg with you?” she asks, when she catches them checking for reservations on the Sapsan high-speed train. “Can we go to Moscow with them?” she checks with me. Quietly, when she isn’t looking, the children change their choice of destination. “They’re honeymooners,” I remind my wife, “we should let them be.” “But they’ve already been on a honeymoon,” my wife insists, “now we must travel as a family.” 

My daughter, meanwhile, is keeping her council. “What are your holiday plans?” her mother asked her. “This and that,” my daughter said ambiguously, “here and there,” which may not have made sense but put my wife off her trail — momentarily. In truth, our daughter hasn’t been able to make up her mind whether to go with one bunch of friends to a favourite city, or with another hoping to discover a yet unchartered destination. I suspect she’s working on the logistics for both but is tightlipped about it in case her mother decides to subpoena one, if not both.  

Since I chose to defer my holiday plans till after the elections, I now find myself in danger of being done out of one entirely. Which must be why I agreed on a whim to sign up for the extended family package to the hills this weekend. It spans three generations and I doubt it will amount to more than a few clan skirmishes over harboured childhood resentments, which is all one can anticipate over a couple of days of being thrown together. Cooler weather should at least ensure there won’t be too many frayed feathers — or tempers. Who knows, maybe my mother and I will even start being civil again.