“What's happening to your Amritsar plan?” Genie opened the lid of the big pot and drew the aroma deep into his lungs. I could see his mouth water.
“If you wait 15 minutes, you can have the chicken stew with bread,” I told him.
“Trying to change the subject?” he said, putting the lid back on the pot.
“What subject?”
“Your trip to Amritsar."
I shrugged and shook my head.
“Do you know, you're not a good liar.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Okay. Let me put this in perspective for you. A few weeks ago Roma told me your tickets to Amritsar were booked, including hotel stay. This was before the bank collapsed. Yesterday she asked me if you were all packed.”
“Couldn't she have asked me?” I felt angry at my cousin Roma. I had fobbed her off a couple of times regarding my finances, my trip, etc. I felt I had to face up to everything on my own. Plus, I didn't want to hear sanctimonious lectures from my relatives.
“Do you remember giving Roma a straight answer?” Genie asked. I turned away and sliced some Madras onions for the final seasoning. Roma and Genie tackling me together seemed like an onslaught. Whose side were they on?
Genie nudged me and continued to do so until I was pinned to a wall. “Pushing me about is not going to work, Genie. It really is none of your business.”
“Aha! So Roma was right. There is an Amritsar trip all planned and paid for. So why aren't you going?”
“Ask Roma!”
“I'm asking you!”
“I don't have the money now.”
“I'll lend it to you.”
“You've done enough. Besides, how long will you subsidise me? Do you know that some of the money in the bank was your back wages that I'd consolidated and put into a fixed deposit. How many times have I tried to give it to you!” I felt my temper rise. I felt sudden panic. What if Genie asked me for the money.
He put his arm around my shoulders, “Once and for all, I am not going to take that money.”
“Why not?”
“I never asked for a salary.”
“But Papa said he paid you!”
“We had an arrangement.”
“Sorry. I don't buy that.”
“Well, it has nothing to do with you.”
I pushed Genie, but nothing happened. I felt pain in my side, a combination of my bruises resulting from our ill-fated day at the bank (read about it here) and being pressed into the wall now. “Can you stop pushing me? My body is aching.”
I felt him laugh and glared at him. He smiled, “When is your trip, my dear?”
“Why?”
“I'll lend you the money... only because you will gain nothing out of backing out of the trip. You might as well go and enjoy yourself.”
True. I wasn't going to get a refund. And I had to get used to the idea that the world hadn't stopped moving and that I had to move on. My parents had lost money this way and history had repeated itself despite me knowing better.
But the other thing was I needed to stretch the little I had and didn’t want to borrow until I had no choice.
“If you feel badly about it,” Genie's voice interrupted my thoughts, “you can pay me back.”
“I don't have money, remember.”
“It's a temporary situation. You'll get a job eventually. No point wasting an opportunity to travel.”
“Yes, but what if I don't get a job or my money...”
“Silly girl! How did you become so pessimistic. It's a setback – one of many. It’s only a matter of time before it will stop affecting you.”
I knew that was true. Hard times don't last, Papa had said even when things were bleak.
Genie looked into the vessel again. “Shall I make you a few appams... before the guests arrive, Genie?” He contemplated the contents. Genie and I always waited till our guests had eaten until we had our meal, so I said, “Just a couple so that it keeps you till the guests finish eating.”
He shook his head, slowly – a rare moment of indecision for Genie. I immediately put two appa chattis on the stove to heat.
“No,” Genie said, feebly.
“Why stay hungry.”
“But we should wait till the others have eaten... what if we fall short?”
“Hah!” I had made enough batter for 14 people times ten appams and some more in case there were surprises. One could never tell when appams and stew were on the menu... as I had cause to experience.
I rolled the batter gently around the sides of the chatti and Genie took out his plate and had another sniff of the chicken stew.
“If you wait 15 minutes, you can have the chicken stew with bread,” I told him.
“Trying to change the subject?” he said, putting the lid back on the pot.
“What subject?”
“Your trip to Amritsar."
I shrugged and shook my head.
“Do you know, you're not a good liar.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Okay. Let me put this in perspective for you. A few weeks ago Roma told me your tickets to Amritsar were booked, including hotel stay. This was before the bank collapsed. Yesterday she asked me if you were all packed.”
“Couldn't she have asked me?” I felt angry at my cousin Roma. I had fobbed her off a couple of times regarding my finances, my trip, etc. I felt I had to face up to everything on my own. Plus, I didn't want to hear sanctimonious lectures from my relatives.
“Do you remember giving Roma a straight answer?” Genie asked. I turned away and sliced some Madras onions for the final seasoning. Roma and Genie tackling me together seemed like an onslaught. Whose side were they on?
This is a fictional series about the narrator, her former pet Fish and former manservant Genie. The narrator is preparing lunch for her Lonavala group (refer to FC 27 and FC 36) and Genie advises her to continue with her sabbatical and travel plans despite her current personal setbacks.
Genie nudged me and continued to do so until I was pinned to a wall. “Pushing me about is not going to work, Genie. It really is none of your business.”
“Aha! So Roma was right. There is an Amritsar trip all planned and paid for. So why aren't you going?”
“Ask Roma!”
“I'm asking you!”
“I don't have the money now.”
“I'll lend it to you.”
“You've done enough. Besides, how long will you subsidise me? Do you know that some of the money in the bank was your back wages that I'd consolidated and put into a fixed deposit. How many times have I tried to give it to you!” I felt my temper rise. I felt sudden panic. What if Genie asked me for the money.
He put his arm around my shoulders, “Once and for all, I am not going to take that money.”
“Why not?”
“I never asked for a salary.”
“But Papa said he paid you!”
“We had an arrangement.”
“Sorry. I don't buy that.”
“Well, it has nothing to do with you.”
I pushed Genie, but nothing happened. I felt pain in my side, a combination of my bruises resulting from our ill-fated day at the bank (read about it here) and being pressed into the wall now. “Can you stop pushing me? My body is aching.”
I felt him laugh and glared at him. He smiled, “When is your trip, my dear?”
“Why?”
“I'll lend you the money... only because you will gain nothing out of backing out of the trip. You might as well go and enjoy yourself.”
True. I wasn't going to get a refund. And I had to get used to the idea that the world hadn't stopped moving and that I had to move on. My parents had lost money this way and history had repeated itself despite me knowing better.
But the other thing was I needed to stretch the little I had and didn’t want to borrow until I had no choice.
“If you feel badly about it,” Genie's voice interrupted my thoughts, “you can pay me back.”
“I don't have money, remember.”
“It's a temporary situation. You'll get a job eventually. No point wasting an opportunity to travel.”
“Yes, but what if I don't get a job or my money...”
“Silly girl! How did you become so pessimistic. It's a setback – one of many. It’s only a matter of time before it will stop affecting you.”
I knew that was true. Hard times don't last, Papa had said even when things were bleak.
Genie looked into the vessel again. “Shall I make you a few appams... before the guests arrive, Genie?” He contemplated the contents. Genie and I always waited till our guests had eaten until we had our meal, so I said, “Just a couple so that it keeps you till the guests finish eating.”
He shook his head, slowly – a rare moment of indecision for Genie. I immediately put two appa chattis on the stove to heat.
“No,” Genie said, feebly.
“Why stay hungry.”
“But we should wait till the others have eaten... what if we fall short?”
“Hah!” I had made enough batter for 14 people times ten appams and some more in case there were surprises. One could never tell when appams and stew were on the menu... as I had cause to experience.
I rolled the batter gently around the sides of the chatti and Genie took out his plate and had another sniff of the chicken stew.
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