Karma Tonic: Chapter 3: Kitchen

“Something inside me had dropped away, and nothing came in to fill the empty cavern. There was an abnormal lightness to my body, and sounds had a hollow echo to them.” 
— Haruki Murakami

A girl, a daughter, grows in her parent’s house, with a crown of princess and a sound of free will. She’s monitored till she’s safe, she’s loved till she faints and she’s pampered till she sleeps. Why this treatment for a daughter? Maybe, because they know that eventually she won’t get any of this, once she marries up to another house. Or maybe, because she can’t stay with them forever, so they live a jillion and quick life with her. They eat like starving souls, what she cooks, they dive on the floor that she swept, they ogle at her drawings, and they sleep likes babies on the sheets she weaved. Why? Are they insane? Or we are dealing here with cogent love?

She goes to another house, could be anyone: In-laws, Siblings, External Relatives, life starts acting unnatural. From pamper to meal, sleep and most importantly, love, everything becomes synthetic, rolled and covered to magnitude of society’s claws.

What’s the basic claw?

You are a girl, a grilling human, who is supposed to live as per the demands and moods of people around her. So what, if you are earning your own cents and cooking your own meal, cook for everyone else! “It should taste exactly like I have been eating, not a pinch of salt hither-thither, not a lump of cheese bothered, exactly the way I desire.” These kinds of tantrums are not just thrown by the in-laws or husbands, sometimes; it could be one of your own pseudo blood relations. Look at an instance, where an only son of a mother gets married and suddenly finds everything cooked by his mommy tasteless. His cribs turn into screams in the house, his gratefulness becomes his awfulness. He doesn’t show up on breakfast and dinner table, when his wife is not around, he works extra hours to avoid mommy talks, and eats thanklessly, to her evergreen love.

It’s never the same for every woman. I am not saying that men are mean, it’s the society. The same girl who grows to parents’ pamper, when exposed to another girl, doesn’t deliver the same. Why not? What is so dead in them? I believe, I took a hectic moment to decide the title of this post, whom to blame, whom to change?

A human life takes diversions: from birth to death they need a litmus test to measure their insanity. They need to keep chewing that ever-lasting gum, wondering when the bubble erupts.