Mrs. Gupta's Samosas

I have been long toying with the idea of sharing my thoughts on Mrs. Gupta and her famous samosas. Mrs. Gupta is not an extraordinary woman...rather, she is the quintessential Bhartiya Nari as perhaps depicted by the many Ekta Kapoors of the country...the woman whose house is always clean, the kitchen always fragrant, kids and husband all happy and well fed. She is the woman who gets up early in the morning and does not sleep till everyone else is asleep, who ensures that the clothes are ironed, the bills are paid, the rations are full and life, as we know it, runs smoothly. She is the one who pampers you with those perfect hot samosas and the mint chutney, whose dosas are all crisp and brown, who can make the perfect pulao and serve it with the flair of a queen. She is the perfect hostess and the best neighbor...and yet, she is a woman I don't like.
Perhaps it is because she is all perfect...or perhaps, just perhaps that she does not exist. For how can a woman manage so many things at the same time and yet simply forget about her own self? I have long lived in denial of such women...women who tend to be perfect home-makers for I long believed them to be ignorant fools, who in their urge to please the people they love forget that they are humans too and that there is more to life than making samosas or jalebis for that matter. I believed all that...till I met Mrs. Gupta.
Mrs. Gupta is about forty or perhaps forty five ( can't really guess their age for they always have a grown up child and a husband who looks much older...), of average height and a pale wheatish complexion. The eyes are big but bigger still is her bosom and the well rounded buttocks. She has a perpetual smile on her face and you can well make out the laugh lines, wondering if she has been smiling her whole life? She is all of the above and more...but what I remember most about her are her exquisite samosas. I still remember the day I first saw her and could not believe my eyes. It seemed so like an old movie...for who carries treats to their next door neighbors now? Busy with the work...my life never even afforded me the time to interact with my neighbors, let along make treats for them but them I considered myself the Modern Indian Woman...a woman who was touted to be independent, informed and well...ill mannered! That is an honest opinion about myself and teh many like me, who forget that it is necessary to be polite to people you care about and also to people you don't. For that is what Mrs. Guptas of the world do with elan...be polite!
Anyhow, back to the day or rather the evening I first met her. It had been hardly a week since I had shifted to our new home and it was also the very first Sunday I had had in my new home. As expected, the house was a royal mess. Boxes all over the floor, some open, some still sealed. It had been a  long and busy day and after sending Aryan off to the playground below, I was just settling to make a cup of tea for myself. My darling husband had finally decided that he had done his share and would not budge without a cup of tea. Grudgingly, for every muscle in my body ached, I had made two cups of tea a nd has shuffled space enough for only the two of us on the couch. My thoughts had only just wondered towards some sort of a snack when the doorbell rang and she materialized in front of me, a plate of awesome looking samosas and a smile that ran from ear to ear.
My first thought was..."What the hell!" but I smiled and waited for her to say.
"Myself Malini Gupta, your next door neighbor."
I was incredulous...it felt weird and surreal at the same time. Almost as if the woman heard my empty stomach growl and came rushing to my rescue. Such was my disbelief that I stood there, uncertain as to what should I say. To a person who speaks for a living, this was indeed a moment of acute embarrassment.
"Hi, Parag." he came, as always, to my rescue and pushed me aside a bit.
"Please come in," he added with a flourish and that was invitation enough. Malini Gupta strutted inside my mangled abode and I looked at Parag, the ever so social and well mannered Parag! Shrugging in-distinctively, I closed the door and followed the lady as she stood looking at the enormous boxes, looking for a place for herself as well as her samosas. She finally found some and parked herself on the seat vacated by me. Parag went and sat on the place opposite, leaving me standing there to find something for myself.
By that time I had recovered from the initial shock and introduced myself, and by that I mean I he  shared my name. She smiled and looked around, not disapproving, just assessing.
"Still unpacking. I understand. First Sunday no," she nodded understandingly and went on.
"I had made these samosas and thought I would share them with you. Aryan loves them!" she o my gushed and I frowned. I recalled Pinki telling me that Aryan had had met the neighbors but I could not recall her telling me that he had been fed as well.
"That's so nice of you." Parag smiled and I forced one too.
She just sat there, talking about what we did, what her husband did and what her son did. It took us all of 5 minutes to know about her life...her two sons, one working, the other still studying. And within that time she had asked us about everything...where we were originally from, what Parag and I did for a living...all in 5 minutes. After that, she stayed on and I dreaded for the moment when Parag would do the inevitable, which he did next.
"Please have some tea..."
Another cup! I felt the thought curse through my brain but she read my mind again and politely yet firmly shook her head.
"No thanks. I just had a cup. Mr. Gupta had gone down for his walk so I though I would say hello. Isn't Aryan home?"
"No, he just went to the swings with Pinki." I finally chipped in, relieved and happy to have been spared the ordeal.
"Oh. He is very cute. lovely baby."
I smiled again and stood up as Mrs. Gupta finally stood to leave. She stopped once at the door and smiled at me.
"I hope you like the samosas." she said and I thanked her again for her kindness and thoughtfulness and saw her move towards her door, waiting for her to enter her house and close the door before I could shut it and forget that that had really happened.
That was my very first interaction with Mrs. Gupta and today, as I sit across her smiling self, her famous samosa in my hand and feel the soft crunch followed by the exquisitely flavored fillings, I can only wonder...how this world can not do without the Mrs. Guptas and their famous samosas...

To be continued...

Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction and though inspired by living persons...is not related to any person living or dead. It is a pure work of fiction. 

The Slumber Ends...

Waking up from a deep slumber can sometimes be rather unpleasant. To begin with, you don't want to. I mean why to leave the comfort of the bed, the soft warmth of your baby besides you, the silence and peace of nothingness...Then of course it is the thought of the day to day that irritates and annoys and gnaws on the last bits of sleep. With an unsettled mind, you let go for you must. And today, I do the same.

I had all but given up writing. It was perhaps my lack of time (though strictly not true!) that kept me away from doing the one thing that I love to do most...write. But then I stumbled on a line in a Paulo Coehlo's book....the Zaahir. I have not finished reading it, but I read 10 pages and felt this deep urge to get up and write...write for there was never ever anything else that I wanted to do in my life. Even when I aspired to be a doctor, I did under the assumption that once I was a doctor, I would have enough money and time to sit and write. Then I wanted to be a designer, a Manager and then a wife and a mother. At every turn in my life, I gave myself reasons why I could not write and waited for that perfect time to appear. As predictable...that moment never really came. Until I read the words...

"The truth is that I have money, I have contacts, but what I don’t have is the courage to write a book."
The words... stared at me from the pages of a book that has been lying on a shelf, unattended. Wasn't it true for me as well? Was I not just hiding behind the many many reasons to simply avoid accepting that the only thing I did not have was courage.

I don't claim that I have some all of a sudden...but what I do have is renewed vigor, motivation and perhaps a strong desire, to wake up. My slumber has long kept me under the sheets but the joys of life, of getting up and getting out are forcing me to leave the nasty comforts of my bed and dare...I still don't have my story...but I have my words back and my brain cells twirling with ideas...I can see many colors around and though the bed is all cosy...I must get up...for when we don't try, dreams turn into regrets.