I left Appachan's (grandfather) study, but the commotion behind me continued. My world felt like it was crashing around my ears (FC83). I felt a deep shame and my skin tingled with humiliation. Plus my legs, where Appachan had beaten me with his stick, stung.
I slowed near the
front door. I could disappear for the rest of the day… but then I’d be a
quitter. I had just told Appachan that running away was for
losers. I turned to the corridor, my thoughts
raging. I heard running feet behind me.
Saruymama, hatred in her eyes and her mouth
stretched back in a snarl, was rushing at me. I backed away, terrified. Too
late. Her hands gripped my arms painfully and shook. My head rocked back and
forth sharply and I tried to push her away.
“Get up! Get up! Appachan will get
annoyed if you miss breakfast! How much can you sleep?” I sat up with a start.
My mother was sitting beside me on the bed, glaring. Her face softened, she felt
my forehead, and then wiped my face with her sari pallu. “If you cover yourself
fully under a thick sheet, you are only going to sweat. Go brush your teeth and
get ready for breakfast.” She got up and left.
I looked around. The sun was bright outside
the window. The fan was spinning at top speed. In the corridor outside my
bedroom, the closed door muffled the sounds of a big household at the start of
its day. I threw the sheet off and rubbed my legs. No pain, no marks.
I thought back. Did
all that happen? I was wearing the same nighty as last night. My head
didn’t hurt. The bruise on my face – I rushed to the dressing table mirror.
Nothing.
I slowly ran my hands
over my legs. It had to have been a dream. It seemed to have been filled with
my darkest fears, and showed my family in the worst possible way – a family of
monsters.
A slap sounded on my
door and it opened. My cousin Sarah’s head appeared. “Not hungry?”
“Y-yes.”
“Going to hide all
day?”
I opened my mouth but
couldn’t figure what to start with. Memories of last night flooded my brain
(FC82).
Sarah thrashing Mobby with a cricket bat. Oh God.
“If anyone asks… you
were sleeping.”
I nodded.
“Even if they demand,
or beat you for it… Understood?”
I nodded again.
“M-Mobby?”
She left.
I jumped off the bed and folded my sheet.
As dreams went it was the mother of all nightmares. I changed, brushed my teeth
and ran to the dining room.
A quick scan of the room. No Mobby. The
Mathans were missing. Appachan was angrily waving at the table and I sat next
to Rita. She put a dosa on my plate and sloshed chutney next to it, some of it
hitting the front of my kurta. I rubbed the spot. The men were discussing
details for Sarah’s wedding (FC80)
– lists and invites, and preliminary arrangements. I looked at the bookshelf in
the study and wondered if Appachan’s stick still lay nestled in its cobwebs. I
had worn a pair of jeans under my kurta, just in case my body met his cane. Roma’s
elbow poked my breast, reminding me of my dosa.
******
The Mathans didn’t leave their room the
whole day, though I saw Sarayumama come out during meals, and at one point
crying near her mother. I stayed out of sight, but within sight, and did my
chores.
Later in the day, while standing near my
guava tree, our neighbour from down the road came through the gate. Dr Lal waved
at me and went into the house. I stayed near the guava tree as it was near the
Mathans’ room. I heard voices, but was too scared to peep through the half
curtain. Romeo skulked near my legs and I picked him up. At that moment,
Sarayumama appeared in the window and her face turned vicious. “Spying on us!
You good for nothing!” She slammed the windows shut. An involuntary laugh
bubbled up because my aunt had to bang the windows together several times as the wood had expanded and wouldn’t close.
I balanced my bum on the narrow ledge below
the Mathan family’s windows. The wall behind my back was cool and though I
could not hear anything, I felt hanging about was a way of showing my aunt my
middle finger.
Some time later the doctor came out and was
near the gate, when he glanced my way and began to walk across the gravel. “Hi,
mol, you’re from Bombay, yes?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Sarayu Aunty said you hit Mobby with a
cricket bat. Is that true?” he said it with a smile.
“No!” I was shocked.
“Do you walk around the house at night?”
“Y-yes. But that doesn’t mean I hit Mobby!”
“No-no. Sometimes the ideas Sarayu Aunty
gets. But did you see anything at night?”
“No-no. I watched a movie and then went to
bed,” I embellished. I felt the kind eyes bore into me. “W-What’s wrong with
Mobby?”
“Someone gave him a good whacking. Looks
like someone strong.”
I shook my head in disbelief. It was just
my luck. Someone else did the crime and I was being blamed for it. “Is-Is he
badly hurt?”
“Not really.”
“Has he been broken?” I said in my stressed
state.
Dr Lal chuckled. He pushed his round
spectacles further up his nose. “Luckily not. But he has some deep bruises. By
the way, which of your family lives in Bangalore?”
“Er, Georgiechyan. Appa’s oldest brother.
Why, Doctor?”
“I’m moving there for work.”
“Oh.”
“Feeling bad I’m going to leave?”
“Of course.” Not quite true, but who cared.
“Which of the kids are Georgiechyan’s?”
“Sarah chechi and Rebecca chechi. She’s
studying in the US.”
His head moved up and down. “Yes, I know
her.” He gave a quick smile. “Okay, got to run. Don’t watch too much TV at
night, and sleep latest by 12.”
“Er, why are you telling me this? Did
someone complain about me?”
“No. It will regularise your sleep pattern,”
he grinned.
I watched the goodlooking doctor walk
away. I should have been happy he spoke to me, but I felt unsettled. Worse, my
cousins were pressed into the bars of the sitting room window, watching.
“Hey, you. What was Dr Lal talking to you about?”
my cousin Shyla asked. She and Nina were watching the doctor drive away.
I shrugged and disappeared around the wall.
There would be too many questions, and I had no answers.
******
In a couple of days, Sarah and I knew we
had been marked.
No one talked to us, including her parents.
And my parents, not publicly.
My mother had it out with me. “You beat
Mobby?” there was disbelief on her face. My father was pacing up and down
our bedroom. I shook my head.
“I understood you using the sling for self
defense (FC72),
but you don’t have to beat up people you don’t like. And Mobby has some bad
injuries.”
“I didn’t hit him!”
“But you know what happened and aren’t
saying! Did Sarah tell you to keep quiet? Or is this some misguided effort at
avoiding punishment. Whether you tell the truth or not, everyone thinks you are
guilty.”
I wanted to protest, but uncannily my
mother had touched on the truth. She had to have some sort of inner vision. I
glanced at my father, who had stopped pacing, but his lips were squeezed
together and jutting out, and a deep frown accompanied the look. I looked at Amma.
“Don’t you realise you have to accept the
consequences of your actions… that you have to think of the effects before they
occur? And beating someone is unacceptable.”
When I didn’t say anything, Amma said,
“Appachan and Ammachi are very angry. I don’t know what your grandfather will
say to you, but he has said a number of hurtful things to Appa.” My head sunk
lower.
“Go and apologise to Mobby. And find a way
to make amends. Don’t let me find you beating anyone again. What is it with
your midnight roaming,” Amma shook me and stopped when Appa cleared his throat.
“You don’t stay awake at night in Bombay. Why are you doing it here?
All the family is talking about it. I get a lecture about you every day from
Sarayu chetathi, ‘she did this, she did that, she has no manners’… do you
think I like hearing this nonsense?”
I had stopped listening at ‘Go and
apologise to Mobby’. Was Amma mad? I didn’t do anything to the ass, but he
got what he deserved! But looking at my raging mother, I felt it best not to
say so. She pinched my arm in frustration and left the room.
I rubbed the tender area and looked at Appa
from the corner of my eyes. He too left the room.
I thought about it a bit. How was I going
to keep out of trouble when it came unbidden, despite my best intentions.
I stayed put in my room until there was
silence in the corridor and I couldn’t hear anyone further away. I slipped out through the front door, closing
it carefully. I had seen Sarah oiling the latch a couple of weeks ago, but had only
made the connection the night I saw her stealing out of the house with a
backpack (FC78, FC79).
I whistled long and
low, feeling the afternoon heat even though I was standing under the guava
tree. Sitting was not an option – the large red ants roamed all over the guava
tree and around it. I had to keep stamping my feet, gently and as noiselessly
as I could, to dislodge them. The day was nice though. A breeze rustled the
leaves of the trees, making them shiver and emit that lovely shushing noise.
Even the birds seemed to stay quiet to listen. No wonder Appa loved this place
so much. There were mangoes in the trees, but unripe. A blue bird swooped into
a tree nearby and I stayed still hoping it wouldn’t fly away quickly. When it
flew away I whistled again for my favourite bird. Romeo, my rooster boy, usually
came running at my call. Maybe he had more tasty bits to eat today. One of my
cousins had started feeding the kitchen’s vegetable waste to the hens. An aunt had remarked to Amma that the eggs had started tasting different and
could it have been the birdfolk’s new diet.
I crept as close to
the back of the house, where the shed was, and whistled for Romeo. I saw my cousins washing clothes and Sonimol chechi, the servant and Mobby’s ‘girlfriend’, collecting firewood. She gave me a dirty look and walked away quickly.
I saw Roma through one of the windows. “Hey, open the front door for me.”
She came close to the
window and opened her mouth to say something, but shook her head and closed it.
I rushed around the house to the front door. She opened the door and moved away
into the kitchen immediately. Odd. I went back to my room. I didn’t understand
it. Ammachi no longer had work for me and I was now sitting in my room most of
the time.
I stayed there until I heard the call for
dinner.
******
I entered the dining
room, and the room turned silent. People looked up and then looked away. My
grandmother and Sarojmama were looking at me coldly, but Sarayumama was sitting
where I normally sat, smiling at me. I felt repulsed, and a little afraid. Most
of the family were looking at each other or looking through me. My grandmother
had made her chicken curry, and the delicious fragrance was all over the room.
But now this room full of people intimidated me. My mother stood with her
sisters in law – her eyes and nose red. She was looking at my father, who was
sitting stony faced at the end of the table. My eyes went to Pilipochyan and it
was blank.
“Sit quickly,” Appachan
said gruffly.
I sat next to Rita and
it was a squeeze because of Sarayumama. We bent our heads in prayer, and Appachan
thanked the Lord for our food. I looked around, wondering why no one was reaching for the food. Even the aunts were standing still and not serving. My
grandfather rectified that when he glared at my grandmother and she started
bustling.
But next to me, my
aunt was ladling the thick dark naadan chicken curry into my plate. I wondered
which chicken they had killed today.
My aunt smiled at me
and put rice and vegetables on the side. She was behaving so strangely.
I looked around. My
grandfather was eating, but casting glances my way. I slowly squeezed some
curry and rice into a ball and was raising it to my mouth when I noticed Rita
staring aghast. “Why aren’t you eating, Rita? What happened, baba?” Rita’s
sudden tears frightened me. I put my left arm around her shoulders, and
whispered, “What happened, why are you crying?” There was no food on her plate.
Nor in Roma’s. Nor in Pilipochyan’s or my father’s. Appa was… in a cold rage.
But Rita wouldn’t stop
crying. And… Roma’s head was down, tears falling into her plate.
“Eat your food, mol,
Ammachi’s curry is excellent,” Sarayumama said from next to me, looking happy.
I nodded and tore a
piece of chicken off its bone when Rita’s hand grabbed mine. “D-d-don’t e-e-eat
ith.”
My aunt grabbed Rita’s
hand and threw it away. “Eat your food now!”
I hesitated, an awful
sense of foreboding creeping into my being. Something was totally off. Why was this hateful woman being nice… now? And why was
everyone quiet. Even Appachan was not eating the curry, and he loved this
particular dish.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Oh-ho. Why?”
Maybe you poisoned my
food. But there was curry in some plates. Why did Mobby look happy. From the
corner of my eyes I could see Sonimol chechi in the dining room, watching. She
never came into this room when we ate.
I pushed my plate
away. “No.” I got up. But instead of shouting at me to sit down and
eat my dinner, my grandfather ignored me and continued to eat. Sarayumama
grabbed my arm and forced me into my chair. I looked at my father, his face was
furious, “Sarayuchechi, let her go. You’ve punished her enough.”
“When she’s eaten the
curry, I’ll forgive her.”
What the hell were
they talking about. Suddenly my aunt was stuffing pieces of chicken and rice
into my mouth.
“No, no, no, chechi,
don’t eat it. they’ve killed Romeo and cooked him. She’s forcing you to eat
him!” Rita screamed in my ear, shoving away Sarayumama’s hand from my mouth.
Killed Romeo and cooked him? My aunt’s fingers were in my mouth, pushing the food
right in, and I bit down as hard as I could to stop her. Someone pounded my
back hard, while Rita and Roma jumped on me trying to push our aunt away.
Sarayumama screamed in pain, punching the side of my head and my shoulders to release her.
When I was sure I was going to vomit because of the blood from her fingers, I
opened my mouth. But her screaming didn’t stop.
All around me was chaos, people shouting, chairs falling backwards. I saw Appa trying to reach me, but Bobby and his father physically holding him back, and them scuffling. I felt none of it, heard none of it, only feeling a growing horror. I tried walking out of the room, but bodies blocked my way. My grandfather had the long stick in his hand, there were no cobwebs on it. He swung it at my legs and I stood still. I heard his sons begging him to stop, but it was Pilipochyan who stood in front of me. The thin long stick hit him once and there was immediate silence. I tried to look around me, at the plates. I wanted to know who was eating my Romeo. Traitors, all of them. Bastards.
I opened my mouth to
tell my grandfather about his precious Mobby and Sonimol chechi’s night-time
rendezvous, but Pilipochyan’s hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me close. “You
cannot take back anything you say… you will always regret saying what you did
in the heat of this moment. Best to leave it unsaid, mol.”
Sarah pulled me away, pushing through the family angrily. “Shame on you for
killing an innocent, and tormenting another. And shame on you for enjoying it
all!”
She took me to her
room.
That night I slept in
my cousin’s bed, hunger gnawing my stomach, and crying for my beloved Romeo. I
hated them all.
******
This series is fictional and follows the narrator who is remembering events related to a family vacation in Kerala during her childhood.
The family is punishing the cousins for their midnight attack on Mobby (FC82). Unfortunately, quite harshly.
Read the entire The Webs We Weave series here FC69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94
******
#fiction #keralasyrianchristians #lifeinakeralavillage #FishyChronicles #mumbaimalayalis #malayalam #clandestinelove #love #rooster #romeo #chicken curry #naadanchickencurry
