Acridonna Tea and Displaced Feminism

Certainly! Here’s a candid and humorous take that blends your venting, observations, and a tea-inspired touch into a cohesive narrative:

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Acridonna, Tea, and the Displaced Feminist Rant

As I plopped down next to Aunt Selvi, my indignation practically steaming from my ears, she handed me a comforting cup of tea. With a knowing smile, she patted my hand and said, “Here, here, Acridonna—yes, that’s what the cartoonist Uderzo would have called you—have this tea. It will soothe your ruffled feathers of outrage.”

If only Aunt Selvi’s tea could sort out what I’ve labeled “The Rant of the Displaced Feminist.” But here it is, steeped in a blend of memories and observations.

It began in the third standard. My brother, two grades below me, and I marveled at my mother’s decision to pursue teacher training. Supervised by Aunt Janaki, whose ironclad routine ensured homework and bedtimes were never missed, we were perplexed. “Why doesn’t Janaki Dodda do this course?” we whispered. She seemed far more adept at managing us than Amma. My practical younger brother sagely concluded, “Janaki Dodda already knows how to manage kids; she doesn’t need training.”

Years later, the same sentiment applies to the corporate world. Management, as my brother might quip, is the biggest myth of all. According to Parkinson’s Law, management exists solely to multiply work. And yet, the Ms-Managers, Ms-Leaders, and Ms-Chiefs I’ve encountered are living, breathing proof of what I now call “the art of management gymnastics.”

Take Ms. Fernandez, for instance. With her straight-distinction background and silver tongue, she could transform delegation into an art form. Her colleagues, flattered by her apparent helplessness, would jump to assist. “A distinction student needs my help? I must be truly special!” they’d think, not realizing they were being played. Her sons, unsurprisingly, mastered this skill early on, outsourcing their homework while heading off to more entertaining pursuits.

Then there’s Ms. Kamat, another straight-distinction wonder. Armed with an engineering degree, an MBA from the US, and a PhD from an Indian backyard (yes, that’s a thing), she perfected the act of shooting from someone else’s shoulder. Her arsenal included Fab India suits, blonde-streaked hair, and the uncanny ability to enlist male colleagues for any unpleasant task. By the time she batted her innocent eyes, the offender was apologizing for daring to inconvenience her.

Enter Ms. Reddy, the multitasking marvel. Despite her BBA, MBA, and PhD, she clung to her saris and prehistoric jeans, which only emerged for beach outings. Torn between kids, in-laws, and work, she’d saunter into the office by 11 a.m., ready to leave by 4 p.m., because Sundays were “family day.” The workload? Well, isn’t that what male colleagues are for? Never mind that these men also had toddlers and families. Their wives, after all, weren’t Ms-Leaders. They were the “stupid women” who taught at schools or nursed in hospitals.

Watching these Ms.-Whatever’s over the years, I’ve learned that the hand that rocks the cradle doesn’t necessarily rock the corporate world. It merely drags the age-old mother-in-law-daughter-in-law drama onto a larger stage, complete with performance reviews and office politics.

And let’s not forget their unsolicited advice. Ms. Kamat once tried to “help” me optimize my schedule, offering solutions to imaginary hurdles. I wanted to scream, “Sweetheart, it’s your hurdle, you jump it. I’m just here to watch.”

Now, before anyone accuses me of bitterness, let me clarify. It’s not that I dislike these women; on the contrary, their antics provide endless entertainment. Like a live-action soap opera, they’ve taught me what not to do. If you want my help, just say so. No need for flattery or manipulative schemes.

As Aunt Selvi would say, “A cup of tea is always a good idea,” especially when you’re untangling the absurdities of life. Tea has a way of calming the storm and putting things into perspective. After all, while the Ms-Managers plot their next delegation tactic, the rest of us can sit back, sip, and watch the drama unfold.

So here’s to tea, to candor, and to venting with a dash of humor. Acridonna signing off, with feathers unruffled and a cup well-drained.

By the way Aunt Selvi’s magical brew was Carmel Tea from Teabox.