Dilated pupils mean
different things to different people.
Shock and boredom to
some, wonder and excitement to others, and in extreme cases, it could just be a
genetic defect.
However, when the
pupils in question belong to your Mum’s eyes, it could only mean one thing:
“DON’T EVEN THINK
ABOUT IT!”
In a room filled with
NRI relatives- my respect for who depends on the size of the bag and brands of
imported chocolates and multi-coloured wafer biscuits in it- gravity as a force
is challenged by the magnetic power of eye contact.
The moment your fingers
attempt to unwrap the packet of biscuits in full public view in response to
your salivating mouth, a telepathic signal is sent to the brain.
And your washed up eyes
meet Mum’s amplified pupils.
“DON’T EVEN THINK
ABOUT IT!”
Packet down. Chin
down. Tears roll down.
Eavesdropping is a
stepping stone to maternal policing.
Boxed thoughts, grounded feet and a zipped
mouth are the only ways to tackle these dire stare threats in populous
situations.
“Babu’s daughter-in-law
is a very modern girl. She has convinced Govind to move out of the house to
live separately,” Pushpa aunty updates the ladies at the kitty party, while we
children tuck in a few vegetable spring rolls and hara bhara kebabs along with tidbits from the Babu household.
Ideally, by virtue of
being a juvenile plus-one at a ladies’ kitty party, one is expected to behave
oneself and occasionally smile when he/she is reassured of his/ her cuteness by
dolled up aunties.
Alas, eavesdropping is an evil dragon.
“Aunty, but Govind is
having a love affair with his office secretary..,” I proclaim, repeating Usha
aunty’s conversation with Mum at the grocery shop last week.
Taking my cue from nature's magnetism, I look at Mum before I utter another word.
“DON’T EVEN THINK
ABOUT IT!”
