Fishy Chronicles 46: Appams And A Lot More

“What are those?” Genie asked.

“Place card holders. I found these in one of Uncle Nigel’s boxes. I wondered if I’d ever have a chance to use them, but now I think they’d look classy on this table.”

“Why now… exactly?”

“Oh, I can’t remember when such a large group came over.”

“I remember many occasions… with Papa and Mummy and all your friends.”

I nodded. Now it was like walking a barren land. My friends were in different places, with young families and no time. My office friends had slowly stopped calling. I was now a statistic of the forlorn.

I felt Genie lean into me. “You should stop thinking. Period.”

I wrote out the names on little cards and stuck them on their stands. Six were tall, brown hills with conical tips, flanked by smaller, round hills. There was a slit on the top of the tallest peak for the cards to sit in place. The short hills were covered in dark brown grass. I suspect the place card holders were custom made. The designs were at once creative and extremely fruity. There were a couple of other holders designed as men and women playing or picking flowers in tall grass. Genie took up the three different place card holders, there were 18 in all, and looked at them carefully. He slowly turned them about and then put them back on the table. How lucky was I to have these. I’d found them in a large filigree box in an old trunk, but had never thought of using them. Until now.

I had a sudden thought. “I haven’t looked at most of those boxes in the loft, Genie. Would you help me go through them? I feel overwhelmed whenever I take a look.”

“Sure, we can look at the boxes together.”

                                                        ******

This is a fictional series about a 30-something Mumbai woman, her former pet fish and her parents former man servant Genie. Fish and Genie have returned from their travels to spend time with the narrator. 

The narrator's friends and family arrive for lunch. She attempts to pay back Genie for inviting Zeba, but karma intervenes with a resounding karate chop.

                                                        ******

“You haven’t put out the place cards,” Genie reminded me when most of the guests had arrived. 

I was surprised to see Arief. He looked at me in shock, “Jeez, what happened to you!”

He touched my eye, which was now open but still black (read about it here). There were other bruises on my face and I had asked my cousin Roma to prepare her children for it. Aditya, my little nephew, had cried until I assured him and his brother Aarav that though my bruises still hurt, my wounds were healing fast. They hadn’t seemed convinced, but felt a little better when Genie pulled up his shirt and showed the boys the bruises on his midriff and arms. Their father Georgy was almost pop-eyed at the display of naked, hard, toned flesh and stood in front of Roma to protect her from the view. Genie gave Roma a winsome grin and winked at her, pulling down his shirt very slowly. Georgy’s arms rose higher involuntarily. 

“The bust up at the bank. Didn’t you see it?” I told Arief.

Arief looked shamefaced. “Sorry, I left as soon as the mob turned violent. I didn’t think you’d get hurt… you were with Genie…”

I opened my mouth to say something, but what was the point. I’d always think of him as the guy who ran when the going got tough. No point crucifying him for it. None of the churchwallas had hung around to see if we were fine. They now avoided me on the street, acting as though they didn’t see me.

“It was reported in the news,” Arief said.

“Er, what was?”

“Police turned up and arrested some of the people and the guy who drove his car into the bank.”

“Yes, it was crazy. Genie and I were arrested and marched into a police van…” I straightened the table cloth.

Arief caught my hand. “What?”

“Yes. Well, I climbed into the van and then was ordered out,” I lied.

Arief looked shocked. “And then?”

“Then Genie’s connection – a sub inspector – let us go. He ordered us to visit the police station for questioning.”

“Oh!”

I moved around some of the cutlery – a housewarming gift from my father’s cousin. My mother used them every time there were large family gatherings or virinde chor*. Even in the age of Google, I hadn’t researched the different forks.

I felt a nudge, Arief was talking to me. “So, what happened at the police station?”

“Eh? Police station?”

“Yes. At questioning?”

“Oh. No one called us. I don’t know if we’ll be summoned. SI Jeevan seemed to be good friends with Genie.”

“Oh!”

I could see Arief opening his mouth to ask more questions. “Can you get that big brass vessel, please? The one on the kitchen platform.” Arief hesitated. “Quick!”

He moved into the kitchen and struggled with the big brass urali (traditional urn). I hid a smile. Usually, Genie and I lifted and moved it about together. Today it was half filled with fragrant jasmine and roses. I pointed at the marble window seat. “Set it over there.”

I watched Arief struggle and felt guilt strike. I went up to him quickly and helped him carry it. We placed it in the middle of the seat and I filled it with water and admired my handiwork.

The next guest was Zeba, our next door neighbour, who clasped Genie tightly and tried to kiss him on the mouth but got his jaw instead. I am not sure who was more pleased, Zeba or the group watching, which included Aunty Glory and Uncle John. They were beaming.

Ashok and Eva came in soon after with Nidhi. They brought with them a bottle of Australian wine, which I considered forward for Syrian Christians. 

I looked at my makeshift dining table. I was able to extend it with the help of another table whose sides could be unfolded. I had borrowed Aunty Glory’s chairs and now my beautiful light lemon yellow table cloth was stretched across both tables and the crockery and cutlery were laid out. From a diffuser in the corner, lemon grass fragrance gently wafted out into the room, making it feel restful. I had fed Fish shrimp earlier in the day and they were sated and lounging about the tank, watching and waiting for action. Last night, I overheard Penaaz tell Fish, “With that crackpot group, tomorrow’s going to be like the Republic Day fireworks going off in our balcony.”

I quickly set the place cards on the table, listening to Zeba lead the conversation. But when there was a sudden lull I turned around. Genie had got up from the marble seat near the window and was murmuring in Aunty Glory’s ear, and was now balanced on the armrest of her chair with his arm around its back. I could see all the women watch Genie carefully and the men look at the women and at Genie. In the chair next to his wife, Uncle John’s eyes twinkled.

I dragged my sight from the group and wondered what was wrong with the holders. They looked odd, at once pleasing but something was off. I turned to look at the group again. Genie smiled broadly and nodded. That was strange too. He had been watching me for a long time. Was he worried I wouldn’t treat Zeba or Nidhi well? Humph.

Roma joined me in the kitchen and we set appa chattis on all four burners and started making the first batch of appams. Roma had told Genie to sit at the dining table and that she and I would serve the guests. When he had refused, Roma told him that Georgy would be upset if Genie stood in the kitchen with us. Genie hadn’t quite believed her, but hadn’t argued more. Genie got the guests to sit and then came into the kitchen. “There seems to be a mistake in the seating arrangements.”

“Really?”

“I’m next to Zeba,” he said. I could hear irritation.

“Okay.”

“Are you playing games with me?”

I whirled around. “Oh! I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Didn’t you tell me a few months ago that she was a beautiful and interesting neighbour and that you were keen to fraternise with the enem… er… her?”  (see story)

Genie’s eyes bore into mine and finally one eyebrow rose. “Really?”

“Really! Be a dear and talk to her. I don’t want her to feel we’re neglecting her. Nidhi can be a dragon.”

“Nidhi’s sitting on my other side... not that you didn’t know, considering you placed the name plates.”

“Oh,” I tried not to smile and turned back to the appa chattis. I removed the appams and poured in the batter. I could feel Genie staring at me. After a while he left.

Roma peeped into the dining room and asked me, “What’s going on?”

I handed her the plate of appams and followed her into the dining room to serve the chicken stew. I worked quietly and quickly and returned to the kitchen without making eye contact.

“I believe you are playing with fire, my dear,” Roma said as soon as she returned.

“I’m at the stove. Playing with fire, for sure.”

Roma pinched my ear hard. “Ouch! Stop that,” I pressed my ear to the side of my head, willing the pain to stop.

“You fooling around with Genie that way isn’t a good idea.”

“What do you mean?”

Roma glared at me. “Genie strikes me as someone who will retaliate.”

I felt fear creep into my being, but shook it off, and stacked four appams on the plate. I peeped into the dining room again. Both Nidhi and Zeba were talking to Genie. Aunty and Uncle hung on to their every word. Arief had tried unsuccessfully to have a conversation with Nidhi, who sat next to him, and darted Genie a few hard looks before turning his attention to Eva, Ashok and Georgy. The latter was forced to feed his children and watch his wife, and his food grew cold on his plate. My eyes moved involuntarily from Genie to Arief and back. Genie was smiling and enjoying the attention. While Arief was handsome, Genie looked rugged – like he wrestled wild bison and chopped large blocks of wood with one hand to keep his home fires burning everyday… and yet took the time to groom himself.

He looked up and our eyes connected. I moved back into the kitchen and wanted to bang my head on the wall. This was tit for tat, I told myself. The day he issued the invite to Zeba (refer to), he had invited this on himself. But why didn’t I feel happy about quid pro quo. And how was he enjoying himself so much with both women?

A few minutes later I heard Georgy talking angrily to Aditya, and his little son wailing, and Aarav trying to explain but being told to shut up. There was an angry exchange between Roma and Georgy and Aditya cried louder.

I rushed into the dining room and Aditya jumped off his chair and held out the place holder. Georgy looked magenta and I picked up Aditya. “What is it, my darling? Why is Daddy angry?”

Aditya took his wet face out of my neck and showed me the place card holder. “I told Daddy it looked a peepee and kokums. But he wouldn’t listen. See…” He pushed the holder into my face and now I understood what had bothered me for so long. Little Adi, being a doctor’s son, had got the anatomy right but the pronunciation wrong. Aarav came towards me and handed me the other place card holder. I almost dropped Aditya in shock. It wasn’t two people looking for flowers, but two men being intimate in the tall grass. I closed my eyes trying to rein in my shock. I dreaded looking closely at the third set.

I opened my eyes and saw Genie’s eyes laughing at me and his mouth in a broad grin. The rest of the group were in deep shock and all of them were looking at their place card holders carefully. I could see looks pass between Arief and Ashok, and Nidhi giving me a dirty look. Judging me!

Georgy burst out. “The filth in your house! It’s amazing you would put that shit on the table.” Shit was a strong word for the ultra-pious Georgy. He raged angrily, until his cousin Ashok told him to pipe down, while trying to keep a straight face. But his wife and my cousin Eva were not so amused.

I felt angry listening to Georgy mouth off his indignation. But I could see Roma ready to burst and I stood between Georgy and her. Uncle, Uncle, Uncle! What a sly, crazy man you are. Were. I love you. I love your crazy gift. I just wish I’d looked at them long enough before I set them on the table. I smiled involuntarily, making Georgy even more angry.

“Shush, son, shush!” Uncle John said. Georgy wanted to rage on but was too taken aback by the gentle remonstration. “Can’t you see she had no idea what it was? Did she willingly want to corrupt your children? Absolutely not! Calm yourself.”

Aunty Glory reached out and plucked the third card holder out of Nidhi’s hand and stared at it. She and Uncle John leaned into each other and started to giggle. Then they started to laugh loudly, rolling about, pummelling the table and crying with the entire effort. Shit, shit and double bloody shit!

My eyes settled on Genie. He was laughing too, as were most of the guests seated. Genie had known all along and yet he had let me place the name plates on the table. And I, in my haste to exact revenge, hadn’t noticed what I was handling. The universe was giving me a royal kick in the rump. I saw the prepubescent, but precocious, Aarav explaining to Aditya what the third placeholder was about when Georgy reached out and smacked the older boy across the head.

All hell broke loose. Roma screamed at Georgy and lunged at him. I, standing between Roma and Georgy, crashed into Georgy and we fell onto the table and rolled on the ground. When I was pulled up, Genie was between us, making Georgy and me sit and ordering us both not to get up. I glared at Georgy for making Aarav cry. His mother was holding him, but he was stiff, with silent tears rolling down his face. Next to him Aditya wailed bitterly. Genie picked him up and grabbed Aarav by the hand and pulled him along.

“Not my sons, you don’t!” Georgy shouted.

“Sit down!” Ashok roared.

Georgy jumped up and ran into the bedroom. He stared at the scene in disbelief. I was right behind him. Genie was wiping away Aarav’s tears and handing Aditya tissues to wipe his face. All through he murmured, but Aarav stayed sullen.

Georgy opened his mouth to shout, but Aunty Glory said, “Please keep quiet, Georgy. You could have just explained things to the boy – the birds and the bees in advance. What makes you think Aarav doesn’t know what those card holders are about anyway?”

Georgy turned on me. “It’s all your fault, putting little sculptures of private parts on the dining table. Corrupting my children!” 

“Stop it, Georgy, that sounds gross,” his cousin Nidhi smirked at me, enjoying my discomfort.

“I wondered where I saw them… at Mr Poonawalla’s!” Arief grinned at me.

“It’s called erotic art. Can find its way into everyday ordinary household articles,” I tried to justify, involuntarily thinking of how Roma, my best friend Anjali and I had sniggered over household articles that were made in the shapes of fornicating couples at the Kelkar Museum in Pune and later in a market on a trip to Jaisalmer. 

I went to Aarav and hugged him. I rubbed his hands and kissed them. “My darling, people are obsessed with sex and it is a natural thing between people. Those place card holders are erotic art. Some people love them and can fill their homes with them.” I heard an angry Georgy being ordered to shut up. I sighed and pushed Aarav’s hair off his forehead, “Maybe not the ideal thing to put out on the dining table at a gathering with children.”

“Genie Uncle said they were a gift to you… from  Nigel Uncle. Is it true?”

“Er, yes. They are mine now.” I wondered what else I’d find in my loft.

“We really should have a proper look at those bits of art, shouldn’t we, John?” Aunty said.

“Yes, my dear.” There was an instant rush to the dining table.

Roma held out her arms to her sons and they went to her. She shielded them from their father, who was still angry. I went back to the dining room to find everyone examining their name holders. Some were staring at them in disbelief, others were sniggering. I could see grudging respect from Zeba, which stumped me. She smiled and nodded.

“It’s quite beautiful... in an aesthetic way,” she smiled fulsomely at Georgy. His eyes slid from her smile to her cleavage and he looked up to see Roma looking at him without expression.

I listened to the buzz around me.

“Do you think this is in someone’s likeness, Glory?”

“Something’s likeness, you mean.”

“Put these away right now!”

“Shhh, Georgy! You’re killing everyone’s fun!”

“So what!”

“… definitely hippy era…”

“How can you tell?”

“Maybe there’s some information on the bottom.”

“His or her bottom?” 

Roma said to me, “You said these were in the boxes Uncle Nigel gave you, right?”

“Er, right.”

“May I look through them with you?”

“Roma, you have children!” Georgy burst out.

"Apparently. May I help you sift through the boxes, baby?" Roma was at her most appealing.

“Is it okay if I join too?” Uncle John asked.

“Er, can we come too, Aunty?” Both children were on their feet, looking at me eagerly.

“No,” I said.

“Why not?” Nidhi asked.

“They’re gifts from Uncle. I don’t want people laughing at them. He gave me his art and things close to his heart. I hope it is because he thought I was evolved. I can’t stand the idea of him being the butt of someone’s jokes. So, I respectfully decline all offers of help to go through his boxes.”

There was a long silence, until Uncle John broke it. He stood up and put his hands on my shoulders. “Of course, my dear. You are right. It’s not appropriate for us to go through Nigel’s things. Glory and I were charmed by Nigel and thought very highly of him. Are we offended by the card holders? Of course not! He’s made an otherwise dull day come alive.”

Uncle kissed my forehead. I knew Uncle John and Aunty Glory had known what the holders were as they had made a beeline for the dining table as soon as they came in. The erotica that had masqueraded as place card holders had been the icing on the cake for them. 

Bless you, Uncle Nigel. You livened up this lunch, and now I’m not going to feel bad opening all those boxes in the loft. 
                                                                    

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* Virinde Chor - Traditional meal offered to newly weds by close family.