As much as I tried, I couldn’t get past that heavy feeling in my gut.
I had made a mess of things.
Even if I had shared a noncommittal relationship with Genie, it was still a relationship. Though I wondered why he did, I felt warmed each time he called or sent a postcard, always with pretty stamps. When I ventured to thank him for them, he said gruffly, “You need your loves and your hobbies. And I was passing by a post office.”
I heard a buzzing sound. I had waited weeks for Norbert – I needed his advice.
I raised myself from the cold, flat, black slab that masqueraded for a window seat and opened the netted window. I lay back down, feeling tired but still sad. I felt embarrassed at what I might have to reveal to Norbert.
Norbert found a spot on the window above me and made himself comfortable.
“Do you know how hard it is for me to stop myself from killing mosquitoes, Nobby?”
“Considering the numerous attempts on my life everyday, I can hazard a guess.”
I sighed and continued to dream. This Christmas I hoped Santa would drop a nice man into my lap, naked and hiding his modesty with a bottle of eggnog. He needed to be kind and love me.
“Those kinds of things are hard to rustle up.”
“What kinds of things, Nobby?”
“A nice, warm, male body with a big heart.”
I sat up straight. I hoped I wasn’t an open book and that Nobby wasn’t turning into Fish.
“Is all well, my dear?” Norbert asked.
“No. I fought with Genie... and Fish.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean? I haven’t got a call from either since...”
“Since your last calls to them. Couldn’t you have called them back?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t try. For sure, Genie won’t want to.”
“Well, I sent word with friends that I wanted him here for Christmas.”
“And?”
“He’s not got back yet. But Fish gave me a earful and told me that it doesn’t matter what’s hidden in your walls.”
“OK.” I tried to damp the irritation I felt at Fish.
“They are going to come here on Christmas week. They have a list. They'll let you know in a few days.”
I sighed, beginning to feel stressed.
The several Christmases they had spent with me – we had been in shambles by New Year's Eve. Their lists had grown wilder each year. And now with their five-star lifestyle, I wondered if I could afford their expensive habits.
One year we had drunk bhang or cannabis for days and things are still a haze.
Another year it was a hookah craze and we had to stop because our chests and coughs wouldn’t clear.
Then they asked me to take them on a cruise. We didn’t go because I was deep in debt. The thought that my poorness had made them leave home has never left me. The sense of rejection is still intense.
“Stop worrying!” Norbert interrupted my thoughts.
“Yeah.”
“Stop it. You are the only one who can stand up to them. Word for word. Scales for skin.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine anyone controlling Fish.
Norbert was still speaking, “Genie told me once that the only reason he stayed for so long is that you hadn’t wanted anything from him – ever. And watching you verbally duel with the Fish cheered him enormously. You never asked him to make you tea – even though he worked for you.”
That was true. I had felt embarrassed I couldn’t pay Genie much and I had never felt comfortable ordering him about. Despite that, he had bought groceries, cooked and calmed my disturbed soul.
Norbert sat on my knee. “How about we have a drink, for old times sakes. For now, you, I and Fish are on for Christmas. We can put together your dining table, wash your good chikankari table cloth and look up cake recipes tonight. Okay?”
“Sure, Nobby. Sounds good. I’ll get the wine.”
I had made a mess of things.
Even if I had shared a noncommittal relationship with Genie, it was still a relationship. Though I wondered why he did, I felt warmed each time he called or sent a postcard, always with pretty stamps. When I ventured to thank him for them, he said gruffly, “You need your loves and your hobbies. And I was passing by a post office.”
I heard a buzzing sound. I had waited weeks for Norbert – I needed his advice.
This is a fictional series surrounding Fish, who previously lived with the narrator, Genie, her erstwhile thug turned manservant and now free soul and world traveller and Nobby, the rum cake-loving mosquito. The narrator is a single woman living in the distant suburbs of Mumbai.
She feels she has burnt her bridges with Genie and is despondent. Nobby turns up to have a chat.
I raised myself from the cold, flat, black slab that masqueraded for a window seat and opened the netted window. I lay back down, feeling tired but still sad. I felt embarrassed at what I might have to reveal to Norbert.
Norbert found a spot on the window above me and made himself comfortable.
“Do you know how hard it is for me to stop myself from killing mosquitoes, Nobby?”
“Considering the numerous attempts on my life everyday, I can hazard a guess.”
I sighed and continued to dream. This Christmas I hoped Santa would drop a nice man into my lap, naked and hiding his modesty with a bottle of eggnog. He needed to be kind and love me.
“Those kinds of things are hard to rustle up.”
“What kinds of things, Nobby?”
“A nice, warm, male body with a big heart.”
I sat up straight. I hoped I wasn’t an open book and that Nobby wasn’t turning into Fish.
“Is all well, my dear?” Norbert asked.
“No. I fought with Genie... and Fish.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean? I haven’t got a call from either since...”
“Since your last calls to them. Couldn’t you have called them back?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t try. For sure, Genie won’t want to.”
“Well, I sent word with friends that I wanted him here for Christmas.”
“And?”
“He’s not got back yet. But Fish gave me a earful and told me that it doesn’t matter what’s hidden in your walls.”
“OK.” I tried to damp the irritation I felt at Fish.
“They are going to come here on Christmas week. They have a list. They'll let you know in a few days.”
I sighed, beginning to feel stressed.
The several Christmases they had spent with me – we had been in shambles by New Year's Eve. Their lists had grown wilder each year. And now with their five-star lifestyle, I wondered if I could afford their expensive habits.
One year we had drunk bhang or cannabis for days and things are still a haze.
Another year it was a hookah craze and we had to stop because our chests and coughs wouldn’t clear.
Then they asked me to take them on a cruise. We didn’t go because I was deep in debt. The thought that my poorness had made them leave home has never left me. The sense of rejection is still intense.
“Stop worrying!” Norbert interrupted my thoughts.
“Yeah.”
“Stop it. You are the only one who can stand up to them. Word for word. Scales for skin.”
I shrugged. I couldn’t imagine anyone controlling Fish.
Norbert was still speaking, “Genie told me once that the only reason he stayed for so long is that you hadn’t wanted anything from him – ever. And watching you verbally duel with the Fish cheered him enormously. You never asked him to make you tea – even though he worked for you.”
That was true. I had felt embarrassed I couldn’t pay Genie much and I had never felt comfortable ordering him about. Despite that, he had bought groceries, cooked and calmed my disturbed soul.
Norbert sat on my knee. “How about we have a drink, for old times sakes. For now, you, I and Fish are on for Christmas. We can put together your dining table, wash your good chikankari table cloth and look up cake recipes tonight. Okay?”
“Sure, Nobby. Sounds good. I’ll get the wine.”
 |
| A calming drink with Nobby. (Picture Credit: A. Peter) |
No comments:
Post a Comment