June 6, 2006

It was an early Sunday morning. When Shilpa opened her eyes, the very first thing which struck to her mind was the plan for breakfast and lunch. The immediate task would be to keep the meat out from the freezer and than to remove the pressure cooker from the top shelf. The need of pressure cooker was very specific. Otherwise it was confined to a corner.

As Sunday was being weekly off for her husband Nitin, their two kids Rahul and Nikita, they would enjoy the day with relaxing speed.  It was not the case for Shilpa. Her load of work would double up whenever her husband and children were at home. She would toil and they chill out. The house hold chores were never ending. She too wanted a break which would never come.

‘Isn’t it justified to take a day off and seek out recreation after laboring from Monday to Saturday?’  She too wanted to have a long sleep and laze on the bed. At least for one day in a week she wished to get up late and enjoy a hot cup of coffee with the morning newspaper. That could be a perfect Sunday if there was no need to think about the breakfast and lunch. She could go for a long walk and come back to savor the breakfast. How about spending time with a crispy novel and splurge in the garden till lunch? Perhaps she could venture into a siesta or amble for a movie to the near by multiplex.  Organizing a kitty party could be the grand finale for her perfect Sunday.

All she fancied was a brief drift out from the monotonous work schedule.

Shilpa was quite involved with her own activities before she got married. She was an athlete, a short distance runner, university level champion, had won medals in galore. Her participation was not restricted to sports alone. She was also active in elocution, essay writing, singing and acting. She was labeled as star performer in her college, which had shown the promise and potential to carry forward at higher level. But her socializing attitude and lively outlook had marked her off as ‘flirt’ in the college circles.

‘God save the boy who marries Shilpa’, elders commented with no hesitation. Such malevolent talk had not bothered her.  She had her share of romantic indulgence. During the first year of degree she moved with Michael and then developed closeness with Farook. They had spent time in coffee shops and movie theaters. She had not denied.

Both the affairs fizzled out without a definite growth. Perhaps both Michael and Farook did not find the quality which could make Shilpa as life companion or their objective was to glide into a fleeting moment or possibly Shilpa did not find them interesting, nobody was sure of the fact.  Without any vexation she moved on with life.

Soon after her graduation she did a crash course in computer and managed a break into a clerical post in an insurance company. Within a year her parents arranged her marriage with Nitin.  Both the kids were born in quick succession.  Then a turn came in life when Nitin insisted her to quit the job and concentrate on Rahul and Nikita. Nitin had good position in a multi national company and was well paid.

She did not have much choice. The resignation was submitted but felt as if the wings were being cut off. What made her to agree to leave the job and what she experienced during the course was beyond eloquence. She herself was not aware how the vivacious and bubbly Shilpa had got renovated into a statue of endurance and serenity.

The decisive cross over had taken place.

If a question was asked on why and how the cross over occurred, even Shilpa would find difficult to get the answer. It had happened on its own without any resistance.

When she turned the side suddenly realized that it was six o’clock.  Nitin was expected to get up by next half an hour. He would not go the bathroom without the bed tea. She was not among the blessed ones to make a delayed start. Sluggishly she marched towards the bathroom.

The next fifteen minutes were slothfully spent in the wash room. Shilpa came towards Rahul and Nikita. She unsettled them from their slumber. Rahul had to go for cricket coaching and Nitkita for tuitions in Mathematics. Unless they were pushed hard they would never wake up.

“What Mom, you don’t let us sleep even on Sunday mornings.” Rahul griped.

Shilpa entered the kitchen and kept the meat out from the freezer. She prepared the batter for the pan cake. She boiled the milk and water. She picked up the mug of tea and moved her strides in direction of the bed room. Nitin was already waiting for the tea.

While handing over the mug abruptly she remembered the pressure cooker.

“I have a tennis match to play with my office mates. I hope the dress and the kit are ready.”  Nitin reminded her.

“Tennis? Oh no. Good that you reminded me.” Shilpa rushed out.

“What’s special for breakfast Mom?” Nikita wanted to know.

“Pan Cakes.” Shilpa screamed.

The time was running out. She got engaged in making pan cakes. She carried the tray full of pan cakes and the honey bottle to the dining table. Her husband and children joined within five minutes.  She served coffee and tea. She did not have the time to sit and eat with them.

She ironed the clothes. Nitin’s tennis kit was to be kept ready.

“What is this Mom?” Nikita carped. “Check this dress. Do you want me to go out with the crinkled clothes?”

Shilpa did not reply. There was no point. Grouses would never end.

“What is the plan for lunch?” Nitin inquired while going out. 

“I have kept the meat out. The rice with curry and salad should be good enough, isn’t it?”  She waited him to respond.

“I forgot to mention. “ He was least remorseful. “You know Mr.Kartik, who looks after the exports in our office.  His wife has gone to her parent’s house with the kids for couple of days.  I have asked him to join for lunch. We need to have some very good food. Please ensure the salad to be a good mix of tomato, cucumber, beetroot and onion. How about frying the prawns and also adding a dish of cauliflower?  What about soft kulchas? It would be wonderful. I have bought a bottle of foreign whisky. Let us have a fantastic Sunday.”

The day could be great to someone and absurd to the other. Very little time was left to prepare the Kulchas. The flour was to be sieved and then add baking powder, salt, ghee, curd, yeast and water to make the soft dough and leave the dough for minimum two hours.

Shilpa whined within.  Then she became conscious to the fact that the pressure cooker was still lying at the top shelf, which was to be removed.

She was famished, hence decided to remove the pressure cooker after having the breakfast.  She came back to the dining table. Shilpa collected the used plates, glasses and tray and plunked it in the sink. She tried to have her breakfast standing in the kitchen. There was no sense of delight in eating alone. The coffee had become cold.

What about the pressure cooker? She recalled. The stress factor was bothering her. The weariness had jerked her mind and body.  At this time Rahul appeared in his white cricket dress.

“Mom I need some help.” Rahul requested. “My school shoes are dirty. If you have time could you clean, polish and keep them ready. Tomorrow, I may have to leave early for school.”

“I will try, if I get time.” She assured.

By next fifteen minutes everybody had left the house. She was alone.  Before getting busy in the kitchen, she went for a round of vigilance to each room. She saw the bottle of booze which was kept on the edge of table, she pushed it back. She was irritated with thought of Kartik being their guest for lunch. Nitin had decided to have a pleasurable Sunday. She did not know why her husband was friendly with Kartik. Somehow she always disliked Kartik’s attitude. He would always come, drink, eat and go. But he had not taken the initiative of calling them for lunch or dinner. Both Kartik and his wife were wise to be parsimonious.

She arranged the rooms in proper order. She positioned the books and clothes in appropriate places. Shilpa gathered the dirty attires and dropped it in the washing machine.

What about the pressure cooker? She memorized.

While looking at Rahul and Nikita she always had recalled her childhood. Those were the days when there was no sense of responsibility. A visit to the kitchen was not the part of the day’s schedule. Forget the exercise of cooking she even failed to remember a day when she had made a proper coffee.

Life had just propelled off with friends, School, college, sports, cinema, stage and the extra curricular activities. Those were the days. Even after securing the job in the insurance company she had not withdrawn from the knack of getting a kick out of life. Now she believed that getting married and then giving up the job had disbanded her individuality. She certainly regretted for losing herself.

Given a choice Shilpa would have continued with the job. But Nitin did not back her up. But then partly he was right. She had suffered due to shortage of time. Kids were small and growing. They were to be taken care in connection with their health, guidance, school home-work and performance. Nitin was doing great with his job, but once at home, totally dependent on Shilpa. She felt the added heaviness of cooking, cleaning the house, laundry, supporting her husband and attending his regular guests.  The children had grown, but their reliance on their mother had increased.

Did she forget the pressure cooker?

Shilpa sieved the flour and added the required mix to formulate the soft dough. She scraped the coconut, chopped the vegetables and meat. Once the meat was washed she needed the cooker. She looked up at the shelf. The stool was pulled and she climbed over. While trying to pull the pressure cooker she lost control and it tumbled down to the floor.

She picked and washed the cooker. It was commonly known that the pressure cooker being a steel object would not split a part. But somewhere she had read that a heavy fall could create microscopic cracks, hence even the steel objects were vulnerable.

What if the detonation occurs?

The fear ignited even to think such possibility of explosion! She erased the fear with a smile on her face. Shlipa kept the meat in the cooker and added the water. Now the cooker was moved on to the fire.  Soon after the first burst of heat, she placed the pressure plug.  Gradually, it began blowing out the excess steam. The temperature was moving violently inside to let out the steam. Shlipa could relate the tussle which was raging within the object.

The congregated heat was finding ways to escape. The hissing noise sounded different today. She was apprehensive of the vent being clogged by the block. The sizzle was not the same. There was clear variation. When the pressure cooker was accidentally dropped down, she thought could have damaged the valve or perhaps there were sooty deposits.

Would it explode due to the excessive force? Shilpa felt dreadful. She mollified herself. Perhaps this must have been conceived by her undernourished imagination.

She diverted her mind by getting involved with the mixer to prepare the paste for the curry.

Shilpa’s conflict within had reached the zenith. The saddle of household chores, duties towards the husband and children had depleted her. She wanted to open out and feel the freedom.  The escape route was invisible. How could she detect the outlet? She had observed her friends who had become members of various clubs, sports foundations and social work groups, were active enough to ride a life along with the home front.

How did she fail to create the extra hour for her self? The defeat had become imperiously traumatic.

She viewed the pressure cooker with anxiety. All was not well. The heat had built up. She was tempted with the idea of switching off the stove and shifting the meat to an ordinary vessel, but that would consume time.

Why did the pressure cooker bother her to such an extent? She had heard of the likelihood of damaged pressure cookers could get detonated.  But such case was never ever reported in their circle. She assured her self.

She wanted to clean the house before the husband and children could reach home. She carried the vacuum cleaner and stepped inside the master bedroom.  The bottle of booze over the table drew her attention. She placed the vacuum cleaner down and touched the bottle. Her experience with intoxication was very inadequate. She recollected the session of beer with the hostel girls during college days.  The head ache which had gripped her when she woke up was unforgettable.

Nitin was not a chronic gulper. But he had his occasional moments of over drinking. She was baffled by his frivolous acts when he was in alcoholic state. He would shout for most inane reasons. The children would remain far. She would avoid any conversation once he consumes more than two pegs. He could be infuriating.

She could not reason out the transformation in the behavioral part once Nitin was drunk. Perhaps Nitin felt the liberation.

It was an impulsive act. She did not think further why she had to opt for it.  Shilpa opened the cap and gulped a long sip. The high powered mouthful concentrate pricked the inner area. The cough oozed out.  Nitin had never taken it straight, always diluted the spirit with soda water.

She came back to the kitchen. The spluttering seethe from the cooker was visible. The fuming hiss irritated her. The hidden temperature was entrapped and had become impenetrable. How long could she tolerate? She decided not to fret anymore. She picked up the glass, a bottle of water and moved into the bed room. She poured the liquor and mixed the water.

She swallowed the first sip. Now she did not cough. She tried with the second sip and then the third. She felt her mind and body was getting detached from the heaviness. Shilpa experienced a strange tranquility within, as if being cradled. An unwinding feeling was provoking her to loosen up. All the worries had dissolved. She felt reclined and reposed.

When the glass became empty, she poured the second drink………….

It was Eleven thirty of the morning, when Nitin returned from the tennis club. On his way back he picked up Rahul and Nikita. They ate some south Indian snacks in a popular restaurant and bought fish from the market. They entered the house. Nitin was astonished to find the main door which was unlocked.

“Shilpa,” Nitin called. “The food is ready? Mr.Kartik might is expected by next half an hour.”

There was no reply from Shilpa. He glanced into the kitchen. The mixer was on.  The pressure cooker was on the stove, but the whistle was getting slower and lower, as if dying down.  The search for Shilpa continued.  Rahul and Nikita followed. When they reached the bedroom the scene was hard to believe. They were stunned.

The bottle of booze was open. The glass had some left over. The liquor was smelt horrible. Shilpa was sleeping peacefully on the bed.

“Shilpa,” Nitin screamed. “What has happened to you?”

The fright shook the children. They were tensed. Nitin pulled a blanket and covered Shilpa.

“Nikita,” Nitin called his daughter. “Go and switch off the mixer and the stove.”

Nikita was about to turn to the direction of the kitchen, they all heard a very powerful blast. It shook the land and building. They were horrified. Nitin could not utter a word, but just a thought reflected to comprehend the reality.

Did the pressure cooker blow up?