She is not your mother. She has no obligation to love you. And yet, she will arrive unannounced, call you a fool to your face, compare you unfavorably to her own son who is “just a bank manager, nothing special, but at least he owns a tiffin box ,” and then proceed to clean your entire existence.
It had begun. For the next three hours, Bayotata performed what can only be described as a surgical strike on Ramesh’s existence. She didn’t yell. She didn’t scold. She simply observed . bayotata
He ate. It was the best meal he’d had in months. She is not your mother
But then, just as Ramesh was about to combust from shame, she pulled out a thali from her bag. Inside were gundruk , mula ko achar , and dhedo she had made that morning. It had begun
Ramesh laughed. Then he called his mother.
“Yes.”
“Aama,” he said. “Bayotata came.”