Mixer- Grinder

Then I thought there’s something in my life that I’m super proud of that stands out and is very special. My parents.

Our lives are not made of a few big moments. It’s made of infinite small moments.
I’ve been thinking of writing down some of those infinite moments in my life. But I have no idea where to begin.

I’m just me. A 25-year-old extra normal-average girl who nobody notices born to an ordinary middle-class family.
Nothing about me or my life is that cool.

Then I thought there’s something in my life that I’m super proud of that stands out and is very special. My parents.

I know what y’all are thinking. Ah.. parents. How unoriginal.

I know that everyone considers their parents to be exceptional. But my parents are a different kind of special.

They never forced anything on us. We are three girls, and we never heard them say “you are a girl”.(girls, you know how much people like to remind us that we are girls). They didn’t decide what our religion is or if we need a religion at all. At the age of 14, when I struggled with social anxiety, they didn’t ask me to get over it. Instead, took me to a proper doctor; they gave me more than enough time to process it. They never compared us to each other or other kids. They bought us an infinite number of books. They didn’t get us toys but helped us build our own toys with clay and wood. They taught us it doesn’t matter how many stupid dresses you own, but it matters when you plant a tree. They accepted us the way we were when our relatives complained we girls don’t dress up enough for occasions.

They provided us with a childhood that had no place for comparisons or insecurities.
And I’m incredibly grateful for that.

So I thought I would start by writing about them, one story at a time, where they showed us that living is an art. Everything they did was tiny life lessons for us.

My life is kinda okay now, and I believe that I’m a good person. But I don’t know what I will go through in the future or who I’m going to become. So I’m writing down some of those infinite moments of my life, Hoping that one day, if I stop being a good person, if I stop being kind, I would open this journal and read it, remember those little life lessons, relive those moments and find my path back to my soul again. I hope they serve as a beacon guiding me back home if I lose my way.

I’m gonna call this first story ” mixer grinder”.

So we are not that generous when it comes to materialistic things. We were brought up on a farm and still live in one. So fancy things that can be bought from a shop never caught our eye except for books( which we purchased from second-hand book shops, of course).

Although, please don’t think we are misers. We spend luxuriously on books, farm, trees, farming tools, animal health etc. My uncle likes to put it this way -“Saji and Suma (my dad and mum) spent more on the farm and in growing trees and animals than they spent to bring up and educate their 3 daughters”( I have to mention that it’s not like he didn’t care about our education, but we completed our schooling and graduation from government schools and colleges).

Moreover, weirdly enough, we are so lazy to buy a new TV or fridge or washing machine or a mixer when the old one stops working (or sometimes explode).

I will start with the story of our mixer grinder. The one we used to have was what can only be called a grandpa mixer. We don’t remember when we bought it. It stopped working many times and even caught on fire once(thanks to dad’s wiring skills) on a rainy day with crazy lightning. We got it repaired countless times, and every time it came back to serve us with so much loyalty. Then one day, its heart stopped, and we took him to the usual mechanic uncle. “For heaven’s sake, Saji!! Buy a new one. I can’t do anything on this old crap,” he gracefully denied.
” Do one thing. Take this old mixer. Someone left it here. We fixed it, but nobody came back to pick it up. It will do for a few days. And when you get out of your farm, buy a new one.”

We used that old mixer for another year, and then again, as expected, it stopped working.

This time I was determined that I’m going to buy a new mixer. I started looking it up on Amazon and Flipkart. Oblivious to the whole idea of online shopping, Amma began worrying about the mixer that would be sent to us.

Then she was worried about having to spend 5000 rupees on a mixer. I know you guys will think she is crazy. But to my knowledge, the only time she wore a saree that cost more than 500 was at her wedding.

Consequently, as she was notably apprehensive about the cost, I admitted the truth that if we buy it online, we can buy it for just 3000 rupees.

Startled by this new discovery, she stood there looking into my eyes. Her mouth was hanging open, and her eyes, about to drop off their sockets. She didn’t move for a few seconds. I gave her some time to digest the fact.

Then she shouted, “3000”? She asked again.”For the same sound quality mixer????”

I said, yes.


“Amma… They have a lot of customers online, millions of them. That’s how the price is too low.”

She looked into the distance, a faraway look crossing her face, and to my surprise, she said, “Okay. Order two,” she had a smile bigger than her face this time. That ‘I know something you don’t’ kind of smile.



Why do we need 2, Amma?

Are you gonna buy and sell it for MRP???”

I had to ask. I wanted to find what was on my mom’s mind.

“Rajani doesn’t have a mixer. We should get her one if we can afford it.”

So Rajani aunty is the one who helps to clean our house almost 2 days every week. Her kids go to my mom’s school. Rajani aunty always sings songs, my mom teaches her. She’s a charming and energetic person. I sometimes get exhausted only by talking to her. If talking is a superpower, then Rajani aunty is a superhero.

Thus you can imagine my surprise now. I looked at my mom with my eyes wide open, for I saw another side to her.

She can’t spend 5000 to buy a mixer for herself but is excited about spending 6000 so that she can give one to someone who doesn’t have it.

These are one of those moments where I feel so small in front of Amma, moments which I marked as chapters in my rule book of life, moments that I wish to flip back to when I get lost in future.

If only I were half as kind as she is.

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