"I'm going to be so late! It's five o'clock already!"
"Ma'am, can't you see the traffic? It's a miracle we got out of Vile Parle so early! Aren't you from Mumbai? You should have known about the traffic already!"
I could see that Mom was getting irritated by the minute, so I decided to test her further.
"You'll have to excuse her, bhaiyya. She's in a hurry, you know. Just like how you'd be in a hurry to meet your girlfriend at home?"
"Zemirah, mind your tongue!"
I shrugged.
"I didn't even say anything, Mom."
And, I went back to my phone.
The taxi stood sitting there for another ten minutes. Not a word was said between us, and the sweltering heat was only adding to the discomfort. I was getting bored with the music video that I was watching, and I desperately needed some entertainment.
I looked all around me.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF8BEjl0Aco
Our tiny white taxi was surrounded by buses, bicycles, motorbikes and trucks... and people. As someone had once mentioned to me, Mumbai was the city of dreams and people. Every day, millions and millions of people would come to Mumbai to realise their dreams – find their dream ambition, find the love of their life or just find themselves. It's a powerful feeling, no matter what it is. Being the part of a city, it is so easy to forget that each of us has our own stories, while the person next to us might have no idea about it all. That's life, you see. Each of us is fighting our own battles, our own insecurities and own troubles – and it can get easy for people to judge us for no reason at all. Instead, why don't we just shut up and listen to the other person? Who knows, we might just find a new friend within ourselves and in them?
Mom's phone rang, and that broke my train of thoughts. I hated it when people jerked me out of sleep or disturbed me when I was working on something, or even when they started conversations that I had no interest in.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡolj83WpML0
"May I know what's the hurry, ma'am? Is it really about meeting someone out there? If so, you'd better call and tell them that you'll be taking two hours more to reach Marine Drive in this terrible traffic."
Mom finally snapped at him.
"I can see that! Can you please mind your own business now?"
The driver gave her a scowl and fell silent.
"I was saying that for your own good..."306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIM2uRWzkKi
I looked at Mom. She had really changed in the past few months, and I was the sole witness of that. If you're wondering if I'm the heroine of this story, well, not really. The real heroine of this story is Mom, while he could be the second protagonist and I could be the third. If you think that Mom was rude and impolite to the cab driver then you should have met her before her life changed. Or rather, before I changed her life.
More on that later.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRx2SahjZra
First, let me introduce myself. I'm Zemirah Simon, and I'm your average 'rebellious' university student complete with bright pink hair and dark lipstick. I'm twenty-two, and I loved stories and comic books (unlike my mom, who's made of more practical things). Mom and I would always fight about every single thing on earth – right from my career choices, my fun-loving lifestyle (don't worry, I wasn't into tattoos, smoking, drugs or sexual immorality) and my dressing. I can describe her as the most boring person on earth – happy with her life as a high school History teacher, who spoke to no man other than her brother whom I have never seen in my entire life. She was the typical tyrannical mother you have read about in novels, and I was blessed with one of them. However, don't get me wrong. Being Mom, she really does want the best for me – the best job, the best guy and the best of everything else. However, that simply does not give her the right to comment on my choice of clothes, friends or lifestyle. Or even compare how the girl next door seems to better than her own daughter in everything. The secret is, only I knew that Karen had a tattoo of a dragon on her right shoulder and she smoked with the neighbourhood boys in secret. Not that I judged her for her choices, but I simply hated the holier-than-thou image of herself that she presented before Mom.
"Oh, aunty! How are you this morning? I've been missing your pancakes for a while now..."
I hated Mom, but I can't do without her as well.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT5KW9zCc2O
On the other hand, Mom has considerably softened over the past few months and it's not really a secret anymore why. Though one might consider it to be weird, I can totally understand why Mom chose to break out of the toxic patriarchal culture and create a new life for herself from scratch. Born to a lower-middle-class family, it's not that Mom was brought up with a lot of love and luxury. Instead, she had to constantly fight against her family for her education and opportunities to live her life the way she wanted to. Again, it was not as if my grandparents hated Mom. It was just that they wanted to protect their precious daughter from the cruelties of the outside world, leaving her with little to no practical skills in the process. From there, it's a miracle that Mom now knows how to book a flight ticket to Mumbai on her own, and take a cab to Marine Drive. For her conservative family back in Kochi, it's nothing short of a recipe for disaster.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡghjbbopSqC
Before you judge Mom, you better know the entire story. Why was she in such a hurry? Where was she going? Was she going to meet someone? Who was it, and how did she know them?
Was she a characterless woman for travelling without a male relative?306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡckBefnSEmP
"Ma'am, it will take time. I suggest that you take a nap, and I'll let you know when we arrive at Marine Drive."
I looked at Mom again. She showed no signs of sleeping and was staring at something on her phone. Though I knew perfectly well what she was staring at, I knew better than to make a public scandal of it.
However, I was dying for some entertainment.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtkoU7QkfC9
I could have told the driver about my relationship with Farrokh, but the only problem was that Mom didn't know about it. I had no desire to be thrown out of a moving taxi before I got to see the glory of Marine Drive with my own eyes. However, those days were magical – bunking college to meet him in that small ice-cream shop, hiding from our respective teachers as we secretly made our way through the back gardens and once getting caught by our teacher. I managed to slip away from expulsion with a teary explanation of how my mother was seriously ill and that I absolutely needed to see her.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡngURahRsCj
"So, your mother is sick, is she?"
"Yes, Menon Ma'am... I really wanted to see her. Can I please take the day off?"
Menon Ma'am looked at me with her pince-nez glasses, dressed in a starched white sari and her hair swept back in a big bun.
"Zemirah, do you realise that you have missed more than half of my lectures in your first semester alone? How do you think that is going to work out for you in your later years?"
"I'll manage, Ma'am. I really must go."
Menon Ma'am looked at me strangely.
"The last time you used that excuse with me was when I saw you hanging out with that student from the Engineering department at that ice-cream shop. Do you take me for a fool, Zemirah?"
Okay, I was screwed. How did Menon Ma'am see us at that shop? I had made absolutely sure that I evaded her eyes as I climbed the walls and made my way to the main street. Had she seen me climbing those walls? If yes, it was a miracle that I wasn't rusticated from college as I speak.
I remained silent.
Menon Ma'am began again, and this time I was throttling her in my mind.
"Zemirah, I require you to bring me a written explanation from your mother saying that you had indeed gone to see her. If you do not submit that by tomorrow morning, you are not allowed to attend any of my lectures from now on."306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv5y4FpxdyC
It was the last time I ever attended any of Menon Ma'am's lectures after that. Since she was just a contractual teacher for the semester, I didn't face any serious charges for my complete lack of decency. I didn't care about my image before my professors and principal, for I didn't let them have any power over me. I'd been the 'good girl' in school, receiving good grades throughout. When I entered college, I realised that it was time I tasted the freedom that I was strongly protected from at home. Of course, I took care to maintain my grades (I had to think about my future as well, didn't I?), but I was a complete wreck regarding my attendance. I would rather live with a bad reputation in college rather than face Mom and ask her to write me an explanation for my expeditions. I'd take over Menon ma'am any day – that was a piece of cake for me.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYSRm1PiGQD
Twenty minutes had passed by since Mom snapped at the driver, and we hadn't moved beyond a few steps. A romantic Bollywood song was playing on the radio, and I was secretly glad that Mom wasn't familiar with a word of Hindi. For the record, I had learnt some Hindi in school... but fluent communication could still sometimes pose a challenge for me.
"Aaj kal tere mere pyaar ke charche har zubaan par,
Sab ko maloom hai aur sabko khabar ho gayi..."306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsmntYVmYzA
To be honest, I was getting irritated as well and badly wanted to call Farrokh and tell him about the predicament that I was in. I hadn't told him about me coming to Mumbai, as I wanted to wait till things were a bit more sorted out. For that, we needed to reach Marine Drive as soon as possible.
"Are you sure that you want to do this, Mom?"
Mom looked me disapprovingly.
"Zemirah, I've told you so many times to not call me 'Mom'. It's not the proper way to address your mother."
Of course, I wasn't the one to stay silent.
"Well, amma. What you're about to do isn't the proper thing to do as well, you know. What about that?"
Mom looked at me again, this time her expression a mixture of shock and embarrassment.
"Don't you talk to me like that, young lady!"
"Oh, really?" I retorted. "Well, you can't expect me to be the perfect daughter if you can't be the perfect mother yourself!"
Mom shouted back at me with her signature dialogue.
"Do as I say, Zemirah!"
I narrowed my eyes. "Don't you expect complete perfection from me, 'cause you're not gonna get that."
That's when Mom threw her most prized signature dialogue at me.
"Perfection is impossible, and I demand the impossible."
I shook my head.
"You're impossible, and you're going to be highly disappointed in life."306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEYY2F33VgU
Soon enough, the taxi stopped beside a small shop (much like the renowned ice-cream shop near our college). Parched with thirst, Mom bought a bottle of water with some hesitation and handed it to me first – a sure sign of her perfectionist nature. I sighed, took a drink and said, "It tastes sweet, Mom. You can have it."
Yeah, Mom was somehow convinced that water bottles bought from shops are saturated with salt and therefore bad for your stomach. Don't even get me started on the fuss she makes when we go out to eat even in the cleanest and most luxurious restaurant in town.
After what seemed like an eternity, the taxi picked up speed and soon began to overtake the other cars on the street. I fell back in my seat in relief and finally plugged my earphones in.
If you think that you've gotten to know Mom by now, I'm so sorry to burst your bubble. Mom isn't an easy person to understand, I agree. She's annoying, she's hypersensitive about everything and she can be a real bully at times. However, when you really get to know her, she can be the most amazing person that you can ever fall in love with.
She's my Mom. She's Lisetta Simon.306Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNNM113ESfp
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