In every household, workplace, and social gathering, there are two types of people: thermometers and thermostats. Thermometers react to the room’s temperature. If the mood is tense, they get nervous. If everyone is excited, they get hyped. If someone’s in a bad mood, they absorb that energy like a sponge and sulk, too.
Thermostats, on the other hand, dictate the climate. They walk into a room and, without a word, set the emotional temperature. And everyone, consciously or not, adjusts accordingly. And nobody—nobody—does this better than moms. Moms don’t just gauge the temperature. Oh no. They set it. If mom is cheerful, the whole house is cheerful. If mom is irritated, everyone treads lightly. If mom is silent—oh, buddy, run, its a ‘Category 5 emotional hurricane’.
Dads, meanwhile, are often thermometers. They wander into the house, sense tension and say something completely unhelpful like, “Wow, everyone’s in a bad mood, huh?” Boom. Household temperature drops to absolute zero. Kids screaming? Dad gets overwhelmed and yells for everyone to “calm down.” Mom looking irritated? He tiptoes out of the room to “check something in the study.”
Teenagers? They are the ultimate thermometers. Their moods swing wildly, dictated by a single text message, a cricket practice cancelled, the Indian team losing a match, a teacher saying “test tomorrow”. Wi-Fi down? The household enters a nuclear winter. Mom, the thermostat, refuses to let the household crumble under teenage climate instability. The moment a teen stomps in, mom adjusts the setting. Increases the “warmth” by offering a snack and asking about their day. Teen doubles down by rolling their eyes and retreating into their den. Mom retaliates with, “Since you have the energy to be disrespectful let’s clean your room and do your laundry.” And just like that, the temperature is reset.
{{/usCountry}}Teenagers? They are the ultimate thermometers. Their moods swing wildly, dictated by a single text message, a cricket practice cancelled, the Indian team losing a match, a teacher saying “test tomorrow”. Wi-Fi down? The household enters a nuclear winter. Mom, the thermostat, refuses to let the household crumble under teenage climate instability. The moment a teen stomps in, mom adjusts the setting. Increases the “warmth” by offering a snack and asking about their day. Teen doubles down by rolling their eyes and retreating into their den. Mom retaliates with, “Since you have the energy to be disrespectful let’s clean your room and do your laundry.” And just like that, the temperature is reset.
{{/usCountry}}At work, thermostats are the bosses who walk into a chaotic meeting, clap their hands, and say, “Relax. We’ve got this.”—and suddenly, people believe them. Thermometers, on the other hand, are the employees who see one person panicking and immediately declare, “This company is going under.”
Not everyone is born with the knack for setting the mood—it’s a skill honed over time. Mastering the art of being a thermostat isn’t about grand gestures; it’s found in the everyday subtleties—a raised eyebrow, a warm smile, an offered snack, or a simple acknowledgment that gently resets the room’s energy.
Just when mom thinks she’s the ultimate thermostat, she visits grandma. Grandma doesn’t just set the temperature. She is the sun. Mom walks in expecting to be in charge. But grandma, sitting there with her Pashmina shawl and Darjeeling tea, squints and says: “You’ve lost weight. Are you eating enough- come have this sandwich?” On closer inspection, it gets worse, as she says “You look tired. Are you sleeping well?” And just like that—mom is instantly demoted to a thermometer.
punamsidhu@gmail.com
(The writer is a Chandigarh-based retired Indian Revenue Service officer)