June 7th, 2018 by Ishleen Juneja

My mornings started with repeated enquiries about the status of my lemonade from Maa. I usually reduced the frequency of my ‘casual strolls’  to the kitchen, after receiving disappointing glares from my mother, in self-defence. Almost all mornings were spent complaining about Krishna Aunty, who refused to switch the fan back on after sweeping the floor. The cries were usually accompanied by anecdotes of how I had to leave my reign of privilege to get up and undo the damage caused by her.

No matter the Celsius, my mother had a hard time forcing me into the shower. Or as I see it, I was always a non-conformist fighter. Her key strategies included faux calls to father and an attempt at scary-voice which she supposedly achieved by making it obnoxiously high-pitched. After my bathroom expedition, she would dress me in cotton frocks lined with frilled lace at the edge and braid my hair into two beautiful, neat plaits. The most challenging part of the day was now behind us.

I bounced in the lobby while Dadi directed the vegetables to their ‘designated’ places. In the background, her daily-soap played on the television in her otherwise dark room. Did I mention she is a big advocate for saving electricity? After lunch, all adults took their naps. I was strictly instructed against howling or shouting. I tip-toed around the house, crossing rooms with varying frequencies of snores, in search of my colouring kit. My spot, on the floor next to the huge window in the dining room, could be easily mistaken for a lavish, vibrant food spread. Tiny bottles of Rangeela paints, unclasped and half-dried sketch pens, carefully preserved crayons- I took my job very seriously.

The setting sun lifted numerous restrictions on going out of the house to play. The sound of the mixer brought with it the happiness of mango shake and doubled as a signal for playtime. Aunties came out of their houses to sit together on benches outside Mrs. Kukreja’s house. Their conversations ranged from newly discovered kitchen hacks to unruly daughters-in-laws. Much to our delight, games were often interrupted by kulfi-vendors. We raced back to our homes to get money and in no time, our faces were covered with sweet milk.

After multiple threats, I retreated back-wearing with pride, the multiple wins from today on my face. On rare occasions, Papa brought with him Tutti-frutti ice-cream bricks which made me finish dinner rather quickly on said days.

One of the most memorable of such lazy nights included spontaneous plans to Nainital. The excitement was too much for my little tummy to contain and as a result, I spent the entire night thinking about which frocks to pack.

About Ishleen Juneja

Moody and Opinionated, you will often find Ishleen explaining why she is right. She gets cranky and violent when overworked and firmly believes that she is hilarious. She is a staunch Feminist and is rather creative when it comes to planning murders. Studying Literature, she leads a joyous life.