Labour of love.

              I happened to come across an article on housewives in today’s newspaper.  It said that, ” a recent High Court judgement has fixed the price of a homemaker’s life at Rs 5,000  a month.”   I read it aloud to ensure it fell on  hubby’s ears. It did fall, unlike other trivial issues, that generally fall on deaf ears. However, the outcome was not very impressive. Hubby, who was in my domain, toasting bread slices for his rumbling tummy, quickly appeared with a plate of two tanned slices, topped with melting cheese, prepared specially  for me. 
           I was pretty stunned! But, before I could form the question, he answered, “This one is for you, my dear, so that you don’t ask me to deposit 5,000 bucks into your bank account from the next month.” Yes, hubby has been accorded with the gift of the gab, which makes sure my witty retorts stay with me, till death do us part.  Now, there are many out there, who will find this gesture extremely loving, and oh, so romantic! But, I did not. No. A pair of bread slices, smeared with cheese, is not going to impress me.
         But, what really set me thinking was, that can someone  fix a price on all that a housewife does for her family? All the love and care we shower on our families, whether we are home makers or professionals, is to ensure their happiness and well being. We put our families on the top of our priority lists, making adjustments for them during any emergencies, in fact, making adjustments for them, all the time.
         Here, I talk about home makers. Working women are in a class apart. They are the admirable heroes, balancing home and work with such ease and efficiency, even our Maker would bow before them with respect! But, we – the home makers – are the ones who get the raw deal. We leave our jobs, disuse our education, ignore ourselves, in order to look after our families. We are the ‘cooks, cleaners, maids, alarm clocks, janitors, doctors, councillors, teachers, what-nots’ of our families, but, ultimately we are the ones whose labour goes unnoticed, unpaid and uncared for. Do you think that a piddling amount of Rs. 5,000 is the value of everything we do for our families? The  question was asked in the article, too!
        During discussions, the professionals get tagged as the ‘working’ women. Hello! What do we do the entire day? Hatch eggs? Who takes care of your parents, while you are out gallivanting  round town? Who cares for the kids, runs errands, finishes household chores and the added tasks you dump on our heads before leaving for that ‘very important meeting with the clients’ (read, party with the boys)?  Call it a rant, if you will. But, all of the above has a reason.
         The other day,  I  dropped a hint of being unavailable on the weekend, as I wished to go, visit mum, and spend a few hours relaxing with her. Quick came the news from hubby that his sis would be visiting during the said time.  I happened to reply, in jest, that she took breaks a lot more frequently than I did. She, who happens to be a very dear friend, would surely never mind the remark. But, hubby did. His retort to my jest-y remark was, “She needs the breaks. SHE WORKS!”
       And, all hell broke loose.

        

12 Replies to “Labour of love.”

  1. 🙂 No, Swathi. I was home, That is how I could write this post!
    But, seriously, the relationship I share with my dear sis in law helps me to take things lightly, and leave my house on her responsibility so that I can go, paint the town red! 🙂

    Like

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