My morning struggles

“Its 7o’ clock!!!” my cousin shouted in my ears this morning. She shouted because she was absolutely disgusted with me. Since the last four days I have been asking her to wake me up early. She tries but has never succeeded; not even today.

I woke up at my regular 8.30 with a start- oh no! It’s the first day of your 2nd semester and you’ll be late” I shouted at myself. Then began my race against time - 30 minutes, and a hundred things to do. Finally I managed to get ready by 9:15. I was already late. So, I took an auto thinking it would be faster than the DTC bus. In spite of paying the driver 60 rupees he reached me10 minutes late. I was late to the first class of reporting and editing.

Well, this is what happens quite frequently. I have a soft corner for my ‘subah ki neend’. It’s the best during the 5-8 am period. At 7am usually I’m done with my sleep but I extend it to another hour. During that hour I curse the very idea of getting up early in the morning. I keep my eyes tightly shut and try to go back to that generous but unfinished dream. I don’t know why, but every time I get to the climax, the sequence of pictures, gets disrupted. As if some one tries to tease me! Finally, frustrated and disappointed and also with the hope of finishing the dream with ‘a happy ending’ the next time, I enter the daily routine.

Winter mornings are exceptionally ruthless. Sometimes I wonder why nature didn’t make human beings capable of hibernating.

It’s such a shame- I being a journalism student just cannot afford to be so fond of my extended sleeping hours. I’m trying hard to include ‘17. Wake up early’ to my year 2008 resolutions. Believe me; I’m struggling very hard to add the 17th entry to the list.

I don’t even remember how many years have been spent struggling over this issue. When I was in school, I was the famous ‘late comer’ to the bus stop. 9 out of 10 days, I would catch the bus only by running after it for about 50 metres. The remaining one day when I would be on time, it used to surprise my friends. They would immediately look out for the sun “just to make sure whether it was out from the right direction” while I stood and looked around with an embarrassed expression on my face.

On my everyday sprint to the bus stop (and beyond) I used to cross these two aunties who are regular morning walkers. They would invariably give me bright smiles. I used to smile back in spite of the great hurry.

The best sprint happened this time when I was back home for the winter break. Some of us (the ex-students) decided to go to school and meet our teachers and spend some time in the beautiful school campus which we were so fond of. I suggested that we go by the 7.30am bus. Every body wanted to go by the 2nd bus i.e., the 9am bus. But I insisted that we go by the first bus. As I was keen to get the ‘feel of going to school’. And, I did get the ‘feel’!

I had just taken a bath when I heard the screeching noise made by the bus. Suddenly I remembered how I had always feared this sound, which usually signalled towards the prospect of my having missed the bus. I darted to the balcony to check. Indeed there stood the white ‘Maan Travels’ bus getting loaded with kids of all sizes.

Then, started the storm inside my house. I violently tried to comb my hair while mummy tried to stuff a huge water bottle (which she insisted was small) inside my handbag. Papa just stood there smiling. My grandmother called out from the balcony “meet the new principal. I know you haven’t met him...but go and talk to him…touch his feet…he will like to know what the ex-students of the school are doing…and remember…” rest of the words I couldn’t catch as I had already started my race. I almost jumped down the 72 steps – three at a time.
After that, began my 50 metre sprint. I turned my head and waved at my mother who stood at the balcony waving at me (like she has always done).
I crossed those aunties who flashed their brilliant smiles. I smiled back while running with all my might. I heard one of them say “she will not break her record even if she goes to school once a year!”

I boarded the bus which was waiting for me (thanks to my friend)…and my smile broadened.

Meeting Guru Nanak

My grandmother once returned from ‘Aashirwaad’ (the senior citizen’s club) and told us about an old Punjabi woman …Parmindar Kaur. Apparently she was a new member of the club. My grandmother was extremely excited because she had just heard Parminder Kaur’s ‘real life story’. This was her story:

Paraminder Kaur was only 15 years old when she was married into a large Punjabi household. Her husband was the eldest among the 10 brothers and sisters.

Immediately after her wedding she was introduced to the kitchen work. In the beginning her mother-in–law and sisters –in-law guided her through the process. But soon, the baton was quietly passed on to her.

Thus, began Parminder’s struggle to serve a hungry family of 10 young members, a quiet father-in-law and a demanding mother-in-law. They all liked their rotis served hot with a layer of ghee on top. The loud demands for the second and third helpings made her nervous. Soon, began a shower of verbal abuses on her; mainly by her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law. She was accused of being inefficient and incompetent. Her husband never interfered.

One day when the verbal abuses turned physical, Parminder decided that she would not tolerate any more and declared that she would leave home. This brought only a sarcastic smile from her mother-in-law.

That night Parminder wept and packed her belongings into her small bag. At the crack of dawn she took her bag and quietly went towards the back door and was dumbstruck!

There in front of her stood a tall man with a white beard. He wore white and immaculate clothes. There was an aura about him and, he held a long stick. Parminder stared at this huge figure for a few seconds…awestruck. She ran towards the front door to find the same man right in front of her. Parminder was shocked. She went back into her room.

The next day saw Parminder working in the kitchen. Her mother-in-law just said, “I thought you were gone!” followed by a wicked laugh.

That evening while rolling out the chapattis, Parminder quietly narrated her experiences of the morning. There was a sudden silence in the dinning room.

Parminder’s father-in-law, who had been listening to the narration all this while, called her , held her hands and said, “puttar, please don’t go! It was Guruji whom you saw this morning….he tried to stop you! Tell me what you want …anything…but please don’t go!”

“A bigger tawa”, said Parminder.