The three feet high knock.. :)

Bathing is a highly under-rated pleasure. Don't get your mind all wandering now. All I mean is the pleasure of peacefully cleansing yourself within a decent time-frame, undisturbed and undistracted. A few minutes of sopping out of the the accumulated grime and muscle tension is all I ask. And this could mean anywhere between 5 and 7 minutes. Anything in the double digits would just be a foolhardy extravagance! Especially if you are a mother, this pleasure is long denied and much appreciated. If you are a mother who feels otherwise, just stop reading here - because I begrudge you this indulgence ;)

My days go by in a typical whiff and a song. The kidlet has afternoon school - which means that my entire morning and mid-day is taken care of. Breakfast ,entertaining kid in the morning while supervising the help, getting her ready for school, and because by the time she leaves at 11, the day is already upon me - there are the dozen odd chores that I can just about manage to chortle into the interim 3 hours that she is away. Oh, and 45 minutes of these three hours are spent in commuting to her school to pick her up. If mornings are rushed, evenings are even more packed. There are classes to be taken to, birthday parties to attend, park -time to be supervised and last-minute groceries to be purchased. At the end of the day, most days, I feel like I've been pulled through a bramble bush backwards. Seriously. The feet are the most sullen, somedays my hair is also crackling in protest. Added to this, the child and me are usually by ourselves at this hour (husband travels much, comes home late etc.)- so I have the added responsibility of being delightfully educative and conversational when I would much rather be dipped in a huge hot tub of reviving blessed water - and some bath salts if it was not too much of an effort! Given the fact that I live in Mumbai, even if I had a bath tub in my house, there wouldn't be enough water to fill it with or even if there was - it would smell like a chlorine experiment, so I should stop dreaming now!

However a 5 minute balti-mug/sting under the shower bath should not be that difficult you would think. Gah! How wrong you are and how right Murphy was. This is how things pan out on most days.

Me : Baby, I'm going for a wash.

Kid : Ok, Mom. (She has already been plonked in front of the ever moronic 'Oggy and the Cockroaches' - Bad mother post - for another time)

Me : You sit there ok. I'll be out in 5 minutes.

Kid : Ok, Mom.

< I leave for the bathroom. Water has already been filled in the bucket. I'm afraid of the shower because between the sounds of the traffic, band-baaja-baarats outside and Oggy I can barely hear anything without having to compound it with the lull of streaming water, however nice that feels. I close the door, step out of my clothes and let the first flush of respite run down my face. My body is barely wet when....>

Kid : Mom..< I pretend not to hear>

Kid : Mo-aw-ohm

Me : Yes, baby, what happened.

Kid : Where are you? < This, when she is obviously standing right outside the bathroom door.

Me : I am in the bathroom.

Kid : What are you doing Mom?

Me : I'm taking a bath. I told you, na?

Kid : Mom. I need to do su-su.

Me : OK. I'll be out in a minute.

(Knock, knock, knock..the three feet high knocks from the other side of the door are continuous and ever urgent. There is no way of ignoring them)

I have no idea how I end my bath most days. All I know is that what I start as a relaxation routine typically turns on its head for me and I step out all hot and breathless most days. Ah, forget moisturisers, under-eye and hand creams I step right out from the car-wash to the mud pond if you know what I mean.

You know, while I was typing this I felt it may come across as such a minor gripe! But heart of hearts I really feel it is not. On those days - rare days - that I do get a few undisturbed minutes to myself - when I'm not being barged upon with neediness - I feel so much better equipped. To handle my self, my child and the cares of a family. And is that really too much to ask?