Mira had gotten up early in the morning; it was 4:30 AM. She had put the potatoes in the instant pot to boil. Simultaneously, she quickly goes and does the morning rituals before descending to the kitchen again, ready to take care of breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Mira had to go to work even though the pandemic was going on. She was a Lab Tech in a laboratory that temporarily suspended its research project to focus on doing COVID tests. Mira lived in Oakville and travelled every day to her workplace in Brampton, the city where the reported cases of COVID was one of the highest.
Mira's job was challenging, but not many people knew of what she did or maybe they didn't focus on it much until the pandemic hit everyone. Even Sarla Aunty, who thought a white coat was only meaningful if a Doctor wore it, now called Mira up to ask her the authenticity of different remedies; she was sent via her 40 Whatsapp groups. Mira's white coat didn't offend her suddenly, nor the fact she had no 'Dr' designation in front of her name. Time changes the best of people; after all, why would a lesser mortal called Sarla Aunty be left behind?
Mira was happy that she was able to contribute to the community. Her diabetes research helped the diabetic patients, but the work she was doing now 'everyone' came to know of, and it was like there was a spotlight on her every time she walked into a room. People knew she was a warrior helping us, protecting us from the enemy called COVID.
A pang of guilt hit Mira; she was thinking of her own family right now. Like any mother, Mira was filled with self-doubt and add to that- this pandemic. In contrast, other working mothers stayed home with their families, Mira still had to go out and that too to deal with tests, which was why everyone was home! She was grateful for the strict protocol put in place that made going to work possible. Behind gloves, masks, glass tubes and cubes, they were safe at work, ensuring her husband and 2 daughters were safe at home.
The years went by so quickly; just a month ago, they had celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary. While most years they would take this opportunity to travel the world, they were home for obvious reasons this year. 15 years, 1 husband and 2 teenage daughters later, life seemed good; it seemed settled in.
Mira opened the inspatpot; the pot in pot method helped her boil daal (lentil) and potatoes together. She then quickly put a pot to boil water for her masala chai, and in another pot, she did the tadka for her daal. While the potatoes cooled down a bit, her tadka was on the daal and was simmering on the stovetop. Her poha was nice and clean ready to be used for breakfast.
Today's menu consisted of Poha for breakfast, daal, rice and yesterday's okra sabzi for lunch. She had dosa batter ready for dinner and would come home and quickly use the leftover boiled potato masala for the masala dosa, which would be accompanied by the Molaha Podi (chutney/ condiment) she had made over the weekend.
Mira lived a very simple life with her family, which consisted of her husband Harsh, and 2 daughters. Mira had dedicated her life to overseeing her daughters growing up to be good, responsible Indian, sorry Canadian girls. Reflecting on their personalities brought a smile to Mira's face. Aditi, 14 and 13 years old Aadya, were staying at home and attending online school. Mira was comfortable knowing that her husband was there to oversee things while she was away. The girls were old enough to take care of themselves but always needed a referee to be around. Mira and Harsh did a good job of that.
She would come back home to a tidy house; she had trained the girls well, just like Mira's mother had trained her. One would do the cleaning up while the other would do the dishes, everyone in the house had a chore to do, and everyone did it well. Mira ran a tight ship; she had to if she wanted to have a sane home. There was a time when she tried to do everything independently, but soon was going crazy, exhausted and resentful of everyone. Now she maintained a balance; listening to Osho's teaching on her ride to work also made her mellow down a bit; she wasn't as hyper anymore about things being a particular way; Osho's audio teachings made a huge difference in her attitude towards life. She wasn't as stressed about what others were up to or didn't bother competing in the rat race of life. She was happy and secure with her grey locks that had started to show 2 years ago. Mira did try to colour her hair a few times, first with henna, then with the store brought hair colour; she just didn't feel the need to hide her age. She will turn 40 in a few months and was ok with what she has achieved in those 40 years. Besides, Harsh actually found her salt and pepper look very attractive.
The chopping for the veggies to go in the potato masala for dinner was done. Now, Mira started with the poha. The daal was ready; in the boiling water, she added fresh ginger, a few cloves and 2 cardamom pods and let it boil for a bit; the masala chai was looking good.
She smiled when she thought of how well Aditi had learnt to make masala chai. Mira's mother had taught her, and now she had taught Aditi. Mira saw so much of herself in Aditi, but she was a lot different when she was her age.
Mira had come a long way from what she was in a small town in Gujarat to now being such an independent woman in Canada. Mira was from Surat, where her parents lived a very traditional orthodox lifestyle. A very God-fearing family with two daughters were extremely strict with their children. Mira had never worn a skirt in her life before Harsh insisted on it during their honeymoon in the Maldives. She drew the line when it came to the swimsuit in public. This brought a smile on her face; how naive she was then.
In school, she used to wear a salwar suit. She had 2 long pigtails oiled with coconut oil that mummy put on her every day. Even before her hair would dry off from a bath, mother would take a bowl of heated oil and put it on her!
Thinking about it, Mira couldn't even remember when she last put oil on her hair. Her dislike of coconut oil was so strong that she never used it on her daughters; coconut oil was banned in her house.
Mira feels a pang of guilt for not doing that, you know, traditional mother-daughter stuff like oiling hair on a sunny afternoon. There is a lot of things that she can't do with her daughters that her mother used to do with her because she's going out to work every single day. A lot of her friends are staying at home moms (SAH) or working moms who are now home because of COVID. Come to think of it, everybody she knows is staying at home these days, except her colleagues who work with her side-by-side every single day wearing their scrubs, standing for 8 hours continuously.
Mira has got used to standing and staying up on her feet; wearing comfortable shoes really helped. But for how long would she be able to do this job? Mira was not sure of it as her knees had started to make her aware of her increasing age.
The poha was now cooling down when she strained the tea into her favourite mug, which Aadya had gifted her for Mother's day this year and sat down to enjoy her quiet time. Her kitchen duties were done for the time being.
Like the quiet time she had on her drive with Osho to work, Mira found this morning time ritual where all her chores were done; she would sit and drink her chai calm before the day's chaos.
Those 15 minutes while she sipped her hot tea alone, quietly in the silence of the early morning right before dawn, she would sit on her favourite chair and enjoy the hot chai. She would contemplate on so many things, her experiences, aspirations and dreams. This was when she spent time with herself, not calculating, not planning for the future but contemplating and reliving the past.
This year was particularly tough on her and her family. Her mother in law was very ill in February and her husband Harsh had to rush to India to oversee her care. Her mother in law lived most of the year with them, but the winters were brutal in Canada, so she preferred the warmth of Rajasthan, amongst her extended family and friends. Her health took a turn for the worse, and Harsh lost his only living parent. Harsh did the last rites and other rituals amongst his relatives, some of whom he had never seen before, but these people loved his family so much that they turned up for his mother's last rites during such tough times.
Due to Aditi's project, Mira and the girls could not make it to the funeral. By the time Harsh was to come home after finishing off all legal paperwork that needs to be done when one loses someone, the Indian Government had announced the lockdown. Harsh was stuck in India for another 2 months in his childhood home with no one there but the memories of his parents. Being an only child, Harsh always considered as an advantage, until now. He was alone in the world, no one to call his own. Relatives who were now just a part of his memories were what's left of his family roots.
Living in North America had made Mira's family very practical. Although there were many hushed voices that voiced how poor Harsh was left all by himself to take care of everything in India while mourning the loss of his mother. How insensitive of his wife and daughters not to mourn the loss of Harsh's mother.
Only people living in North America know of the limited vacation days they get or of projects and deadlines and how important it was to fulfill them. Besides, Harsh's mother has passed away after the lockdown was announced. There wasn't much that Mira or the girls could do. But no one wants to get into such mundane details when you have a much juicier story to tell than the facts. Mira was so glad to have him home after 2 months. Poor Harsh had lost so much weight when he managed to come home. After the quarantine in their basement, he was able to be with his family. He gave Mira and the girls the biggest and longest hugs of their lives as if holding on to them, and Mira understood this is all that Harsh had left in this world.
Just like her life, there was nothing extraordinary about Harsh, her husband of 15 years. There was no Mills and Boons romance when they first met, nor was there any courtship period romance. Mira and Harsh had a court marriage within a week of meeting one another, and Harsh left for Canada the very next day of the wedding, as he had not planned for an impromptu wedding during that trip. They had a Hindu wedding 7 months later when Mira was all set to travel with him to her new homeland.
They had an arranged marriage, and Harsh was the 4th suitor she saw. Both sets of parents thought it was a good alliance and hence it was decided there and then! Everything happened so quickly for them because Mira's older sister knew the family well. They were related to her husband's family and lived two houses away from my sister's home in Surat. Seema lived 2 blocks away from her childhood home, and Mira could not understand why her mother would want to send her so far away from her to the opposite side of the globe, while Seema Didi lived only 2 blocks away. Maybe she had done something to warrant such treatment from her mother.
Harsh, an IT professional, had just gotten a Canadian PR and had moved there 4 years ago. To leave her family, her parents, everything she knew in Surat and then go to a foreign land made Mira was nervous.
It was with age that Mira realized why her mother was adamant about having Mira marry the Canadian IT boy, for she knew how her older daughter's life had taken shape. Although she lived 2 blocks away, Seema had not come to spend the night at her childhood home since the time her youngest child was born, which was 3 years ago. She would always be in a hurry multitasking duties of being a daughter-in-law, wife, and mother. She rarely found time to put her feet up and relax at her home. Seema lived in a joint family, a family structure still prevalent in most small towns in India. Seema was a Graphic Artist by profession but had given it up for domestic duties. Mira remembered how much of an ordeal it was to plan that Goa trip with Seema and her family a few years ago. So many permissions and approvals of all elders were taken before anything was set in stone. Mira's mother had a strong feeling Harsh was not like Seema's husband, Suraj. She had hopes that she would be wiser in her selection this time.
To some extent, Mira's mother was right; Harsh was a good man; he encouraged Mira to make use of the BSc degree and study further in Canada. She did her course to be a Lab Tech, and soon enough was able to find a job in her field. The delicate porcelain doll had now become a strong, confident, and independent lady.
Theirs was a different kind of love, which took some time to grow, but when it did grow, Mira thanked her mother for her choice. Harsh was a very calm and composed man; he would want his wife to go ahead and achieve things that ordinarily girls from her hometown would not or maybe could not.
Like in all arranged marriages, it took them a while to understand one another. Mira remembered asking Harsh permission to learn how to salsa; she could not believe her joy when he said he would love to learn along with her.
To be honest, Harsh has his set of flaws too, but when you have an arranged marriage, there is only so much you can investigate through friends and family members. Harsh is a wonderful man but too laid back for his own good. He was the kind of man who would wait to be promoted and would work countless hours for projects but never log in the hours for overtime. The finances were all over the place, with him having no clue what to do with his inheritance other than spending it on frivolous things. Mira, though no mathematician, had Gujarati blood in her veins. With a little help from her father took the reins of the family finances and now was comfortably sitting on a retirement fund, savings for the girl's university and still have some leftover for their wedding costs. Had she left this department to Harsh, they might have always lived in a rented basement apartment. But that's what marriage is right you complement each others' strengths and weaknesses.
Their love was like a homemade pot of biryani, which takes a long time to cook, but the end result tastes delicious.
Mira was grateful for all that she had and for all that she had learnt from life. She finished the bowl of poha and now placed the empty bowl and cup in the sink. It was time now to put on her winter jacket and snow boots and leave for work. There was nothing extraordinary about Mira or her life, Mira thought, but for her, the time spent with her Masala chai early in the morning was something else. With that, she locked the door and left in her car, feeling grateful that there was no snow to remove today morning.
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