I have arrived… I have not… I have arrived… and so it goes on for the ever-growing club of urbane, suave and wannabe young moms. This existential dilemma may give them a furrow or two (crow feet, frown lines et al), for which the Botox help is at hand. Rohit Gupta writeschandigarh Updated: Dec 05, 2012 11:08 IST
I have arrived… I have not… I have arrived… and so it goes on for the ever-growing club of urbane, suave and wannabe young moms. This existential dilemma may give them a furrow or two (crow feet, frown lines et al), for which the Botox help is at hand.
She would go any length to snatch the Numero Uno crown loyal to no single head. Her journey begins with holy matrimony and she is blessed if she gets a spouse who fancies himself to be the real metrosexual man. She uploads the happening moments of her married life on Facebook and maintains a vigil on the status of her rivals. It is not her husband but FB that gives her sleepless nights.
Time passes by and motherhood happens. She gets down to washboard that ugly belly bump in a virtual race against time. "Were it you who delivered the baby or did you hire a surrogate mother!" a remark made at her overnight transformation, is a trophy that no Oscar can ever match. The next step is to select a nanny (a maid is for pretenders to the crown) for her baby. The child taken care of, she directs herself to replenish her arsenal.
From learning French to doing Pilates and Salsa, and experimenting with cocktails: name it, and she will do it. The Kitty Club is the amphitheatre of her gladiator self. It may be a "handbag" or a "sandal" to pretenders but she knows it only as a "Louis Vuitton" or an "Aldo". She has to be a know all, and mum's not the word for her. Sample this: "Priyanka Gandhi committed such a mistake by marrying this Robert Vadra guy. She should have married an Indian."
No, Mommy has not forgotten the baby. He now is in school; of course, the best in town. At the meets, she complains about the preferential treatment to the class topper. Since multitasking is her forte, from behind her dark shades, her eyes notice the Guccis, Pradas, and solitaires while she holds the teacher to task.
Mommy understands well that every child is unique, since she has devoured those great treatises on education and psychology ("Taare Zameen Par" and "3 Idiots"). It drives her crazy that the class teacher is a bumpkin who is unable to spot the hidden genius of her child.
In her mind, the roadmap for her child is clear: Mayo College till High School and for undergraduate course, a school in the US. This will brighten his matrimonial prospects.
One day, during coffee at Starbucks with her daughter, who is 18, in walks the young lady's friend who chides the pal for never telling her before that she had such a lovely younger sister. Mommy Cool looks back at all the years gone by and understands that it was worth all the effort. It would be cruel on my part to tell her that the girls exchanged a wink.