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My mother was asking me to give her my email ID because someone needed it to send her some documents on, so I wrote it down for her so that she could read it out on the phone to the person. It's the same one that appears at the end of this column: 's_malavika@dnaindia.net.'
"S dash malavika e dnaindia full stop net?" My mother read out from the paper I handed her. "No mum it's 's underscore -- see it's between the s and the m but under the line they appear on." "Write that down on the paper," my mother said.
So I wrote on a new page "S underscore malavika @dnaindia.net""S underscore malavika e dnaindia full stop net?" my mother read out. "No mom, that's not an E that's an 'at the rate of."
"Write that down too -- I'm sure to make a mistake otherwise," my mom said. So I wrote on a new piece of paper. "S underscore malavika at the rate of dnaindia.net"
This time we were nearly there. "s_malavika@dnaindia full stop net," my mother read out."No mom, you have to read out the full stop as 'dot.'" I said, "it's dot net, not full stop net," "Oh dear, I'm sure to forget that. Write it down for me please," said my mom.So, I finally wrote my email address as 's underscore malavika at the rate of dnaindia dot net.' And there the matter lies.
My mother belongs to the miniscule population of Indian women who earn their own living, use credit cards, travel abroad on their own and operate their own bank accounts. But even she, I have noticed, finds it difficult on occasion to keep up with the changing times.
Last year, when there was the launch of the very paper you are holding and giant hoardings all over the city featured men and women with bandages on their mouths, my mother was intrigued. Every day, like the rest of us she would speculate on what the hoardings were for.
Weeks went by as we waited for the mystery to be revealed.
Finally, she cracked it. "You know those hoardings that were all over the city showing people with their mouths sealed? "She said to me one evening. "What?" I replied.
"Well this evening I was returning from Churchgate and on Marine Drive I saw the same hoarding, and I know what they are saying all over the city!" she said excitedly.
"Really?" I said curiously, for I too was dying to know what all of them were about. "They're saying 'Bring back Neghar Khan,'" said my mother. "That's what the campaign is for."
My mother had seen one hoarding and imagined that every other of the same type all over the city had been un-bandaged to petition for the Pakistani actress who had been deported!
And not so long ago when the city was gripped in a celebrity coke scandal I realised that not every one was on the same page as Gen-next.
"This poor actor who they have arrested for buying coke, they say they are going to put him away in jail for years." Said my mother.
"Yes, "I said "he seems to be in deep trouble." "All for buying one Coca-Cola?" My mother said.
You see what I mean.
