25th October 2010
I have yet to understand why women make such an elaborate fuss about packing while men pack without much ado!
I am to visit Bangalore tomorrow. And so, I have to fill a few bags with things I will use there. Of course, I am no travelling circus and so, cannot travel with my entire wardrobe. I am - also - not a mobile library and so, cannot carry all the books I have to. Which is why, I rummaged through my belongings and picked:
Well, all this took me merely 10 minutes to decide upon.
Around the time I took to finalizing my things, Mother Dearest decided to pack a few things as well. Sister Dearest wants a long list of 'few things' to be sent. And the safe places they have been kept in are known only to the Home Ministry. Mother - needless to say - never lets that ministry out of sight nor let it go out of her control. And so she took the list under her care. She re-did the list a few days ago, got it cross-checked with Sister Dearest via Skype, and added a 'few extra things' the day she finalized it all. So the day she was to pack, I thought she'd finish ahead of me.
Well, it turned out to be just the opposite.
There I was at 10:30 am with my bundle of clothes and books waiting to be allocated a bag and there she was with every thing on her list all about the place.
"Mother," I said, "Isn't it high time you just throw everything into the bag?"
"Oh yes yes, I am searching her (Sister Dearest's) cupboard. And it's such a mess."
"So I am sure you're cleaning it up now."
"I cannot leave a mess that way."
"Mother, I am sure that's not on the list."
"Look," she said, determined to silence my innocent logic, "If you like to keep things just the way they are doesn't mean I am about to follow you. And anyway I am not coming in your way."
"But you are, Mother!" I said, exasperated, "We have been trying to finish packing since 9 in the morning."
"So?"
"So instead of just dumping things in the bag, here you are cleaning up a mess that isn't to be packed either."
"Dump things?! I don't dump things!"
"Well why don't you just learn to dump things then? It's so much simpler and faster you know."
"Yes yes, I know. One look at your cupboard is enough to convince me how useful that trait is!"
"Now Mother what you are doing is known as changing the topic."
"I'm not."
"Yes you are. What has my cupboard got to do with dumping?"
"I don't like to dump."
"But why? It's so much faster than keeping things one by one. If I were you, I would have finished all of this by now. Yet here you are still packing!"
"Don't you dare to teach me, okay?" reminded Mother Dearest, "I'll do just as I please just as you do whatever you want to."
And so, in the face of such a water-tight deal, I had to acquaint myself with the art of shutting up and rummaging through my drawer for the charger I had forgotten about.
----
An hour later, Mother had - frankly - done quite a commendable job: I was to carry two bags and she had segregated their contents just the way a woman does - with precision and order. As she went about fine-tuning what I thought was done already and what she thought needed to be wrapped up well, she decided to serve me dosages of the horrors of flying.
"You know Amitabh Bachchan?" she asked.
"No I don't."
"Well," she continued least bothered about my answer, "He flew to London the other day."
"And?"
"And the airline lost his baggage."
"Really?"
"Yes! He was stranded there for two hours! So much trouble no?"
"Yes; and given the fact that I am to fly for the first time, you have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that!"
"Oh don't be ridiculous."
"But of course Mother; here I am flying for the first time and there you are telling me tales from the flying crypt! Next you'll tell me not to poke my head out of the window just in case Dracula drops by for lunch!"
"For your kind information, I know the windows have glass panes that don't open. And it was just his baggage that got lost."
"Dracula's?"
"Bachchan's! Why will I talk of Dracula?! You're hopeless!"
"Well Mother you realize that's exactly what you're making me think about flying?"
"Well," she said laughing, "I was just telling you. It's not going to happen to you."
"Then why tell me?"
"Well, I'm just telling you so that you be careful."
"With my baggage in the cargo Mother, there's no way I can do anything about it unless-"
"Unless what?"
"Unless I ask to be dumped with my cargo."
"You ARE being ridiculous you know."
"Well, that way I guarantee that I and my baggage travel together and onto the baggage-claim counter!"
"You've finished packing, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"So let me pack in peace then. Go do something else!"
I have yet to understand why women make such an elaborate fuss about packing while men pack without much ado!
I am to visit Bangalore tomorrow. And so, I have to fill a few bags with things I will use there. Of course, I am no travelling circus and so, cannot travel with my entire wardrobe. I am - also - not a mobile library and so, cannot carry all the books I have to. Which is why, I rummaged through my belongings and picked:
- Three sets of clothes
- Four lightweight books
- A notebook
- The flight tickets and the necessary identification. Apparently, these days you have to prove that you are indeed what you make yourself out to be!
Well, all this took me merely 10 minutes to decide upon.
Around the time I took to finalizing my things, Mother Dearest decided to pack a few things as well. Sister Dearest wants a long list of 'few things' to be sent. And the safe places they have been kept in are known only to the Home Ministry. Mother - needless to say - never lets that ministry out of sight nor let it go out of her control. And so she took the list under her care. She re-did the list a few days ago, got it cross-checked with Sister Dearest via Skype, and added a 'few extra things' the day she finalized it all. So the day she was to pack, I thought she'd finish ahead of me.
Well, it turned out to be just the opposite.
There I was at 10:30 am with my bundle of clothes and books waiting to be allocated a bag and there she was with every thing on her list all about the place.
"Mother," I said, "Isn't it high time you just throw everything into the bag?"
"Oh yes yes, I am searching her (Sister Dearest's) cupboard. And it's such a mess."
"So I am sure you're cleaning it up now."
"I cannot leave a mess that way."
"Mother, I am sure that's not on the list."
"Look," she said, determined to silence my innocent logic, "If you like to keep things just the way they are doesn't mean I am about to follow you. And anyway I am not coming in your way."
"But you are, Mother!" I said, exasperated, "We have been trying to finish packing since 9 in the morning."
"So?"
"So instead of just dumping things in the bag, here you are cleaning up a mess that isn't to be packed either."
"Dump things?! I don't dump things!"
"Well why don't you just learn to dump things then? It's so much simpler and faster you know."
"Yes yes, I know. One look at your cupboard is enough to convince me how useful that trait is!"
"Now Mother what you are doing is known as changing the topic."
"I'm not."
"Yes you are. What has my cupboard got to do with dumping?"
"I don't like to dump."
"But why? It's so much faster than keeping things one by one. If I were you, I would have finished all of this by now. Yet here you are still packing!"
"Don't you dare to teach me, okay?" reminded Mother Dearest, "I'll do just as I please just as you do whatever you want to."
And so, in the face of such a water-tight deal, I had to acquaint myself with the art of shutting up and rummaging through my drawer for the charger I had forgotten about.
----
An hour later, Mother had - frankly - done quite a commendable job: I was to carry two bags and she had segregated their contents just the way a woman does - with precision and order. As she went about fine-tuning what I thought was done already and what she thought needed to be wrapped up well, she decided to serve me dosages of the horrors of flying.
"You know Amitabh Bachchan?" she asked.
"No I don't."
"Well," she continued least bothered about my answer, "He flew to London the other day."
"And?"
"And the airline lost his baggage."
"Really?"
"Yes! He was stranded there for two hours! So much trouble no?"
"Yes; and given the fact that I am to fly for the first time, you have no idea how thrilled I am to hear that!"
"Oh don't be ridiculous."
"But of course Mother; here I am flying for the first time and there you are telling me tales from the flying crypt! Next you'll tell me not to poke my head out of the window just in case Dracula drops by for lunch!"
"For your kind information, I know the windows have glass panes that don't open. And it was just his baggage that got lost."
"Dracula's?"
"Bachchan's! Why will I talk of Dracula?! You're hopeless!"
"Well Mother you realize that's exactly what you're making me think about flying?"
"Well," she said laughing, "I was just telling you. It's not going to happen to you."
"Then why tell me?"
"Well, I'm just telling you so that you be careful."
"With my baggage in the cargo Mother, there's no way I can do anything about it unless-"
"Unless what?"
"Unless I ask to be dumped with my cargo."
"You ARE being ridiculous you know."
"Well, that way I guarantee that I and my baggage travel together and onto the baggage-claim counter!"
"You've finished packing, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"So let me pack in peace then. Go do something else!"
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