When Ma Got Mad
Back in the day, when me and my siblings were on average four feet tall, the most terrifying thing in the world was our mother’s anger.. When Ma got mad, she got so mad, she’d put kings, gods, dance teachers, saints woken from deep meditation, feminists who took the streets, fashion designers, self-righteous teenagers, people tasked with putting IKEA furniture together, dramatic anime characters, dramatic action movie heroes, all to shame. Her anger would shake the ground, cause ruptures in mountains, brew wild storms, send shivers through forests, cause the spontaneous combustion of unsuspecting pieces of furniture, and even quiet down my third floor neighbour Gehlot uncle’s dog (who would otherwise take on the self-appointed, relentless task of barking at strangers and regulars alike who dared use the road that connected the row of apartment buildings in our Delhi Development Authority colony) to a nervous whimper. I can’t ever say it was great fun being the subject of my mother’s anger– it was the worst! I’d never actively invite that upon myself. But alas! My brothers and I, mere mortals, were prone to folly, lapses in our ethical judgements. Like when she discovered that I forged her signature (multiple times) on a library card, for not returning a book that I simply couldn’t find, or when she discovered adult magazines under my then-11-year-old brother’s bed, or when she discovered cigarettes under my then 14-year-old brother’s bed, or when she discovered marijuana under my then-16-year-old brother’s bed (why my brother didn’t choose a different hiding place–beats me). There were always reasons, and if her anger inspired bone-chilling fear, it also inspired some reflection. People just couldn’t tell where it came from, or why it took the form it did, or if there was perhaps a better form it could take– but all that was mere speculation. It was what it was. But I remember that after her anger, my mother would collect the burnt embers and ashes from all the pieces of furniture that had spontaneously combusted (did you think this was hyperbole?) and fed them as fertiliser to her garden– her proudest possession; the jewel of the crown- a