I have never thought about it but the thought sometimes crosses my mind as one observes the stench of money on the rise. There are three types of people in the money business really; one that have forever been amidst its presence, others who have barely reached there and yet others who even though are at its brink seemed to have got used to its existance. its uncanny how one can also manage to pick on their existence from behind one's ears.
The ones on the brink of money first purchase "stuff" for others to see; a confirmation of sorts for the rest of the world. This usually starts with purchasing the biggest wagon around. I call it a wagon because there is no real mirth in its features; it's just there for all to "see" (read as gape). Next in the line of purchases is umpteen number of things to glorify the already (busting-at-its-seams) decorated (read as cluttered) house. Lastly comes the gold along with clothes unceremoniously coloured in the weirdest of combinations. For the ones who've already reached there, the whiff and aroma seems to take precendence.
So while presenting themselves you'd wonder which miniscular village in Paris hamms out the kind of perfume that is worn by these people. The clothes are bright, gadgets bought in celebration of anything. One would find a lot of brands suddenly making their appearance when such people arrive, as if they were waiting for guniea pigs like these! :)
The last and most sophisticated are the ones that have had money literally grow on them. The colors are far more subtle, conversations pleasant, and you can just seem to know by the soft and balanced use of words that this spews money! The reason all these observations have been made is simple; analyzing my own people through the three categories.
Suprisingly and really surprisingly I never thought my mother to be caught in the web! We were on to our regular Doctor's appointments; one that she had to carve time for me even though I am pregnant for the first time and even though she's been playing hard-to-get in these 8 odd months. Anyways we made a trip to the doctor's that was swelling literally with preggie women all around and husbands who were trying to look important. You could almost spot a sudden "Do want to have some water" conversations coming from them to their expectant other halves. It almost made me smile. On second thoughts whe I looked at the wives, they seemed to be enjoy serving their time as it were before getting released from the clutches of the typical Indian family chores.
Mom on the other hand tucked into her forlorn hand bag hunting for something. She had made sure she carried a huge one that had an uncanny look about a branded Prada bag, but one only I knew had been bargained vociferously by the lady who'd given me my existence! I wondered what she was looking for. After about a minute or two out came her sinister looking hand held fan. With one sweep, she pushed her numbered dark glasses on her head, trying hard to perch it at its highest altitude and she managed to do this all at one go...
Phew! I was half hoping it to fall but I guess I wasn't destined to predict that! :) People around her kept looking at what the lady was trying to do in an air conditioned environment. I kept looking at her as she again fished out an aloe vera wet tissue trying hard to rub her forhead in a somewhat gently crossed manner, making an impression on the heat. "It's so hot here Pinks!", said she. I gave her a forced glance and after her charade gave her a realistic logic. "its the age Ma, you tend to get a lot more dehydrated than before!"
While a husband accompanying his wife smirked, Ma knew better to stop her parley! By the time we went in to speak with my Gynaec, she had already introduced herself as my mother; one who didn't look like one , or so she made sure to inform the doctor and asked her a zillion questions about the impending delivery. I thought of interrupting but she wouldn't let me, after all Scorpions are best left at their half baked knowledge when needed.
After the confused doctor tried to smile through the expression, I thought it best to let her know with a gentle tap on her hand saying, "now you see why I don't get my mom to see ya!" The doc seemed to heave a huge sigh of relief and finally managed a genuine smile. Ma on the other hand was too flummoxed to understand that the cake had been taken away. All her histrionics so far was washed off in one single sweep! Man did that feel good.... I just had to share this piece as it was too good not to be written home about!
