Do you want to master the art of Human Resource Development? Are you searching for a suitable trainer? Well, you need not go far in search of one... the female member of the middle generation of your family will be the right choice.
I have seen my mom juggling things among the members of our family in a graceful manner. When we were young there used to be constant wars – between kids, between kids and grandparents (The rule was simple: your enemy’s enemy becomes your friend. In that war we used to gather all our weapons against grandparents!). Invariably, the peace-maker was none other than our mother. Grandparents had the common habit of fault-finding with us – for not oiling our hair properly, for making sound while chewing, giggling all the time while eating…! I didn’t know how many items they included in their "don’t-do" list! We derived immense pleasure each time breaking the rules. When the heat of argument used to blow up, mom would appear from nowhere and start pleading with grannies: "Please maa , they are kids, they will learn it."
After the elders cleared out, she would just stare at us, grind her teeth talk to us in a low pitch: "How many times should I tell you? Don’t irritate elders. Can’t you people behave properly at least when they are around?"
The true capacity of my mom as an HR specialist became visible to me at a much later stage. I was at my maternal home expecting our son’s birth. My paternal grandmother declared: "Pregnant women should drink kashaayam regularly!"
I almost fainted hearing this, for kashaayam has the most bitter taste in the world. You take in one spoon and your taste buds will remain unconscious for hours. Seeing my plight and sensing my urge to revolt, my mom intervened: " Ma , this generation of girls won’t do all these things. Why should we waste our energy?"
But that day itself she prepared kashaayam and made me drink it by brainwashing me with the ease of pushing a pin into a banana, and that too in front of my granny! She scored both as an obedient mother-in-law and a caring mother!
Next was the hunt for a maid. There was already one, but mom was not satisfied. She argued with my father: "See, there are two old women – your mom and my mom, your daughter and the soon-to-be grandchild. At least for bathing the child and cooking, I need an assistant."
Hearing the references to his mother, his daughter and his grandchild, my father was clean-bowled (he conveniently ignored his mother-in-law) and showed the green signal for a new maid.
Mom started interviewing candidates. She made the prospective maids untie their hair in front of her on one pretext or other to know whether the braid was original. According to her, ladies with artificial hair had the habit of shaking their hair unknowingly while doing their work in the kitchen, which was hazardous!
Those who successfully cleared the first step were asked to make a cup of coffee for her, that too in a very discreet manner. She talked as if to herself, "Oh, I am so tired. If only I got a cup of coffee…."
The eager job aspirants rushed to the kitchen and prepared the finest coffee as per their job knowledge. As soon as mom sipped it I could read her mind: ‘This much sugar … the sugar factories (my father and his mother) are definitely going to make use of her…’
Then with a smile sweeter than the coffee she had, she said: "Give me your address and I shall let you know." The candidate never got to know the result.
One lady cleared the sugar test but failed miserably in the next level.
She was asked whether she knew to bathe the new-born.
"What is so great about it? Rub properly and that’s all!!"
Mom could not even stand hearing about the handling the baby thus. She was also shown the way out.
Finally one lady cleared all the tests and was enthroned as the special servant.
Mom entered the kitchen and appraised her of the health status of all the family members. Then she added, "You cook as I tell you, except for my daughter. I will cook for her myself!"
I was bewildered and asked her: "You only said you can’t do everything alone and appointed her. Now why don’t you let her do it?"
She replied: "Yes, but this is your first delivery. I can’t leave anything to chance. So let me do it myself."
And finally the ordeal was over and my son made his presence felt with a shrill cry. I was back home with my tender bundle of joy. It was time for him to have a bath.
My mother made all the preparations. Of course she did not let the maid touch the baby. Slowly she took him to the bathing area and put him down. I gently touched my mom’s shoulders and told her: "Mom, if you don’t mind, shall I bathe him?"
My mom smiled at me knowingly and said yes. I had started showing the results of her HR training!
