I don’t like to whine – no, really! – but what do you do when you’re counting on the support of your loved ones and they go AWOL? One day, you’re chugging along just fine, hoping for nothing more than a warm room and some ice in the fridge when you return from another gruelling day at work, the next you find that all incumbents have fled the house, claiming they’d posted the information on the family wall some weeks ago, and why should they need to send out reminders?
The first to pack and go was my daughter, who argued that there was a wedding in Abu Dhabi she’d been invited to — “my friend’s best’s friend’s kid sister” — so, how could she not go? I insisted she should at least visit the Louvre there, and she said fine, will you pay for the tickets? When I agreed, she forwarded me the entire list of baraatis names. “Everyone thanks you for your generosity,” she told me on her way to the airport. But the wedding was just an excuse for a holiday, and she and a bunch of cavalier friends extended their trip to Istanbul – where, I’m happy to report, it’s sub-zero and snowing, and not quite the trip they’d planned. And even though they’re headed for sunnier Cappadocia next, the weather forecast says there’s likely to be sleet. Which means they’ll freeze on their balloon ride irrespective of their inners and thermals, making her — I hope — regret her decision of abandoning her caring father and the comforts of home.
The next to go was my wife, who upped and decided she had work in Jaipur. Who has work in Jaipur? That her “work” coincided conveniently with the Jaipur Literary Festival was enough to make me suspicious of her motives, especially when she downloaded a list of authors speaking at the event “just in case I have an hour to spare”. I heard her setting up lunch and coffee meetings with friends who were all headed to the same place, and it didn’t sound like work at all, nor has she indicated when she’s likely to return, which would not have been a problem if there wasn’t maintenance work going on in the house that needs supervision. That there’s cement grit on the floor, and the geysers have been removed from the wall, isn’t helping matters any.
This morning, my son departed for an office offsite to Dubai, which seems like an excuse to go binge shopping, since there’s little else to do there, unless you’re excited about riding some overgrown children’s motorised tricycles in the desert. I suppose you can’t help having to go when the office summons you, but somebody will have to explain how his girlfriend just “happened” to have booked a holiday in Dubai along with her sister at exactly the same time. Because I pointed out the obvious as an attempt to pull wool over my eyes, my son has labelled me “cynical”. Me? Cynical?
Did I forget to mention that last week, my mother purloined our cook Mary because she was having trouble on the staff front? So while she’s being served hot dosas on cold mornings, I’m having to make do with slapdash sandwiches, walk the dog, and administer the rest of the staff that chooses to come at its will now that memsahib isn’t around. All this when the office has imposed a strict check on attendance and timings. Here’s hoping it rains on all their parades.
