The year is 1978.Guwahati, Assam, India.
A young woman of 28 is trudging up the steps to her house ( i had counted the number, but I forget now how many were there). On both her hands are two large plastic bags full of groceries. An assorted variety of things needed for her household, including the vegetables and fruits. And at the top, the brown paper bag from the baker with the stains of the vanaspati showing through. Biscuits for her kids.In the middle of her hundreds of chores, after feeding and sending off the kids and her husband to school and office, then getting ready and going to her own school where she taught, then doing the groceries – she had not forgotten to pick up the biscuits her daughter liked.
The year is 2010. Hyderabad, AP, India.
A youngish woman of 34 trudges up the three floors to her apartment, two bags of groceries straining against her hands. On her way back from the school where she had volunteered to teach English, she had stopped at the grocery store to pick up the household stuff. She’d also packed off her kid to school and dropped her off in the morning. In her grocery bag are the essentials for the house, and one packet of lemon juice for her daughter. She too has not forgotten, in the midst of all her other chores.
They say that you become like your mother. Sooner or later. It is true.