Warding off the Death Eaters

Some time by the end of May, a vice like tightness grips my chest. Harry Potter may well have felt something similar once the Quidditch tournament was done with. By the end of the third year in Hogwarts, he would have recognized a pattern; the end of a fun school year brings a confrontation with Voldemort that cannot be warded off any longer.

But still, I postpone the inevitable. By the beginning of July, the dread escalates and  I can feel the dementors circling around, sucking out all my happiness, ready to give me the kiss of death.

Reluctantly, with ankles feeling like weights were strapped to them, I drag my feet to the task at hand.

Filing my income tax returns in the good ol’ days was a breeze. I had a compliant chartered accountant who never troubled me over bills or the lack of them. My credit card statements were always missing and once my C.A’s flunkies realized that I didn't have interest or knowledge, they didn't even bother balancing my statement. But all good things inevitably come to an end, I married a Maru. For the uninitiated, ‘Maru’ is a term used to refer to anyone from the extremely successful Indian trading community, the Marwaris.

Most Indians know the self evident truth that no self respecting Marwari woman can endure the humiliation of bearing a child who doesn't understand finance.

In the Mahabharata, Lord Krishna visited his sister Subhadra when she was pregnant with Abhimanyu. He found Arjuna in a deep discussion with his wife Subhadra, explaining to her, the strategy required to beat the Chakravyuha. The Chakravyuha was a brilliant warfare strategy devised by the great Dronacharya. In essence, it was a concentric spiral formation of warriors, like a wheel or a ‘chakra’ with the weaker warriors at the periphery and the strongest concentrated closer to the centre. The minute a warrior killed someone in the formation, the adjacent soldier would slide into his position, from the centre flowing outwards,effectively keeping the formation going like a continuously pulsating giant worm.

In the absence of Arjuna, Abhimanyu’s  father and the only Pandava who knew how to enter and exit the Chakravyuha, the remaining Pandavas requested Abhimanyu, who had learnt the secret in utero, to lead them. The only fly in the ointment was that  Krishna took Arjuna away before he could tell Subhadra how to escape the Chakravyuha. The reason for that is beyond the scope of this particular discussion.

The plan was for the Pandavas to follow him while he penetrated it, so that they could aid him in escaping. But obviously they were not as skilled in warfare and the formation closed on them as soon as Abhimanyu managed to penetrate it. The possible theory of how Abhimanyu might have penetrated is that he probably killed the soldier to the left and right of the person directly in front of him, automatically the person in front of him would slide to the adjacent position and the position adjacent to his former position would be occupied by the person two steps behind him. So now the position in front of Abhimanyu would be vacant and he could enter.

You think what I just explained is complicated? Try finance, it's far harder.

Knowing this, Marwari women pick up financial papers in the early stages of pregnancy usually starting with simple stuff like the Economic Times and graduating to complex financial reports. They also obsess over the market index and watch the commodities market closely. Is it any wonder then, that Maru kids are streets ahead of everyone in matters relating to finance?

Imagine my better half's dismay on encountering my deplorable lack of financial savvy. He was horrified that I wouldn't file my statements or verify my credit card statements against the slips.

Several stern admonishments later, he proceeded to patiently explain the process of maintaining an accounts ledger. I resolved to be more organized and systematic. But I keep falling off the wagon. By the end of May, I start dreading the task up ahead and by July I'm practically hyperventilating.

My kids will probably bear the curse of my non Marwari-ness. I remember an incident involving my older child, then aged about three, who had to be cajoled into eating his raita, a yoghurt based accompaniment to food. I had promised to give him one rupee if he ate it but he was adamant and refused. A month later we were visiting Goa and saw a beautiful mansion perched on a cliff by the sea; it appeared to be straight out of a Bond movie. My husband asked him, “Do you think you will ever earn enough to be able to afford it? I'd love to live there”.

“Don't worry Pappa,” said my son affectionately, “I will eat enough raita so we can buy this.”

Obviously my son has inherited my financial acumen.