I jumped out of bed.
I had guests. One tiny insect and a large human. They needed tea.
I walked into the living room and stopped. The floor was hidden by plastic tree branches and boxes of decorations. Nobby was buzzing excitedly around Genie, who was cross-legged on the floor and working quickly.
“Tea?” I asked.
“It's ready. Breakfast too. Made dosas and chutney.”
Genie had already assumed control. When he had left me I had had a tough time getting my housekeeping act together.
I poured out the tea into my mug and sat on an armchair. After a while I slid to the floor and began to put together the branches. Genie pushed twigs and branches towards me. He was organised. He had bunched together the boughs with their branches and carefully taped some of the disintegrating bits together.
Fish had often grumbled about how old and decrepit the tree looked. But when I told them it was over 35 years old and had been in my family home forever and loosened vivid memories of my parents for me, they stopped.
For every year Genie and Fish lived with me, I found a couple of nice, expensive ornaments on my TV stand – wrapped in lovely gift paper. Each of those gifts had been of exquisite glass or crystal and I threw away a number of my plastic Christmas tree ornaments over the years.
Fish and Genie denied the gifts originated from them. But it would be carefully rewrapped and tucked away in a sturdy box and stored in the loft a few days after the new year – all while I was asleep.
It troubled me that I didn’t know who had bought them, or that it should be a secret, but I soon forgot in the excitement.
I looked in the corner of the living room and felt relief. A fish tank had been set up. I had found it too heavy to pull out of the loft. But it was filled with water now. Fish's favourite couch had been set up and the water heater was switched on and their special plants were tethered to the base of the tank.
I looked at Genie. He smiled, “Water's dechlorinated. By the time they get here, the water should be fine.”
I smiled. “Do you ever switch off, Genie?”
“No.”
“Do you ever forget things?”
“No.”
“Do you have family?”
His eyes bored into me, and I felt a frisson of fear. He looked back at the tree and continued to gently put the branches together. “I think we can finish this in an hour. Let’s eat breakfast first.” He rose and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Do you want a happy Christmas, my dear?” Nobby asked. He sat on the rim of my cup and took a sip. Always my cup, never anyone else's.
“Yes.”
“Stop asking Genie personal questions – snowed-out Sweden may beckon.”
******
Fish turned up in a limousine. They had turned up for a stress-free dinner, safely eluding the tedium of putting up Christmas decorations.
The limousine caused a stir in our street and it was an effort to get Fish out. But I saw Genie march to a door, throw it open, grab the tank and walk back into the building.
It stunned the society folks and I could see some of the older women clutch their hearts and the younger ones preen. I scurried back to my flat.
I saw Fish pinching their mouths shut, standing on the edge of the tank and diving in stylishly. Genie tried not to roll his eyes. And then a lovely sight greeted us. Fish jumped out of the water, twisted and turned and slid back into the water.
“When you watch them like this, you can forgive them anything, no, pipsqueak?” Genie murmured, struck by the Fish.
I nodded. We watched them move around the sofa, their books, the plants and then loll and squirm until they found their spots in the tank.
I turned to look at the window – at the darkening evening. Finally it had started feeling like Christmas. I had bought presents too.
The bell rang. I opened the door and found a covered basket on the doorstep.
It moved, or so I thought. And I screamed and backed into Genie. I pointed at it. I dearly hoped someone was giving me a puppy or kitten. I moved behind him.
Genie picked up the card on the hamper. “It’s got your name. Rather, all our names... including all of Fish. Quite a feat.” Another grin. Travel had loosened up Genie like nothing else had.
I felt a poke. “Open it,” Nobby ordered.
I lifted the top cover slowly and stared.
What was going on?
******
I had guests. One tiny insect and a large human. They needed tea.
 |
| Morning chai. (Photo Credit: A. Peter) |
I walked into the living room and stopped. The floor was hidden by plastic tree branches and boxes of decorations. Nobby was buzzing excitedly around Genie, who was cross-legged on the floor and working quickly.
“Tea?” I asked.
“It's ready. Breakfast too. Made dosas and chutney.”
Genie had already assumed control. When he had left me I had had a tough time getting my housekeeping act together.
This is a fictional series surrounding a group of Fish, Genie, a former manservant turned free soul and world traveller, Norbert, a rum-loving mosquito and the narrator, a single woman, living in a distant suburb of Mumbai.
None of them suspects each is going to goad the other into an adventure.
Genie turns up unexpectedly and proceeds to take over the Christmas preparations.
Fish make a dramatic entry. But the whole group is jolted by the doorbell and what they find on their doorstep.
I poured out the tea into my mug and sat on an armchair. After a while I slid to the floor and began to put together the branches. Genie pushed twigs and branches towards me. He was organised. He had bunched together the boughs with their branches and carefully taped some of the disintegrating bits together.
Fish had often grumbled about how old and decrepit the tree looked. But when I told them it was over 35 years old and had been in my family home forever and loosened vivid memories of my parents for me, they stopped.
For every year Genie and Fish lived with me, I found a couple of nice, expensive ornaments on my TV stand – wrapped in lovely gift paper. Each of those gifts had been of exquisite glass or crystal and I threw away a number of my plastic Christmas tree ornaments over the years.
Fish and Genie denied the gifts originated from them. But it would be carefully rewrapped and tucked away in a sturdy box and stored in the loft a few days after the new year – all while I was asleep.
It troubled me that I didn’t know who had bought them, or that it should be a secret, but I soon forgot in the excitement.
I looked in the corner of the living room and felt relief. A fish tank had been set up. I had found it too heavy to pull out of the loft. But it was filled with water now. Fish's favourite couch had been set up and the water heater was switched on and their special plants were tethered to the base of the tank.
I looked at Genie. He smiled, “Water's dechlorinated. By the time they get here, the water should be fine.”
I smiled. “Do you ever switch off, Genie?”
“No.”
“Do you ever forget things?”
“No.”
“Do you have family?”
His eyes bored into me, and I felt a frisson of fear. He looked back at the tree and continued to gently put the branches together. “I think we can finish this in an hour. Let’s eat breakfast first.” He rose and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Do you want a happy Christmas, my dear?” Nobby asked. He sat on the rim of my cup and took a sip. Always my cup, never anyone else's.
“Yes.”
“Stop asking Genie personal questions – snowed-out Sweden may beckon.”
******
Fish turned up in a limousine. They had turned up for a stress-free dinner, safely eluding the tedium of putting up Christmas decorations.
The limousine caused a stir in our street and it was an effort to get Fish out. But I saw Genie march to a door, throw it open, grab the tank and walk back into the building.
It stunned the society folks and I could see some of the older women clutch their hearts and the younger ones preen. I scurried back to my flat.
I saw Fish pinching their mouths shut, standing on the edge of the tank and diving in stylishly. Genie tried not to roll his eyes. And then a lovely sight greeted us. Fish jumped out of the water, twisted and turned and slid back into the water.
“When you watch them like this, you can forgive them anything, no, pipsqueak?” Genie murmured, struck by the Fish.
I nodded. We watched them move around the sofa, their books, the plants and then loll and squirm until they found their spots in the tank.
I turned to look at the window – at the darkening evening. Finally it had started feeling like Christmas. I had bought presents too.
The bell rang. I opened the door and found a covered basket on the doorstep.
It moved, or so I thought. And I screamed and backed into Genie. I pointed at it. I dearly hoped someone was giving me a puppy or kitten. I moved behind him.
Genie picked up the card on the hamper. “It’s got your name. Rather, all our names... including all of Fish. Quite a feat.” Another grin. Travel had loosened up Genie like nothing else had.
I felt a poke. “Open it,” Nobby ordered.
I lifted the top cover slowly and stared.
What was going on?
******
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