I called and messaged Genie several times but got no response. Fish were upset, but we agreed to stay quiet until we returned home. I wasn’t going to stay at Uncle’s place for the weekend. I felt taken advantage of. He had played a dirty trick on me and now I couldn’t bear to look at him even though I seethed.
Post lunch, there was forced small talk and prolonged silences. Beasty and Rajiv took jibes at me, but I had lost interest in retaliating. Some jibes later, I saw Baby Uncle glare at Beasty who then kept her mouth shut. I couldn’t believe my lamb of an uncle could quell his grizzly bear wife with a look. I had to get to know Baby Uncle better.
Listening to the murmurs, I learned more scary relatives would be turning up for dinner.
Danny and his parents were staying as they were related to close relations – a ‘thing’ among Syrian Christians. We had to be close to in laws and their in laws and everyone in between and on the periphery – the more family, the merrier.
My cousin Rita finally turned up and seemed oblivious to the awkwardness. She did, however, ask me about Genie.
"Your dad chased him away," I said into the sudden silence.
An evil squawk sounded and Beasty bristled, "He had no business being here!"
"So why did Uncle invite him... and to stay... especially when he knew Danny was here and none of you approved of Genie's presence!" I felt a hand grab the back of my neck and squeeze. I glared at Roma.
"Joy would do no such thing!" Beasty burst out.
"Clearly you don't know Joy Uncle very well."
"Stop being rude to your aunt!" Joy Uncle burst out.
"Which one?" I said after a pause. I heard a laugh, and saw Danny smile. Anjali gave me a thumbs up. I wasn't keen to let Uncle get away with anything... today.
"All of them!" Uncle roared.
"Strange. I'm not being rude to any of them. Just stating facts. Don't know why you're taking it the wrong way."
"Silence!"
"Er, I don't know. Kind of difficult to do in the current scenario."
"QUIET!"
I laughed. And then stopped myself. Shit, what was I doing. I felt Roma trying to haul me off my chair. Anjali jumped towards me and angrily pulled Roma's hands off my collar.
"Stop that, Roma! She's right. Why invite us if you're going to ambush us. This could have been handled more privately, but it seems to be happening with some regularity. Like the Lonavala trip – did you have to get Genie there and insult him? He was going to get to know about Danny eventually... or anyone else you cared to pull out of your wig. Did you think he wouldn't make himself scarce if he knew? Or are you afraid he's going to make off with her heart. Why would you care? You guys stopped caring a long time ago, and you've barely made an effort to keep her close since Uncle and Aunty died."
There was pin drop silence. I grabbed Anjali. Everything she'd said was what I thought all the time. I hadn't shared it with her because Roma was our best friend. I shook my head. Please, please, Anjali. Don't say anymore.
"I have always been there for my niece," Uncle said defensively. "She has stayed away, disobeyed me... been very difficult. Never takes my advice."
"Is that why you invited Genie and me too. So we could be embarrassed in the process?"
"That's my dad you're talking to!" Roma said angrily.
Anjali turned around. "I know, Roma. You could have warned us, but you didn't. Why didn't you?"
Roma opened her mouth and closed it. She shifted her angry gaze at me. I turned away.
When the silence extended painfully, I felt Elsa Aunty touch my shoulder. "Mol, I need your help in the kitchen."
We worked silently, organising things for dinner. Elsa Aunty's calls to her daughter Rita fell on deaf ears and Roma fumed, her body stiff and angry.
My aunt took the container of flour from Roma's hands and put it in mine. My mood lifted slightly. At least in cooking, Aunty trusted me. When Roma left the kitchen, Elsa Aunty murmured, “Don’t take things to heart, mol. Your uncle is just being himself.” Uncle had been an unadulterated jerk. I wanted to scream so at his wife, who knew it but continued to maintain he was misunderstood.
After so many years, I still couldn’t figure out I was being manipulated. I trusted too much. I hated that Uncle had dragged Genie into the mess. I had found the invitation to stay at Uncle's home suspicious, but had thought my relatives were having a gradual change of heart towards my parents’ former man Friday. Genie was now my friend – a friend who had been living with me for about a year. I had derived comfort from his presence, but my relatives thought we were living in sin.
I dreaded to think they had chased Genie away for good. I glared at Roma. She was one of my best friends, but she was also her daddy’s
stooge. Invective ricocheted in the recesses of my
skull – contained only by the feeling that letting loose would get me into more
trouble.
I glared at Aunty, who seemed unnerved by my silent
aggression. I turned away and started mixing the batter.
******
This is a fictional series about the Suriani*, Mumbai-based narrator. She realises she has been manipulated and embarrassed by her uncle at a family gathering.
Despite spending much of the afternoon feeling sorry for herself, she finds a way to strike back.
******
I sliced the ripe
plantain, ground the cinnamon and nutmeg, mixed the sugar into the batter and let
my hands swim in the batter, wiggling my fingers. I usually used a spoon for this,
but now I felt like annoying everyone as much as I could.From the corner of my eyes I saw a look of disgust cross my gentle aunt's face. She opened her mouth to say something but sighed and left the kitchen.
Roma hated cooking, bogged down by her responsibilities and her disinterest in household chores. I had wanted to do a Cordon Bleu course. When I did have the courage to tell my parents, they had been agreeable. Only the thought of me going far away for some years had bothered them. They had spoken to Uncle about it and he had laughed. He had trashed my plans, pooh-poohed my ambitions and quickly painted lurid pictures of me being loose in Paris and doing a can-can at the Cirque de Soleil. If my parents had thought logically, they'd have realised their 'pumpkin princess' would never have made it even through the auditions because she was of average Indian height – she'd have qualified as a midget in France – and chubby. Several weeks later, my Uncle began to bombard my parents with marriage proposals for me. Months later, I was married at barely 23.
My marriage wasn't the only thing I had lost. In those distressing years, my parents had fallen ill and died much before their prime. Sometimes I resented my cousins for having 'live' doting parents, and I resented Uncle for my feelings of loneliness and the sense of being adrift.
Anjali had told me to get over it – that there was nothing I could do to change things. “Look at it this way. You’re free now. They have no hold over you. They only did when your parents were alive. If you switch off your phone and ignore Uncle, you can go ahead and do what you want.”
A valid point. Though I was very scared to do so initially, I sometimes didn't pick up my uncle’s calls – caller id had to be the best part about modern technology. It annoyed my uncle and I felt better. I was skirting his authority and fingering him in some indefinable way. Sometimes Uncle bested me – he used Aunty or Roma's phone.
I fried a batch of etheka (plantain) appams* and called Aditya. My five-year old nephew immediately tried to pick up a fried plantain but it was too hot. “I will give you another plate, my darling. First serve these... only,” I held his chin to get his attention, “only to Betsy Aunty, Rajiv Uncle and Appachan*? Not to Baby Uncle and the others. OK, sweetie?”
Aditya looked at me thoughtfully. Then nodded. I quickly fried the next batch and waited. A while later, Aditya came back with the empty plate. I arranged several smaller etheka appams on the plate and sent him back. “Serve these to the rest of the guests, but not to Betsy, Rajiv or Appachan. OK?”
Aditya looked confused, but nodded. I smiled to myself. After all the plantain had been fried, and served, I washed my hands and joined my cousins in the sitting room. Uncle, Rajiv and Beasty eyed me coldly. The others were still chewing and looked happy.
Anjali sat beside me, splitting the last etheka appam with Aditya. “Why are the three pricks giving you the stink eye?” she said, nonchalantly returning their stare.
“Their ethekas were special.”
“Oh?”
“Sugar-free ethekas.”
I felt Anjali turn to me, “Mine were sweet.”
I smiled at the three beasts. “I know.”
“So?”
I leaned closer and murmured into her ear, “I coated unripe plantain with plain flour and gave it a slight fry.”
“Isn’t that inedible… like next to horrible?”
“Yes.”
Anjali choked on her sweet fried plantain, laughing, and crying. She wagged her index finger at me and then quickly curled it back into her fist. She put her arm around my neck and said, “You’re an idiot. The three of them are going to get even.”
“They’ll spend all of dinner on tenterhooks, wondering if I served them shit.”
Anjali sank her face into my neck and guffawed. After she had attracted everyone’s attention, I gave her my handkerchief to wipe away the tears.
I decided to stay for dinner. I was going to have fun feeding the three goats.
But before dinner, I had to get in touch with Genie.
******
Appachan (in Malayalam) – Grandfather
Etheka appam – a sweet fried plantain dish popular in Kerala, South India
Suriani – Syrian Christians from Kerala
PS - Since I'm sitting it out at home, these Chronicles will be belted out faster. Stay tuned.
No comments:
Post a Comment