Babies’ Day Out – Part 1

‘Mom’, I announced marching into the kitchen. ‘I’ve decided that I am going to quit my job.’

‘Yeah, sure’, she replied without turning.

‘I am serious. This might be my tenth declaration, but I am dead serious this time. I’ve even drafted a mail to my manager’, I replied, making sure the seriousness reflected in my voice.

Immediately, the ladle she was holding fell into the kadaai. She turned. ‘Yen naa! Inga Vango!’ I closed my ears at the ear splitting scream as she called my dad.

‘What happened? What did you do now?’ he asked looking at me. This is so unfair! Why should I be the reason every time something is wrong? I agree the probability is a little high, but it won’t hurt him to have some faith.

My mom spoke immediately. She never misses grabbing the opportunity to tell her version of things, however hard I try to beat her to it. ‘It seems she is going to quit her job. She has even mailed her manager!’ she said, panic evident in her voice.

‘What? No!’ I looked at my dad. ‘I’ve just drafted a mail. I haven’t sent it yet.’

‘Let me get this first. You want to quit? Why?’ he asked.

‘Because, like I have so clearly put in the last many months, I don’t like it. I am not content. I hence don’t feel I am doing justice both to me and the job. I’ve held on as long as I could. I think I’ve had enough’, I finished.

‘You could move to another company’, he suggested.

I looked at him exasperated. ‘Dad it’s not about the company. It’s the whole thing! This is how it’s going to be wherever I go’, I said.

‘Kadavule! It is so difficult to get a job these days. So many people are suffering. And she wants to give up the one good job she has. Please get some sense into her’, my mom went on.

‘So what are you planning to do?’ my dad asked.

Ok, here goes. If this was bad, be prepared for the worse, I told myself. ‘I am planning to start a day care centre’, I said, the confidence in my voice completely belying the tension inside me.

‘A what?!’ asked both of them in chorus, as if I had just told them that I was going to join a terrorist group, or worse, marry a Muslim boy. How is that worse, only they would understand.

‘A day…’

‘Yeah we heard you. How do you think that is even going to work out?’ my dad asked. Meanwhile, my mom was in the Puja room, praying fervently.

‘Fund to set up the centre is not a problem. I have saved quite a bit and I can even take a loan. I’ve been reading stuff from the net and I now have a fair idea of how to go about it. I have asked some of my friends for help too. Not for funding, to set it up and stuff’, I clarified immediately, reading his mind. My mom was next to me, applying viboothi on my forehead. ‘Mom, stop! I am perfectly sane. No ghost is haunting me, nor am I scared out of my wits and nor have I gone mad’, I said, trying to control the rising frustration.

This is how it started. I realized that putting your foot down is really not that easy. After days of argument and hours of lecture about handling job difficulties (which, according to them, was the real reason for me quitting. My parents thought I was chickening out), understanding the importance of holding onto a job in today’s difficult world and my shortcomings in many things, my dad came to my room one evening.

‘Where are you planning to set up your day care centre?’ he asked.

The question took me by surprise. This is more than enough, I thought, smiling to myself. I immediately explained the whole plan. I even showed him the notes I had taken during my research. He didn’t say it out loud, but I could make out that he was pretty impressed. My mom, always alert, suspected that something was up and came into my room. When she saw what was happening, she immediately flipped.

‘Enna panrel! Are you actually going to let her go ahead with it?’ she asked, both angry and panicked.

‘No’, my dad said. I was feeling a huge mixture of emotions from confusion to anger. ‘I am going to make a deal’, he continued. ‘Alright, Anju. I am tired of the arguments. I have a deal to make. If you agree, you can go ahead with this.’

I was a little curious. ‘Ok. Go ahead’, I said cautiously.

‘You can start your day care centre. But, I am going to give you six months. If it doesn’t turn out too well, you find a proper job like your present one and marry the guy we choose’, he finished without even an iota of hesitation.

I looked at him, blinking several times, not believing what I had just heard. ‘This is too much. You very well know six months is very little time. Plus, I have told you I like someone who I want to marry. You have been trying to get me out of it. So now you think you can kill two birds with one stone? No, dad’, I said, my anger rising. I felt completely betrayed.

He didn’t even flinch. ‘It’s a deal. Take it or leave it’, he said, turning to leave. My mom looked satisfied, almost smiling.

Oh, no. I am not giving up that easy.

‘Ok’, I said. ‘It’s a deal. It works both ways’. They turned in rapt attention. ‘If I succeed in my venture in six months, you agree to what I say.’

‘And that would be?’ he asked.

There you go. ‘I get to keep the centre, of course. And, you let me marry the guy of my choice.’ There, the bomb is dropped.

My mom looked at me as if what I just told was sacrilegious. My dad, on the other hand, was deep in thought.

It took a while before he said it. ‘Deal!’ he said.

He left my room, my mom right on his heels shooting a thousand questions. I could hear him saying things like she won’t make it, don’t worry… and I immediately squashed the pang of disappointment at their lack of confidence in me, deciding not to dwell on it.

An opportunity is all I wanted. I will show them, I vowed to myself.

‘Somebody stop me’, I said in typical Mask style and dialed my best friend, Renu, to tell her the news.

Continued...