The Hindu Business Line : Beneficial concern

Anuradha's daughter, Prema, left for the US six years ago to join her husband, Anand, who is a university professor. The choice of the groom was quick, background checks quicker and tying the knot quickest.

Anand would have been lost in niranand (unhappiness) had he been forced to go through the demanding (and much demanded) wedding rituals.

His long stay had sprouted a strong revealed preference for everything quick. He placed a high premium on time. Except leisure, all available time must be used to generate more income, he believed. So he protested against long religious rituals and overruled the voice of the elderly.

A wedding should be as quick as getting a Big Mac in a drive-in, he had said to himself. That's how it was. Almost. Truncated recitations, holy fire and the mandatory rounds round it were all there was to it.

It was not an easy time for the three priests, each insisting on mutually exclusive sets of "must dos," till Anand "suggested" which rituals were a must and which of them not.

He respected his mother-in-law's wish and went through a ritual she wanted.

Age has turned Anuradha's thick curly hair that reaches right down to her knees silver. At 68, her face has few furrows, and there are no bags under her eyes. She says she can run up a hill, but her son and daughter-in-law are hesitant to test her claim.

Her grandchildren are a different matter altogether. They would allow her to fly off to the moon, provided she took them along.

She has always been a bundle of energy, and there was a time, 40 years ago, when she could chase and catch her son in the park. A remarkable feat really, given that she wore the traditional six yard saree (and the inseparable attachments that went with it) and that her son was an unbeatable sprinter in school. What she might have become had her conservative parents allowed her to step out of the cocoon they made to protect her from roving eyes is anybody's guess.

It took six years for Prema to announce that she was going to be a mother. Local sweet shops had a field day as laddus vanished into Anuradha's house. Back in the US, it was time for Anand and Prema to re-assess their priorities.

Prema: Amma was so happy she was crying on the phone.

Anand: I know... I heard it. The phone was on extended speaker mode, and I could hear both of you.

Prema: I wish she were here.

Anand: Of course, she will be if you want her to be. Just say so and it will be done in a jiffy.

Prema (pauses and looks at Anand): That's interesting! You are agreeing with me for the first time. What's up your professorial sleeve, Anand? How come you agreed so fast? Sollungo (Tell me)!

Anand: Give me a break, will ya! (feigns to frown at Prema) I agree to do something you want and you hunt for a hidden cause. Poyya (Buzz off)!

Prema: I know you so well, Anand. I don't have to refresh your memory about my struggles to convince you. And always your decision prevailed.

Anand: Enna solray (What are you saying)? Didn't I respect your decisions on how the house should be designed and what the interior décor should be?

Prema: Ha, ha, what a joke! You agreed because your friends and their wives rubbished your artistic sensibilities. "Stick to your teaching and research, and leave the décor and designing to Prema," they said. You fought back but lost. You rubbished my suggestions at first. And thank God you asked the opinion of your friends! It would have been a disaster had you designed the house. You can draw analytical diagrams well, but your taste in space and colour? Forget it!

Anyway how have you justified to yourself the idea of bringing mom?

Anand: Okay, since you insist on looking at it that way, I will tell you. (Picks up his writing pad and pen) Say, Nancy, my graduate student, baby-sits for you. The market rate is $7.50 an hour, but since she is my research assistant, she has agreed to $5. So given your office hours, including the commuting time, it would cost us $50 a day. If you want her on the weekends, it will be $8 an hour up to five hours in one block. That would mean $80 during weekends. Or $330 a week. If you want her to continue this for 30 weeks after delivery, it will cost us $9,900. Insurance does not cover babysitting. Add to it, the pizzas and colas ordered during her time here. Hey, you are talking about $12,000 at least.

Prema: Aha, ada sollungo (tell me that)! I was wondering, how the financial wizard was suddenly so agreeable to my idea. And then what? How will my mom help you save this massive amount?

Anand: Don't be nasty, Prema! The difference Amma will make is not all financial. The child will learn our cultural values and the language from her. It will grow up to be a healthy individual. I want that no less than you do.

Prema: And there would be sambhar, rasam and paruppupodi as well. What will be the financial savings, tell me that.

Anand: The return ticket between Mumbai and the New York Kennedy airport costs

Rs 40,000, about $800. Her stay here will hardly cost anything. At most, $1,200 a year. Even if she bought things worth $5,000, it would still save us the huge expense on a hiring a baby-sitter from an alien culture.

Prema: Pramadam (Great)! You are a wizard who can reduce a human being to a greenback. Why decry the local culture as alien? You swore by it. At our wedding.

Anand: Aiyo!! Ni enna ollarray... ? (Oh my! What are you blabbering about...)

*******

Racy@TheHindu.co.in

http://RacyCases.blogspot.com

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