What I learnt about love from Mom & Dad

And it wasn’t to upload lovey-dovey pictures on Facebook and tag the other

I don’t have a dressing table at home, but remember, as a little girl, watching my mother getting ready before one, for an official engagement or an evening out. I remember all the lovely feminine rituals, little pots and jars of creams and lotions that sat on pretty, muslin doilies with scalloped edges.
A low seat in front of the table with three mirrors making an admiring semicircle, and a metallic lamp clamped on to the top to bathe the space in an intimate circle of light. It didn’t take long, a quick application of coral lipstick, a last pin for the updo, and she was almost done. The last action was the spraying on of an exquisite perfume, the one that I associate her, and my childhood with. Chanel No 5.
The bottle of perfume didn’t always sit on the table — it would be carefully placed in its monochrome carton, with the small logo of the interlocked ‘C’s and go back to its usual home in the fridge. I didn’t realise at the time, but variations in temperature are not very kind to make-up, unguents and perfume!
What I did notice, however, was that there always was a bottle of that particular brand of perfume. Before one bottle was finished, another one would magically appear.
I think this was the only concession to grandeur in the family. In all other respects we were like other middle class families. The kids’ (that’s my brother and I) clothes wore out before they were replaced. We got new ones on a festival like Diwali, perhaps.
My father was an Army officer. While the armed forces in the subcontinent are among the most professional armies in the world, it’s no secret that what they received as salaries in those days was not quite generous. It must have been a stretch, to afford the little mark of affection.
Our roots are in the Punjab, so yes, there was an assortment of cousins and chachas (uncles) from the UK and Canada who filtered through our home on their way into the country or while flying out. The odd cousin was prevailed upon to bring back a bottle of the precious perfume that Dad would pay for.
But more than all that, what an amazingly romantic gesture, to always have a bottle of the world’s best perfume for your wife. My mother, on her part, would use the perfume sparingly. I don’t think anyone in the world would have enjoyed the rich notes of that gorgeous perfume more than my mother. It was a gift in the realm of the grand gesture and it was gracefully and elegantly received.
Now top that.
Many years ago, my husband gifted me the same perfume as a salute for shifting and setting up house in a new country while he was away on assignment. I didn’t celebrate the perfume as much. Turns out, I’m more of a Coco kind of girl. And that’s what my husband needs to get for me on Valentine’s Day. Are you listening, honey?
harveena@khaleejtimes.com