Yesterday afternoon, while picking up the toddler from play school, I met the Elusive Creature that is called the Pashmina Pathan Mom. Oh you can take your Tiger Moms, Yummy Mummy, Soccer Moms, Amazon Mom, pshaw they are not a patch on her.
She is that rare creature who towers over you, hair a sheet of golden rain, sober solitaires aplenty. Oh she is perfumed, the ribbon on her hem matches the tip of her suede shoes, and when she speaks sigh the words are curlicues in sandalwood. She raises a manicured finger and her daughter who I swear has been spun out of sugar and candy floss, her hair well-coiffed honey, comes running towards us. They look towards you and smile beatifically.
hair an angry pony tail
bushy eyebrows waggling over glasses that clearly need to be cleaned one day
mareena suit (think linen, all of you who have never been to a Bara market) that is a hand me down from Kindly Aunt who says Aah but where does Aneela go she can get a year out of it, before we relegate it to duster duty.
army issue thick socks stuffed into scruffy Mary Janes
call out to your kid, and again,and again. Fifteen minutes and after many wails of Dont. Want. To. Go. Home, a bedraggled creature is deposited (well we get the children we deserve eh)
We all stand quietly. Polite silence. Until the toddler decides to add to the mix by going prrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhttt. Announcing
(you know, just in case someone missed out on what it was)
Walk of Shame? Ha, you have nothing on me as I trudge back towards the car.