Six of us. Friends. Who also happen to live in the same complex. A completely motley bunch of women, each totally different from the other. One a SAHM, who also designs ethnic wear and has her own label. Another, a SAHM with a jewellery designing workshop. The third, a SAHM, who is a qualified Chartered Accountant. The fourth, a SAHM with an MBBS degree. The fifth, a management postgraduate working in recruitment and seriously thinking of being a SAHM. And the sixth, yours truly. Who is totally confused.
What we all had in common was that we are all women, qualified, intelligent, and all having voluntarily opted to put our careers on the back burner because our children are all young right now. There is no ambiguity, the children come first. We may do our occasional chest beating, and hair rending act of the careers we’ve left behind but we’re not harping on it. This was a choice we had to make, and we’ve made it.
Of course, among the many things we discussed yesterday was the very relevant issue of good day care, and its lack hereof in Mumbai. The children, five of them, were collaboratively dismembering every action figure my son owned, and creating a tribal sacrifical altar composed of Uno cards and jigsaw puzzle pieces strewn all over the bed, around which they dance to much hooting. Some stray shooting with toy guns added to the atmosphere.
The occasion was tea. We’d all brought in one dish, which becomes essential when I am the host and no one trusts me to serve up anything edible, so the spread was, as you might say, lavish. Lavish enough for me to sink down into the sofa and refuse to raise myself for love or money once I had eaten. Of the lot, I am the only one who enters the kitchen at gunpoint or at cook taking an unscheduled leave point. Therefore, recipes were discussed. Clothes were discussed. Children, their eating habits or lack of were discussed. Spouses were discussed. And as is essential when women get together in an unfettered manner, topics not suitable for public airing in a blog rated U were discussed.
It was a nice way to spend women’s day. It was one of the few occasions in my life, when plain old cuppa tea has had an effect similar to a couple of pegs of alcohol. Made us all raucous and maudlin in the span of minutes. Maybe the tea leaves were spiked. Maybe we were just having fun.
How was your women’s day?