#juggernautcontest ; #mominme #hangry Here's my entry for the contest :)


Title: Will She Ever Get In?
I see her through the crack of the wardrobe door. She begins her day by cursing the alarm. "Damn you! I was dreaming of David Beckham and now you're reminding me to make breakfast?"

Seven snooze buttons later, Tara woke up with a start. She was late again. She ran to the kitchen and whipped up some porridge for the kids (with applesauce, no sugar).

Then she packed sandwiches in their lunchboxes (thank God for pre-made chutney) and went to get her sleeping monsters ready.


The children were dragged out of bed, pulled through the brushing, bath, change and finally seated at the breakfast table. Tara's tummy gave a tiny rumble of hunger.

"This porridge tastes like mud, we want sugar!" The kids yelled.

"No sugar, eat healthy!" She yelled back, trying to shove the gloopy mass into their clamped mouths. "Sugarrrrr!" They yelled louder, so sugar was summoned. Just few spoons later, the bus arrived.


With the kids packed off, Tara thought she would have time for her green tea but, she was mistaken. First there was the dhobi, then the maid, then the neighbour, then the husband's breakfast and lunch to be dealt with. I could hear her tummy rumble louder in the wardrobe.

"Let me make my egg white omelette now," she mumbled, when....

Ting tong! "Madam, we are from the bank, you have five minutes?" "Sure," she said.; The stomach protested again.

Five minutes became twenty. The bank guys went on about something, but Tara could hardly comprehend their words.

Her eyes filled with tears and images of vada pav filled her head. She wanted to ask her unwanted visitors if they had nothing better to do but resisted.

The maid butted in, "Didi, I won't come to work tomorrow, sister's husband's cousin's son marriage."

"Go, go for the entire world's marriage," Tara muttered, now nursing a headache. The maid didn't hear her but I did. "Easy now, Tara," I whispered.

Ping! WhatsApp text from the husband.; "Baby, meeting the boys tonight for beer, will be late!"

I could smell the smoke from Tara's ears as she typed a string of angry emoticons.

"Relax," I wanted to tell her. "Remember, you promised."


Now the protests in Tara's tummy had turned into a revolt. She marched to the kitchen. They were all out of eggs. "No eggs!" She screamed.

"Control, control!" I yelled. But it was too late.

Tara turned hulk and gobbled up two chocolate bars, one jam sandwich and the leftover sugary porridge within seconds. Then, all was quiet.

After a few minutes I could hear her near the wardrobe. She opened it and held me in her arms. Her fingers touched my faded places, the fashionably torn patches and the size 28 label. "I'm sorry," she whispered guiltily. "I'll try again tomorrow, promise. I'll fit into you soon."

And I, her old skinny jeans smiled and sighed again.