When I was a kid, one of the frequent topics for essays was ‘An Unwelcomed Guest.’ I still remember I used to randomly write some sentences about someone without actually ever going through what was the purpose of writing such an essay. Today when I look back, I realize that we as kids were expected to write an experience of discomfort along with mannerisms working simultaneously on our minds.
Today in my late twenties, I know exactly what it feels to have an unwelcomed guest at home. The very idea that my mom’s maternal uncle would be visiting my house was kind of discomforting when my mom first broke the news to me a few weeks back. It was a kind of shock because I had never shared any kind of comfortable wavelength with him all my life. I had met him on a few occasions and he was generally famous in the family as Hitler on virtue of his ability to scold and shout at people for the most trivial reasons, which were displeasing to him. This person was visiting my house in Hyderabad. Why? The question kept on daunting on my mind. He definitely was not coming down to see me and my new married life. Then I discovered he was actually coming on a tour to Vizag and Hyderabad with a tour operator and happily decided to depart from the troupe in Hyderabad and stay with me.
My mom pleaded with me that it was a matter of a couple of days and I should be able to adjust. Within a week, I got the happy discovery that he was actually going to stay for 6 days with me. My mom also informed me that when she had tried to reason out with him that we were really busy and hardly stayed at home and he would feel bored alone, his answer was that he would cook for us and would manage on his own.
Cooking!!! Of course, one of the main reasons of my worry with such far-fetched relations. My lifestyle over the past few years, the fact that I work and have been staying away from my home town for 6 years now make me realize now that I have turned out to be so different from what my relatives would have expected of me. What is my reality is not their reality at all and vice-versa. With an epitome of patience as my husband, I have lived to manage my life on my own and do things only when I want to do. The idea that a 70+ old man would be staying at my place for 6 days meant lot of cooking for me, which was a nightmare in itself. But, after what my mom told me about his culinary willingness to feed others, I was a bit comfortable on that front only waiting to realize later that he refused to take even a glass of water himself.
He arrived finally in the midst of our busy schedule, resulting in my reaching at his guest house after 8 hours of leadership training, the content still floating on my mind, and my husband’s sneaking out of the office for 1 hour just for this task. We showed him his room. As soon as he changed, he wanted to eat something. I served him Maggie and then started to cook two dishes. A whole day of training and then after office hour work had totally kept me exhausted and tired. However, this man refused to do anything not even move his chair back after he got off from the dining table; replacing the plate on the sink and dumping his leftovers in to the bin were definitely beyond his perception I guess. It was the first day and I thought he was taking time to adjust.
There was more to come next day. He made us wake up really early to serve him hot water, raw tea, breakfast, hot water for bathing, leave at the place he wanted to go, etc. So, I and my husband, used to managing time on our own, were totally running here and there serving our royal highness. It was more difficult for me because I am not a morning person at all. I have never made breakfast for myself for the last 6 years. I started to have breakfast only when my company decided to offer breakfast to its employees.
His expectations were never ending and inspite of my informing him in advance that I had to leave for a meeting in the evening, he made sure that I cook dinner and then serve him snacks, and spoil my mood so much that I stay back only to serve him further. My poor husband had a worse time as this old man didn’t even let him sit and relax. If I were not there, he made sure that my husband did all these things: dumping his leftovers, serving him food, etc.
This is one of my first-hand experiences of having an unwelcomed guest at home. We don’t share a relation of comfort, nor is there a willingness to meet, yet he is here, staying at my home, managing the time and life of me and my husband. And yet we kept thinking that our generation governs its own life … I guess only when we are alone can we do so.
Today when I am writing this article, the topic is an unwelcomed guest, which in itself means that I did not agree to the idea of his staying at my house on the first place and had presumptions of my own. To add on to that, he did everything from his end to keep up to the title of the essay and enforce once again that my intuitions are really strong.
