Posted:
A good laugh..
This will make your day guys...esp those who live away
from home..
Enjoy...
Must read its simply brilliant
It was written by Devi Sankaree.
You have to admit that Indian mothers are in a class
of their own.
Where else in the world would you find an entire race
of paranoid mothers who, from the minute you are born, are
convinced you are going to die?
Remember going to the beach as a child? You're so
excited you get up before the birds and make a nuisance of yourself as you
hunt around for your red bucket and spade. Your mother then drags your head
through your one-piece costume and then, despite your protests, throws on
the
thickest jersey she can find and a woolly hat (the kind with a pom-pom at
the
top).
A glance in the mirror confirms your suspicions: you
look more like a storybook snowman than somebody going to spend a fun
day in the sun.
Then, after what seems like hours, you, together with
the contents of half the house, tumble out of the car. The distinctive
sea air makes you mad with excitement, but just as you're about to dip your
toe into the deliciously warm water of the paddling pool, your
mother comes running up behind you, hysterically screaming that you're
going to DROWN.
You try to explain that you, too, are afraid of the big waves and
That you're perfectly happy playing here where it's safe.
But your mother doesn't listen. She bends from her waist, her finger
wagging
millimetres from your nose as she notifies you that the sea is
DANGEROUS and that you could DIE.
By now, all your female relatives have supportively congregated
Behind your mother and are looking at you crossly, recounting the
story of Uncle So-and-So who was "taken away" by a tidal wave in
1912.
You sadly spend the rest of your day in the sun far up the beach
(within spitting distance of the carpark), building boring sandcastles. And
every time you walk to within 10 metres of the water, the histrionics
return.
The next day you lie to your friends about how you
swam with the dolphins and sharks. Nobody believes you.
Their mothers are exactly like yours.
It's no wonder that most of the people I know will
never consider bungee jumping or climbing Mount Everest . Our mothers
have sewn it into our heads that such things are DANGEROUS and will
surely result in DEATH.
Apart from their paranoia of death, Indian mothers have a twisted
sense of sympathy. Like the time when you fell and grazed your little
knee, and instead of saying something like, "Shame, you poor thing,
let me put some Dettol and a plaster on it and then I'll give you an
ice-cream," an Indian mother reacts hysterically (again!) with, "Why
did you fall down? I told you not to run around like a mad thing! See what
happens when you run?"
Then, to teach you a lesson, you'll get a smack. For
falling down. Just so that you won't do it again. I mean, who falls
down on purpose?
And when they whack you, they're like the Mafia. They
hit you and leave no evidence. At least nothing that will stand up
in court. And who would believe you if you told them that you often
got smacked with anything from a book to a loaf of bread?
And when their smacking fits are over, they threaten
to tell your father when he gets home from work about what a
deviant you are.
"Just wait till daddy comes home. He'll finish you," they
promise almost gleefully.
Yet, the silent truth was that your father wasn't the
villain in this tragedy. He would listen patiently as your mother
described your sins in graphic detail, peppering her monologue with
comments such as, "That child is going to kill me one day," "What I did
to get one child like this?" and "You don't know what I go through in
this house."
Your father, who was brought up by another Indian
mother, would nod at the appropriate moments and look suitably
> compassionate.
> >
> > When he finally strode off purposely in the direction
> of your room
> (to
> "sort
> > you out"), your mollified mother would turn on the
> radio and hum
> > serenely, comfortable in the knowledge that you were
> going to learn
> a
> lesson.
> > Meanwhile, in a whisper, your father would ask you not
> to irritate
> > your mother because "you know what she's like and how
> she gets
> sometimes".
> >
> > Then there's the guilt thing. Nobody, and I mean
> NOBODY, can do guilt
>
> > like Indian mothers.
> >
> > When you're younger, they're known to say things like,
> "What I don't
>
> > do
> for
> > you children. I slave like a dog, and this is the
> thanks I get." This
>
> > is normally accompanied by a great deal of pot-banging
> and sniffing.
> >
> > It doesn't get any better as you get older. "What I
> didn't do for you
>
> > children. I slaved like a dog and this is the thanks I
> get. Never
> > mind,
> just
> > now I'm going to DIE and then you will all be HAPPY."
> >
> > It's designed to hit you where it hurts most. You feel
> the pain,
> > berate yourself for being an ungrateful child and do
> whatever it
> takes
>
> > to make
> her
> > happy.
> >
> > And your efforts are all worth it because, despite
> their, er,
> > idiosyncrasies, there are some things about Indian
> mothers that can
> > never
> be
> > forgotten.
> >
> > Who else do you know able to take your father's
> pitiful wages and
> feed
>
> > you all like royalty, dress you in home-sewn clothes
> that would be
> the
>
> > envy of your friends and marry you all off in such
> style? Who else
> > made your home warm with love and had shoulders that
> took on your
> > problems while her
> issues
> > were silently filed away? Who else would first dress
> her husband and
>
> > children and, within five minutes, turn herself into a
> movie star?
> >
> > And who else has that uncanny ability of turning their
> daughters into
>
> > themselves? This, despite their daughters insisting
> that they will
> > NEVER
> BE
> > LIKE THEIR MOTHERS.
> >
> > Ask me, I've become one of them. And so will you.
> >
> > We've been trained by the masters !!
This will make your day guys...esp those who live away
from home..
Enjoy...
Must read its simply brilliant
It was written by Devi Sankaree.
You have to admit that Indian mothers are in a class
of their own.
Where else in the world would you find an entire race
of paranoid mothers who, from the minute you are born, are
convinced you are going to die?
Remember going to the beach as a child? You're so
excited you get up before the birds and make a nuisance of yourself as you
hunt around for your red bucket and spade. Your mother then drags your head
through your one-piece costume and then, despite your protests, throws on
the
thickest jersey she can find and a woolly hat (the kind with a pom-pom at
the
top).
A glance in the mirror confirms your suspicions: you
look more like a storybook snowman than somebody going to spend a fun
day in the sun.
Then, after what seems like hours, you, together with
the contents of half the house, tumble out of the car. The distinctive
sea air makes you mad with excitement, but just as you're about to dip your
toe into the deliciously warm water of the paddling pool, your
mother comes running up behind you, hysterically screaming that you're
going to DROWN.
You try to explain that you, too, are afraid of the big waves and
That you're perfectly happy playing here where it's safe.
But your mother doesn't listen. She bends from her waist, her finger
wagging
millimetres from your nose as she notifies you that the sea is
DANGEROUS and that you could DIE.
By now, all your female relatives have supportively congregated
Behind your mother and are looking at you crossly, recounting the
story of Uncle So-and-So who was "taken away" by a tidal wave in
1912.
You sadly spend the rest of your day in the sun far up the beach
(within spitting distance of the carpark), building boring sandcastles. And
every time you walk to within 10 metres of the water, the histrionics
return.
The next day you lie to your friends about how you
swam with the dolphins and sharks. Nobody believes you.
Their mothers are exactly like yours.
It's no wonder that most of the people I know will
never consider bungee jumping or climbing Mount Everest . Our mothers
have sewn it into our heads that such things are DANGEROUS and will
surely result in DEATH.
Apart from their paranoia of death, Indian mothers have a twisted
sense of sympathy. Like the time when you fell and grazed your little
knee, and instead of saying something like, "Shame, you poor thing,
let me put some Dettol and a plaster on it and then I'll give you an
ice-cream," an Indian mother reacts hysterically (again!) with, "Why
did you fall down? I told you not to run around like a mad thing! See what
happens when you run?"
Then, to teach you a lesson, you'll get a smack. For
falling down. Just so that you won't do it again. I mean, who falls
down on purpose?
And when they whack you, they're like the Mafia. They
hit you and leave no evidence. At least nothing that will stand up
in court. And who would believe you if you told them that you often
got smacked with anything from a book to a loaf of bread?
And when their smacking fits are over, they threaten
to tell your father when he gets home from work about what a
deviant you are.
"Just wait till daddy comes home. He'll finish you," they
promise almost gleefully.
Yet, the silent truth was that your father wasn't the
villain in this tragedy. He would listen patiently as your mother
described your sins in graphic detail, peppering her monologue with
comments such as, "That child is going to kill me one day," "What I did
to get one child like this?" and "You don't know what I go through in
this house."
Your father, who was brought up by another Indian
mother, would nod at the appropriate moments and look suitably
> compassionate.
> >
> > When he finally strode off purposely in the direction
> of your room
> (to
> "sort
> > you out"), your mollified mother would turn on the
> radio and hum
> > serenely, comfortable in the knowledge that you were
> going to learn
> a
> lesson.
> > Meanwhile, in a whisper, your father would ask you not
> to irritate
> > your mother because "you know what she's like and how
> she gets
> sometimes".
> >
> > Then there's the guilt thing. Nobody, and I mean
> NOBODY, can do guilt
>
> > like Indian mothers.
> >
> > When you're younger, they're known to say things like,
> "What I don't
>
> > do
> for
> > you children. I slave like a dog, and this is the
> thanks I get." This
>
> > is normally accompanied by a great deal of pot-banging
> and sniffing.
> >
> > It doesn't get any better as you get older. "What I
> didn't do for you
>
> > children. I slaved like a dog and this is the thanks I
> get. Never
> > mind,
> just
> > now I'm going to DIE and then you will all be HAPPY."
> >
> > It's designed to hit you where it hurts most. You feel
> the pain,
> > berate yourself for being an ungrateful child and do
> whatever it
> takes
>
> > to make
> her
> > happy.
> >
> > And your efforts are all worth it because, despite
> their, er,
> > idiosyncrasies, there are some things about Indian
> mothers that can
> > never
> be
> > forgotten.
> >
> > Who else do you know able to take your father's
> pitiful wages and
> feed
>
> > you all like royalty, dress you in home-sewn clothes
> that would be
> the
>
> > envy of your friends and marry you all off in such
> style? Who else
> > made your home warm with love and had shoulders that
> took on your
> > problems while her
> issues
> > were silently filed away? Who else would first dress
> her husband and
>
> > children and, within five minutes, turn herself into a
> movie star?
> >
> > And who else has that uncanny ability of turning their
> daughters into
>
> > themselves? This, despite their daughters insisting
> that they will
> > NEVER
> BE
> > LIKE THEIR MOTHERS.
> >
> > Ask me, I've become one of them. And so will you.
> >
> > We've been trained by the masters !!
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