“I luv ya, mom”
As the train whizzed past the half-spoilt forestation and empty stations, that seemed like cheap decorations the railway ministry could finally afford after its large budget was whisked away by ‘practical’ politicians and the big-bellied contractors, Sarah quite indifferent to all these issues of the nation, worked sincerely on one thought- ‘She was going home’. It was three months after she had come home last time during a weekend that was quite unexpectedly extended by a state holiday. This time it was going to be a real holiday – a month bail from the burdens of student hood and pre-engineer hood. The train, finally deciding to honor the bouncing crowd moving helter-skelter decided to stop and salute. In course of this honor visit, Sarah got down from the train onto the platform searching wide-eyed for her mother amongst the crowd, wishing she had worn her heels today.
Finally after a series of calls and lonely waiting, she united with her mother only to be almost simultaneously shattered by “Holy goodness, look at your hair! Why don’t you oil them? Blah! Blah! Blah… ”. Sarah’s mother could almost never locate the most infinite goodness in her. It was always the infinitesimal defects that captivated her mother in her zoomed-in view of Sarah. She sat in mournful silence as the counsel focus shifted from oiling of her hair to carefulness and further to the way she looked, smiled and it would have moved to a lot more diverse issues if the car had not suddenly halted at their pristine porch.
“You must learn to be cleaner and stop making a mess with your things. Why can’t you fold your unwashed clothes before you pack them up? Blah! Blah! Blah…” the session continued after a short commercial break, when Sarah had ventured to move her luggage from the car to the house. After the unpacking episode her mother had loosened a bit only to get her vigor back at the dining session, when she complained about how little Sarah ate and how under-nourished she looked.
All through this, Sarah dreamed in vain about the hugs-and-kisses arrival she had envisioned and was quite stunned by the mere extent of the contrast. The only syllables she managed to utter in the course of this monologue, even after 18 years of strict education, were ‘Ha’, ’Na’ and a complex ‘Okay’. Sarah wished for a miracle to make the college re-open sooner.
The next day, Sarah woke up at nine the next morning, counting her excuses before she finally got up from that bed. After all, it was a holiday and when did ‘holiday’ ever mean otherwise? She slowly brushed, washed and went down to the living room, opened the newspaper and started skimming through the black and white columns and quickly rushed to the Sports page taking the whole next hour creating a digital copy of the pages in her brain. After 5 minutes of yelling, Sarah finally gave in. She munched through the breakfast as she listened to yet another essay on ‘The importance of Breakfast’.
She went back to the living room, switched on the television and started reading the messages on her mobile. She replied to one of her friends. Soon Sarah and the other friend, who followed a very similar schedule in a very similar environment some 350 kms away, started discussing through the ‘Short Messaging service’ or the SMS as it was fondly called.
Friend: quite borin already!!!
Sarah: very much da same here! xcept 4 brkfast.. Mmmm! Delicious… wish colg wud start earlier!
Friend: Any plans 4 today???
Sarah: plannin 2 go meet my frnds.. If dey dnt hav other plans fcours?!?! Wassup der?
Friend: Nt much… quite undecided.. so wen r u cuming bak??
Sarah: Mayb b4 2 days!! Wen r u gonna b bak?
Friend: As soon s dey lemme go!! JJJ
Sarah: Lol!!!
Friend: Ts deccan Vs CSK today!! Dnt miss tJ
“Don’t you pick that mobile again. You keep messaging all day and those waves will surely damage your brain. What is this addiction? And the SMS language, you people are practically spoiling it. Shakespeare would shame himself to death if he had been alive.”
Friend: u der???
It was Sarah’s call back to reality. Her mother was shouting at the top of her voice. Sarah mumbled under her breath. She did not want to debate, not that she feared the strength of her argument but because of the sheer uselessness of debating with the judge herself. Shakespeare did invent a language for himself. There was not a one in a million chance that he would be upset with their new language. The SMS language as they called it conveyed more emotions than did the plain old script. Even otherwise the language was far too long and redundant for the 21st century. It was time for a new renaissance.
Friend: Still alive?
Friend: Hello!!
Sarah’s mother walked away in a huff grumbling about the evil influences of the e-generation. Sarah returned back to the paused conversation with her almost irritated friend.
Sarah: Mom came along!?!
Friend: another lecture? Mothers r like dat! Annoying!!
Sarah: Nt lik dat! She fusses sumtimes bt she s real cool!!! Luv mine!
Friend: Yeah! I luv mine 2 bt she givs me no time 2 show tLL
Sarah: Lol!! Mine neither?!?!
Friend: Gotta go!! Bye.. Gr8 day!
Sarah: U 2! ByeJJ
“I luv ya, ma” might never be as good as “I love you, mother” for her mother. Still, good daughters always stick up for their mothers and love them in their own way however hard the mothers might be. She ‘hmphh’ed to herself as she strolled to the kitchen carefully chucking the mobile out of her mother’s all-spotting eye.
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