Battle Hymn of a Bewildered Mother by Shroff Shunali Khullar

Author:Shroff , Shunali Khullar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

THE STOCKHOLM SYNDROME*

NOT TOO LONG AGO, WE WERE ON OUR WAY TO OSAKA from Mumbai. This was my first trip ever to Japan and I had been eagerly preparing for it for weeks. I said my goodbyes to the girls, leaving them in the loving care of their grandparents, and headed for the airport where I was to meet the husband directly. I reached the airport 45 minutes before him and waded through a throng of confused Haj pilgrims assembled outside the airport, all the while feeling that I had left something behind in my car. With just my suitcase, laptop, and my handbag, something felt amiss. ‘Is that all? Is this your only item of check-in luggage, Ma’am?’ asked the lady at the counter. I thought for a while, looked around me and nodded affirmatively, though I felt somewhat unsure. And then it fell into place. I was travelling without my kids, and as much as I felt free, I felt somewhat unsettled. No pink Barbie suitcases, no over-excited chatter, no squabbling over who gets to sit on the stroller, no exasperated nanny ... isn’t this the kind of vacation every mother dreams of? And yet, I wasn’t entirely happy in my new-found freedom.

*(According to Wikipedia: Stockholm syndrome, or capture-bonding, is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and have positive feelings towards their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them. These feelings are generally considered irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims, who essentially mistake a lack of abuse from their captors for an act of kindness.)

I felt much like a bird that, on discovering it is suddenly free, is reluctant to fly into the skies because it is so used to the feeling of the ground beneath its feet.

I shook off the feeling as soon as I read the word Kansai on my boarding pass. I was going to Japan, a country I had longed to see since I was very young.

Ten years ago, when I was still a normal person with my marbles intact, I remember reserving a special kind of contempt for parents of unruly children. On many a flight I was tempted to ask such parents if they had considered drugging their children with some pediatric Valium, just out of courtesy to their co-passengers. Little did I know that, not too far in the distant future, I would be that parent; the one whose vile chromosomes run through the noisy, restless children you are dying to secretly beat up on the flight; the same extremely audible children who are running amok along the aisle leaving behind a trail of crisps and popcorn, Hansel and Gretel style. You want to take a nap and you long for some quiet but you cannot, and so you turn back and give a meaningful look to that parent from time to time. If the poor sod is looking apologetic but helpless, he/she may redeem himself a bit but if he/she

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