Tiger moms are mothers of children in the U.S. of Chinese and Indian ethnicity who relentlessly drive their children to greater and greater achievement. The term is of very recent origin but Tiger moms have been in existence for decades.
Rupa's body language was clear in spite of her assumed casualnessβshe was about to repeat a request.
"Ma."
"Yes, Rupa?"
"It is about Kasturi."
"Your classmate?"
"Yes."
"Whose father is a vegetable vendor?"
"You know Ma, Kasturi and her sister and brother get up at five to do their homework and at six they have to trim the vegetables their father gets from market."
"I wish your brother and you have such chores," said mother.
"I would love it too," Rupa said hurriedly. She was in no mood for a lecture on the benefits for health from early rising. "You know Ma Kasturi came to class yesterday with a cell phone. Her own."
"What if?"
"I mean even a vegetable vendor is able to afford a cell phone for his daughter."
"He goes around so he has to keep in touch with his daughter."
"I am the only one in my class not to have a cell phone. That is terrible."
"Only one?"
"Almost. Soon I will have no friends."
"What has cell phone to do with friendship?"
"Bonds of friendship are made after school hours from chats and text messages."
"Rupa I tell you for the last time that I do not want to hear about cell phone again. Your father and I have decided that you do not need one now."
"You have decided," said Rupa with some heat. "Don't drag father into this. Left to himself he would have got me one a year ago." Though mother did not comment she agreed with her assessment of her father. He is the type who is capable of presenting sons with cigarette lighters.
"That's enough Rupa. I don't want to hear about cell phone again."
"Or about guitars either," said her son Ramu entering the hall from his room.
"That's correct."
"Where did you get the classification of musical instruments into celestial ones and devil's tools?"
"The veena is celestial because its practitioners are not into drugs and alcohol like your guitarists and drummers," said mother "Anyway I need not have to give you explanations. No guitar and that's that."
"I wish you were like my friend Selvi's mother," said Rupa. "Every time she buys a sari or studs or whatever Selvi and her sister get something too. I don't know why you are not like that."
"I will lose all moral force if I do not do what I expect you to do."
"I wish you had the desires most women have," said Rupa bitterly. "I am paying fervently for a change in heart. I am sure God will hear my prayers."
"Military rule," said Ramu and snorted.
"If you say that again," mother shouted, "you will be in serious trouble."
They left for school. Her husband, a nine-to-five pen pusher, has fashioned an eight-to-seven timing for himself. No clubs, no card games, no drinking, just his office desk where his wife can get him unfailingly during office hours. No secretary or steno to keep him interested either. She was not complaining. She has many friends who would have welcomed a husband like hers. But deep down she knew why he stayed awayβhe was not too keen on tense home atmosphere his disciplinarian wife maintained.
*
The door bell rang. A young man with movie actor looks stood at the door. He had a large leather bag on his shoulder.
"Is this Mr. Sadagopan's place? I have come to attend to your washing machine."
"It is. Please come in." She led him to the tiny side room that modern houses have for washing machines. She explained the problem. The man took out his tools and was soon dismantling the machine.
She had been so busy in the morning that she was untidy with hair all in disarray. She freshened herself and changed her sari and blouse. Meanwhile the service engineer had laid open the innards of the machine.
"Needs servicing, that's all. When was it last serviced."
"A year and a half or may be more."
"Why no Annual Maintenance Contract?"
"I had it, but the service engineers were all the time wanting to sell this and that and predicting dire consequences if I did not. I don't like threats. I decided to call when the trouble occurs."
"For a sparsely used machine that is not a bad plan. Probably once a year you can call for routine servicing."
Saras watched him working methodically so different from the self trained wiremen and motor mechanics. Noting her interest in what he is doing he explained what had made the machine malfunction.
"Are you a qualified engineer?" she asked.
"I have a diploma in mechanical engineering. Of course the company gives us training to manage their equipment."
"What are the job prospects in your company?"