<p>Order from the LOH (lady of the house) was clear within a month of marriage in 1968: 'Get a Sumeet mixer or else... ’. Like the expected question in Economics examination on 'Baby-or-a car first for the modern couple', I reasoned that she had prioritised between a vital refrigerator for Rs 1,500 and an essential mixie for Rs 450.<br />My impromptu suggestion that as we were only two, she can manage standing near the kitchen table with the small mortar-pestle set I had thoughtfully purchased, was met with a cold stare. I had also tried to explain, it appeared later, foolishly, due to the ensuing domestic disharmony for a week, the way my mother and her sisters-in-law in turn would sit cross-legged in front of a huge stone-mortar and grind for idli-dosa for a joint family of a few dozen, while she could do it just for two, standing, in comfort.<br /><br />I pointed out that my pay was just Rs 810 per month as a Captain. A compromise was reached and mixie got relegated, with the proviso that it would be me who would do the grinding on Saturdays, after returning from work. From teaching officer-students about the real bomb-firing-mortar, I was reduced to being the grinder on a stone-mortar-grinder on weekends.<br /><br />A few other items got included in the list over the next few years and since I was available on call, the mixie was temporarily forgotten. Not for long. When I had to move for the 1971 operations, the LOH had to stay back as a 'separated family' with a child. So mixie came back to her mind, as I wouldn't be there to grind. She had added information that I could save money, as I would become entitled to ‘free rations’.<br /><br />No choice but to part with Rs 550, the new price and a Sumeet (meaning good friend) came home in my absence. Later, I left the little stone-grinder with a friend assuring him that I would pick it up soon.<br /><br />Life went on and the ‘good friend’ stayed. After 5 years, while at Nasirabad (Rajasthan), all electric appliances at home went for a six due to a power surge once and I had to redeem my promise of taking back the stone-mortar from the friend. He sent it by railway-parcel and I went to collect it. When the parcel clerk walked with me to hand over, there was a huge crowd in front of it, offering aarti, flowers and prostrations. <br /><br />I went closer and noticed that the hessian cover of the pestle had got slightly torn, exposing it partially to resemble a Shivling; the whole parcel looked as if it was going for consecration to a (military) temple, with my rank and name in bold. <br /><br />To avoid answering many questions, I too reverently did a pranaam, picked it up and scooted.</p>
<p>Order from the LOH (lady of the house) was clear within a month of marriage in 1968: 'Get a Sumeet mixer or else... ’. Like the expected question in Economics examination on 'Baby-or-a car first for the modern couple', I reasoned that she had prioritised between a vital refrigerator for Rs 1,500 and an essential mixie for Rs 450.<br />My impromptu suggestion that as we were only two, she can manage standing near the kitchen table with the small mortar-pestle set I had thoughtfully purchased, was met with a cold stare. I had also tried to explain, it appeared later, foolishly, due to the ensuing domestic disharmony for a week, the way my mother and her sisters-in-law in turn would sit cross-legged in front of a huge stone-mortar and grind for idli-dosa for a joint family of a few dozen, while she could do it just for two, standing, in comfort.<br /><br />I pointed out that my pay was just Rs 810 per month as a Captain. A compromise was reached and mixie got relegated, with the proviso that it would be me who would do the grinding on Saturdays, after returning from work. From teaching officer-students about the real bomb-firing-mortar, I was reduced to being the grinder on a stone-mortar-grinder on weekends.<br /><br />A few other items got included in the list over the next few years and since I was available on call, the mixie was temporarily forgotten. Not for long. When I had to move for the 1971 operations, the LOH had to stay back as a 'separated family' with a child. So mixie came back to her mind, as I wouldn't be there to grind. She had added information that I could save money, as I would become entitled to ‘free rations’.<br /><br />No choice but to part with Rs 550, the new price and a Sumeet (meaning good friend) came home in my absence. Later, I left the little stone-grinder with a friend assuring him that I would pick it up soon.<br /><br />Life went on and the ‘good friend’ stayed. After 5 years, while at Nasirabad (Rajasthan), all electric appliances at home went for a six due to a power surge once and I had to redeem my promise of taking back the stone-mortar from the friend. He sent it by railway-parcel and I went to collect it. When the parcel clerk walked with me to hand over, there was a huge crowd in front of it, offering aarti, flowers and prostrations. <br /><br />I went closer and noticed that the hessian cover of the pestle had got slightly torn, exposing it partially to resemble a Shivling; the whole parcel looked as if it was going for consecration to a (military) temple, with my rank and name in bold. <br /><br />To avoid answering many questions, I too reverently did a pranaam, picked it up and scooted.</p>
