The Modi-fied Broomstick

It was 2 days before Diwali. Mom, Dad and me are out and about shopping groceries. Both my parents are too involved when it comes to cleaning. My mom had been talking for days about a specific type of broom which makes the task of clearing spider webs easy. She had given the broomstick a ridiculous name.She heard about it from my aunt in Mumbai about a week ago and started hunting for it immediately ( we live in Chennai). We are at a supermarket which has everything from groceries to plastic containers etc. It was a big store with numerous aisles. My mother's first priority was to check the broom section obviously. My father is busy buying gulab jamun mixes and stuff while my mother is frantically searching for the broomstick. I was not amused because

1.. We were not looking for a quidditch broom
2. I was not Hagrid
3. My mother was not Harry Potter
4. We weren't in Diagon Alley 
5. I didn't get anything to eat and my stomach clearly wanted me to go the chips aisle.

As I mentioned before, it was Diwali time and store had many customers. I walked a few steps away from my mom and started gazing at the collection of coffee mugs at the store.

My mother, on the other hand, found the one she had been looking for. It was love at first sight. She was the savior who was born to change the destiny of the abandoned broomstick. It was the last one in stock kept hidden behind other broomsticks My mother tried to reach it, but couldn't.

I hear my mother's voice addressing me,
"Hey, Modi thodapam (broomstick in Tamil) is here, get it out for me."
6 people between us. 12 eyes looking in my direction. 12 amused eyes followed me as I walked angrily towards my mother and say " Call that broom with that name one more time and you're going to jail". My mother ignores my comment and examines the other brooms.

I stealthily look around and find that the people started to get back to their own business. Expect an old guy who kept staring at us till we left the aisle. I could say he was offended by the look on his face, but I knew 2 reasons why he would be offended and I couldn't pinpoint which one of it was right. He was either a:-
1. BJP supporter - The word thodapam (broom) next to the word Modi bothered him.
2. AAP supporter - The word Modi next to the word thodapam (broom - party symbol) bothered him.

I grab the broom, hand it to my mom and urge her to leave the aisle. But no, my mom had to do the quality check! Neither Modi nor Kejriwal would have been pleased as it took a solid 15 minutes for the broom to be approved by my mother. The criteria for approval:-
1. Was the broom long enough to reach the ceiling? - 6 foot tall - taller than dad
2. Was it foldable and easy to store? - Yes - Can be folded twice
3. Quality? - Hard plastic- durable
4. Price?- Affordable - 100 rupees - but Mumbai aunt bought it for 50.

I became the sales representative the entire time and pointed out all the positive things about the broom so we can get out sooner. She was not pleased with the color and Women are obsessed with colors of everything they own! The broom was neon pink.

" Neon colors are in trend ma, get it na?" I say.
" I know di, but you know na, pink is not suitable for our family, especially for your sister. It brings bad luck." She says.
"That's rubbish, get it and let's leave," I say. A little firmly.
"Who do you think you are, don't you order me, I am your mother and I know what's good for the family," she says. Angrily.

I was quiet because if I had started to argue there, I knew that the neon pink broomstick would become a bad luck for me and not my sister and my mother would have cleaned my face with it.
*The old man still watching our drama*
A few seconds later, I told her, this time softly " it's the last piece " and that did the trick!

She decided to buy it and joined my Dad in picking out other groceries, while I followed them through every aisle, drawing attention from fellow customers. Why? because,

 I was "the girl with, 6 foot tall, taller than her dad, neon pink affordable Modi thodapam, made with durable plastic" following her parents. That's why parents take you out, to help them carry stuff around. And maybe earn a plate of Samosa if you have been good. My plate of samosa went flying into the black hole when I "ordered" my mother to get the broom.

For the next whole hour, I was walking around the store like Jesus, except he had a on cross his shoulder and I had a neon pink Modi thodapam on mine. Contradicting my green kurta!

After the shopping, we hopped onto an auto and started our journey home. The neon pink Modi thodapam was laid horizontally and stretched from my lap, onto my mother's and ending on my father's lap. In the return journey, I asked my mother the question I had been wanting to ask for the past hour,

"Ma, why do you call it Modi thodapam, that too in public?" I ask.

"What's wrong in that, this is the same model that Modi used in Swach Bharat movement, that's why I call it Modi thodapam," she says.

I smile to myself and observe the difference in perspectives among us. The modified broomstick made me thinking about perspectives. We reach home and my mom carefully places her broom in a corner propped between the wall and my table.

It has been a week since the neon pink Modi thodapam entered our house. It still has its plastic cover and the spiders still have their web.

I see it daily, the Modi-fied affordable neon pink broomstick standing there beside my table, tall, taller than dad, folded twice, made of durable plastic. After all, its destiny was just to occupy a different corner in a different house.