I watched the shadow move. I had stopped being afraid of the shapes that
danced on my wall at night, because I knew now that it was the tree’s branches
moving gently – illuminated by the weak streetlight. I had conquered my fear of
the shadows outside, but I stayed awake at night consumed by the shadows within.
I had remained in our bedroom every night since Romeo had been cut up and
cooked into a curry (FC84). It was brutal and I couldn’t stop thinking of it. I
missed my little feathered friend and avoided going to the guava tree now. I missed his kinship and the way he seemed to speak to me.
In the day, I spent time next door with my grandfather’s brother Kunjappachan.
But I had developed a nagging distrust, which I tried consciously to shrug
off every time I understood what was happening. Appachan had been loving, a larger-than-life
presence always. His sweet treats, taking his grandchildren out to the local market
– we took turns as his car could only fit some of us at a time – bringing us
flowers and cashew seeds from his morning rounds of his fields, his stories
about his long-dead parents and other family. But in one swoop all that had
changed for me, and watching things unfold – for some of my cousins too.
In a few weeks I had witnessed all of this family turn from Dr Jekyll to
Mr Hyde. It was something I couldn’t wrap my head around. I felt myself hold
back from simple interactions, wondering if the person I was talking to was
secretly plotting evil against me. I couldn’t share my thoughts, I had to
debate everything I wanted to say, how it would be construed, consider the
backstories... eventually it felt easier to nod and keep quiet. It was all confusing
and frightening. I clung to my parents, following Appa to the farm and drifting
into the fields, much to Appachan’s irritation. I wanted to avoid the house,
Ammachi, her daughters and my cousins at all cost. When I spotted my great uncle, I
stayed close to him.
Every morning I swallowed my breakfast, doing my best to avoid eye
contact with the others and then, while my grandmother was mid-sentence listing
out my chores, I was out the door and at the gate next door. The day I was
cornered, my father reluctantly blocking my path, Ammachi gave me an earful
about being ungrateful and bad mannered and it being a sure-fire route to the gates
of Satan’s vile quarters. It was tedious listening.
Just the previous night my father had given me a restrained lecture
about good manners, and having to accept what had happened and moving on. We
had had a bitter argument and I had demanded going to my mother’s parents’
home. When there was no let up, I burst into tears and the matter ended.
I looked at my parents – they were snoring. Their ritual night-time chats
and light laughter had stopped – not that I had noticed. But I did notice that
I had not heard any family gossip in a long time.
******
There was news at Kunjappachan’s house though. His eldest grandson was
visiting from the US. He’d just got a job and his parents had insisted he meet
his grandparents before he returned. I had met my cousin occasionally over the
years, but we had little in common because of our age difference – except for being
able to speak in English.
My great aunt and her daughters in law fussed over him – partly because
he was so handsome and mostly because he enjoyed their attentions – and luckily
his pants had elastic at the waist because his gaunt look had disappeared quickly.
Every relative of ours that lived abroad usually returned to India ‘healthy’, a
polite way of saying fat in Kerala, but in Roy’s case this was the reverse.
He was the brilliant cousin, who had studied at a tony university in
Delhi and soon after gone off to do a PhD in the US. He was hot, according to
my cousins. I had to agree, he looked chiseled and did not have a potbelly.
And he was nice too. His face was mostly buried in the newspapers, his
grandfather ordered some English magazines and newspapers just for him, and
when he wasn’t reading he was either at our house or roaming around the village
and fields.
When I did get over my awe of him, we chatted, played chess, and because
I always lost we ended up playing draughts, Snakes and Ladders or cards. And
after a while, I became aware that my older cousins would be there too.
One day, I pushed through the crush that had formed around Roy. I petted
Petty the goat and then saw the glistening deep purple jamuns on the ground a
little further on. Many had been trod on by the visitors, but some were in good
condition nearer the bushes bordering the courtyard. I moved forward, picking
up a coconut shell from near the cow shed to hold the jamuns.
From the low wall separating the two properties, I could see the men in
my grandfather’s study, and an argument in progress. So what was new – my
relatives only knew how to fight. When I asked Appa about this trait, he said
they discussed politics. The snatches I had heard confirmed it, but once in a
while they got heated and shouted their heads off about other things. One day
it was about an old friend and some money. Another day one of the uncles was
denying a smoking habit, and another day it was about one of their wives being
treated rudely. But this seemed unlike any other argument. Anniemama, Sarah’s
mother, was standing in the doorway of the study, her face pressed into her
open palms.
Georgiechyan was looking down at someone and screaming blue murder and Appa
and Joychyan were pulling him away. Suddenly Ammachi appeared at the windows,
grabbing two shutters at a time and slamming them shut.
******
Georgiechyan and his family did not appear for lunch. I wondered what they were doing for food. They did not appear for
evening tea either, even though the youngest kids were sent to knock at their bedroom door.
I was surprised Ammachi could spare a daughter in law, chores might be
heaping up. Ammachi looked disturbed. Her daughters sat on either side and the
only noises were of my cousins eating their food and bantering.
Inhaling the aroma of the etheka appams, I gave thanks for the
extra snacks on my plate. The George family didn’t know what they were missing.
******
I wiped the sweat off my neck with my hand. Ugh. The fan was spinning slowly over
my parents and the air didn’t quite disperse into my corner of the room. The fluorescent
dial of the clock on the bedside table showed 12.53am.
I debated getting up. Usually Sarah had her call with Johnny about now (FC80). It had become a prolonged nightly ritual, and was a pain because it coincided
with a murder serial I had started watching. They were still not allowed to
talk to each other, unless supervised, till their marriage some months away. As
the family didn’t know that the two were speaking to each other, Sarah had
sworn me to secrecy. The understanding was that I would not listen in on the
call, and no one would know that I was watching TV on the sly.
For some reason Mobby had stayed firmly in his room since our night-time
episode (FC81, FC82) … or else he
was visiting Sonimol chechi later at night – after Sarah’s call and my serial.
What could I do this time of night? No movie and no night-time snacking
– Ammachi had changed the padlock on her goodies cupboard. She still hadn’t
figured out who had been making inroads into the snacks or that there were a few
copies of the same key floating around. Sometimes we watched her open the
cupboard to see her reaction. She thought someone was taking the key from under
her pillow at night and couldn’t understand how she didn’t wake up.
I remembered the magazine Roy had given me. It was a political one but
had a gossip column of sorts in the back. Plus, there was a Bollywood special
in this issue – the only reason I had wanted to read it. I found a torch in the
dressing table drawer, but it didn’t work. There were no batteries to be found
either. The bedside clock yielded only the narrow pencil variety. I snuck out
of our room and stood still in the corridor until my eyes got used to the
darkness, and then followed the faint light from the street coming through the
sitting room windows.
I crept forward, the memory of Mobby’s thrashing coming to
mind and I was mindful that I would get the same treatment were Sarah to catch sight
of me. I still felt bitter at the thought of me being punished and Sarah
getting away scot-free. For sure, Mobby and his parents were afraid of Sarah,
else she would have been court martialed or locked up in the store room for a few
days.
There was no noise coming from the sitting room. The call must have
ended early. This was strange because lovers talked for an inordinately long
time – as did Sarah and Johnny. I held back. Sarah was seated on the red sofa,
staring into the distance. I leaned forward to see what she was looking at and
could spot nothing in particular. The phone was next to her on the sofa. I
hesitated, but then cleared my throat. It would be worse if I was caught spying.
Sarah didn’t seem to have heard. I went closer. She was holding herself
stiffly, her hands by her side, her back straight but leaning forward and
bathed in white streetlight. And then I saw a tear roll slowly down her face, with
another dropping from her jaw. I began to move forward, but then remembered our
pact and moved back into the corridor. I watched for a while, but she didn’t
move or stop crying.
Finally I stood next to her and waited. She sat back against the sofa.
“What happened, Sarahchechi?”
There was a long sniff. And a shrug. But she still didn’t turn to look
at me.
“Did… er… Johnnychacha call?”
She looked down at her hands.
“Er, chechi, did you guys have a fight?” I couldn’t remember ever seeing
her cry.
She looked up and one side of her lips rose in a false smile. “No. We
didn’t fight.”
“So?”
“His family called yesterday and ended the engagement. He hasn’t called
me for several days.”
My breath stopped. “What?”
She stood up and brushed down her kurta, swaying. I caught her arm to steady
her. “You’re joking, right, chechi?”
“Wrong, mol. I’m not joking,” she said with some force. “His uncle
called up and said they did not want to proceed, th-that… Johnny had had second
thoughts.”
I was stunned. My perfect brother in law. Now a never-brother. It was
unbelievable. “But why? What’s wrong with you?”
It seemed a source of mirth for my cousin, and her lips
thinned.
“You think it is funny?” I asked.
“You think I’m perfect?”
“Yes!”
“Even after pinching your ears and shouting at you?”
“… I think a guy would think you’re perfect.”
She snorted and sat, bending over, with her elbows on her knees and her
face in her palms. I babbled, “I mean, you’re pretty, fair, and thin,” and you
have brains, “and guys like that.” Guys didn't like brainy girls – beautiful yes, clever no. And after several weeks of Ammachi’s
training and her grand plans for her granddaughters, Sarah knew how to keep
house. That made her perfect.
I was putting my hand on her shoulder when I heard the savage swear
word. I quickly pulled it away. “What now, chechi? … Er… The announcement was
made in church… What will happen now?”
She shrugged.
I didn’t know what to make of it. But I did know most of my cousins had
had ultra-short engagements, and been raced to the altar. Was this why our weddings
occurred so quickly after an engagement – to kill the possibility of the union not
happening? “Have you tried calling Johnnychyan?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He hasn’t picked up his phone for a few days. Since Wednesday.”
I felt horror seep through my being. It was the day
before Romeo’s life was brutally snuffed out. “Y-y-you think it’s related?”
“What?”
“Feels like a coincidence.”
“What?”
“Romeo’s death and your engagement ending.”
“Don’t be silly, mol! There is no connection.”
“Or the same person who wanted Romeo dead, spread stories about you,
enough to end your engagement?”
“What stories?”
“I don’t know.”
“Romeo and ‘this’ are not related.”
“How can you be sure. And why now, why not before your engagement?”
“I can’t be sure, but I don’t think anyone would break my engagement
just because they were angry with me for something. It is too cruel.”
I could believe it. Anything was possible in this house filled with
insane people. My cousin looked up, searching my face, “You don’t think so?”
her voice broke and tears started falling again.
“Sorry, chechi, just me being paranoid.” I sat next to her and squeezed her
hand. “Maybe Johnnycha will change his mind… and-and want to get back with you…” I
wished I had a hanky because now my cousin’s face was twisted and red, and she
was sobbing.
I held onto her for an eternity, begging God to ease my chechi’s misery.
In that fell swoop, I realised that it wasn’t the engagement that mattered to
my cousin – she had lost her heart to Johnny too. When she stopped crying, a long
time later, we held hands and watched the street outside until the sky started
turning pink and the streetlights were switched off. Then we went back to our rooms.
******
This series is fictional and follows the narrator who is remembering events related
to a family vacation in Kerala during her childhood.
She is traumatized by the demise of her pet rooster, but it seems the malevolent force prevailing in her household isn't done with her and Sarah yet.
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 #keralachristians #keralastories #kerala #keralavacation #keralafamilies #love #loss #brokenengagements #marriage #food #satan #clock #mobby #sarah #fishychronicles86 #grandparents #goat #rooster #Romeo #websweweaveseries #swearwords #beautifulwomen #mumbaimalayalis #malayalistories #chess #boardgames #snakesandladders #draughts #johnnyandsarah #spying #beautifulwomen #cleverwomen #prettywomen #savage
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