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. 
                                                                    

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

Fishy Chronicles 44: Bust-up At The Bank

I could feel Genie raise himself to look at the chaos unfolding. There were people screaming and crying and running about for cover.

I pushed his elbow off the back of my head and raised myself to stare in disbelief.

Some moron had half-heartedly driven his car into the bank's shutters.

I say half-heartedly because the bank's shutter over its main entrance had caved, but not given way. People were picking themselves off the ground and a mob was now trying to open the door of the car.

When it didn't open they started kicking and banging the car. I looked for Kuriakose Uncle. He was in a distant corner – Aunty and he staring at the scene with some distress. Near them a group of churchwallas were trying to lift them off the ground. I saw people running.

When we were able to compose ourselves, we got up from the ground and stared at the scene unfolding. The crowd rocked the car and people screamed and shouted.

Genie strode into the crowd and I ran after him. I knew he was going to try and save the bugger in the car. 

This is a fictional series surrounding, Genie, Fish and the narrator. The narrator has lost most of her money in a bank scam and is at the bank waiting for RBI* officials to turn up and explain the next course of action (Fishy Chronicles 43). However, an upset depositor drives his car into the bank's entrance and is set upon by an angry mob.

I grabbed Genie's arm and was dragged someway ahead until he shook me off. He plunged in and was pushed about by the angry crowd when he managed to get close to the man whom some of the crowd had managed to pull out of the car. They had smacked him about. There was blood on his face and he looked disoriented. I jumped into the crowd and felt terror immediately. I was pummelled and pushed violently and someone squeezed my right breast. In a rage, I poked a man in the eyes and everyone else within my flailing reach. I felt strong arms pull me towards the car. People rained blows on us and the motorist who started it all crawled into the car and sat dazed in the driver's seat. 

Genie pushed me into the car and I fell on the man's lap and his hands held me down involuntarily, instantly making me anxious again. I wriggled out, looking for a weapon in the idiot's car. I saw a magazine on the dashboard, rolled it and threw myself into the crowd again, hitting whoever I could reach with the makeshift stick.

Only, now, there were policemen beating everyone with sticks. We were pushed into the car's sides by people trying to escape the lathi charge. I felt the unbearable press of the bodies and screamed in pain feeling the door handle of the car press into my lower back. I punched, scratched and tore wildly at the people in front of me and I felt them move backwards slightly. But the police had them sorted. They thrashed everyone within reach and soon the crowd pushing us started thinning. 

I was pulled roughly and thrown to the side. Everyone was babbling at the same time, but the police were oblivious. They lunged for the man in the car and pulled him out. One policeman waved his lathi and hit a few more people before the space in front of us widened. I was pulled off the ground roughly and pushed in front. I tried to protest, as did the others, but we were thrashed some more and a while later we grew silent. 

It is amazing how quickly the sight of men in khaki can disperse a crowd. Even the chaiwalla had grabbed his kerosene stove, vessels and stand and disappeared. I couldn’t see any of the churchwallas or the Kuriakoses. Trouble had turned everyone's feet in to wings and they had miraculously transported themselves elsewhere. 

I heard a sharp barking in Marathi and I was let go immediately. Genie grabbed my arm, tucked it in his, nodded, smiled and shook hands with the Sub Inspector. I could hear the man say that Genie would be called in for questioning, but the SI smiled all through that threat and Genie started moving away.

“But, but...” I turned and saw people being herded into a large blue police van with strong grills on the windows. I couldn't see the car's driver.

“Shhh. Hurry up!”

“But...”

Once out on the road, Genie walked fast towards our car, opened the passenger side door, pushed me into the seat and shut the door. He immediately got into the driver's side, started the engine and took off.

“But... we're going the wrong way!” I said.

“Okay.” 

“Genie!”

“Didn't you notice the police vans and barricades blocking the road back there?”

“Er.” I waited a few minutes to ask a vexing question. “Arief?”

“Yes?”

“Where did he go?”

“No idea.”

Genie's white t-shirt was ripped, it was dirty and his hair was messed up. He had a bruise forming on his left cheek and blood from his split lip had dripped onto his shirt.

He saw me staring at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Stop somewhere and I'll look at that cut on your lip.”

“Mouth to mouth?” Genie's mood suddenly lightened.

I boxed his arm and he groaned. I felt bad immediately. “Sorry!”

“That's okay.” He parked near a building and turned to look at me. He turned my face towards him and gently touched my jaw. I winced. “We'd better go to a doctor.” 

“Yes. Best,” I said glumly. My left eye was shut, swollen and painful. My body was sore and my right side hurt. Besides, someone had pulled a handful of my hair and I felt blood on my sore scalp. 

Genie started the engine and slowly moved out on to the street.

“How is it you were able to get the SI to let us go?” I prodded Genie.

“I told him what happened. That we weren't involved.”

“Huh.” From the corner of my eye I saw Genie look at me and turn away his head immediately. “But... the let-off seemed inordinately quick,” I said.

“Maybe.”

“Perhaps if I was alone I'd have been on that van.”

“You were lucky today,” I saw the corners of Genie's mouth turn up.

“How do you know that policeman?”

“We've had chai together.”

“Interesting. How come?”

“Wouldn't you have wanted to be a fly on the wall then.”

“Indeed.” I waited for Genie to elaborate, but the silence stretched. “Well?”

“What can I say,” Genie shrugged his shoulder slightly. “It was a happy coincidence... for us... that Jeevan was there. Once he understood that we were protecting the driver, he let us go... with the proviso we'll present ourselves at the police station whenever we are asked to.”

“He didn't ask for our details.”

“He knows our address.”

“Convenient!”

“Yes,” Genie grinned.

“You're pulling a fast one on me, Genie!”

“Tchah, tchah, tchah! So distrustful even after knowing me so many years.”

“Bullshit! Don't make it about me!”

“What's there to say. I know him. We go back a long way. He knows where to find us and it was our lucky day,” Genie was grinning, his eyes firmly on the road ahead.

I glared at him. I was going to get to the bottom of this. Hopefully. Someday.

Genie stopped the car and pushed up his dark glasses. I was surprised it hadn't got crushed in the melee. Or perhaps he had never taken it out of the car. I couldn't remember. He leaned towards me, forcing me to press backwards into my seat, and opened my door. He turned his head, too close for comfort, and murmured, “Go in. I'll be right there.” 

I was annoyed and didn’t respond. I got out shakily and turned towards the clinic. I held back, groaning silently. There were women standing up in the open area of the waiting room. Some of them started to smile. I saw some Peaceful Society ladies staring after the car and not taking their eyes off Genie.

Suddenly the day seemed endless. Luckily, no one was interested in me. As soon as the sexy Genie stepped into the waiting room, a seat became vacant, he was pushed into it and women began to fawn over him. 

“... oh dear...”

“... are you hurting?”

“... the wound looks painful...”

“... which idiot would dare lay a hand on you!”

“... you poor, poor, poor thing...”

I wanted to vomit. I closed my eyes tightly to block out the sight and sounds. Ugh!

I felt a body sit next to me. I opened my eyes and Genie grinned. He answered all their questions patiently. Soon, the other patients graciously waved us into the doctor's chambers.

“Oh my God! What happened to you!” Dr Sharma said. He immediately started looking at my eye, while Genie gave him a swift, sanitised version of today's events – minus our brush with Sub Inspector Jeevan X. 

“Well,” the doctor said, after working swiftly on us, “going by your injuries today and what I've just heard, both of you were very lucky. I'm giving you painkillers. Get these x-rays done and show them to me today. Off you go. Next!”

We said goodbye to the other patients and set off towards the car. Hopefully, the day would seem better after a painkiller. We gulped our respective doses and went off to the hospital. 

*RBI = Reserve Bank of India

Fishy Chronicles 36: It's Complicated

Dear Diary,

What a mess the last three days have been.

I fought with Ashok, Arief and Nidhi a number of times. We never seemed to get off on the right foot.

Eva patched up with Ashok, making all the uncles and aunties happy. Ashok and Arief seem like brothers from different mothers. Nidhi and Arief seem to be an item, but Roma and I are not sure. Arief is always around to give Nidhi a hand with steps and things. I don't understand why she didn't use the pristine white running shoes she brought with her - she has pock-marked Pretty Villa Hotel's lovely garden with her stilettos. A couple of days ago her stilettos wedged themselves deep into a wet portion of the garden and it was funny watching her kneel to pull out both heels. For some reason Arief was looking elsewhere then and Uncle looked exasperated. Some news article soon caught his attention. Truth be told, just watching us must have been like a high-speed police chase drama. The oldies watched us all the time.

While pfaffing about at tea today, I impulsively invited Ashok and Eva for appams and stew. Arief cleared his throat and I felt cornered. So I asked him home too. In a minute, Aditya stood in front of me and Roma told me that she and the boys were turning up as well.

I felt someone stare at me. I tried to ignore Nidhi until Genie murmured into my ear that I was being rude. If anything, he said, I could watch a new romance ferment (his words) over appams. I was surprised at the speed of Nidhi's assent.

On the drive to Mumbai from Lonavala, I did the sums - the number of cups of rice and coconut milk I'd need for the appams. Would my old/young yeast cooperate? I wrote the math on the back of a toll challan. Arief and Ashok ate like sparrows - they worked out and watched their weight, Eva said. Nidhi needed to balance on chopsticks, making her Starving Sparrow No. 3. If Georgy followed Roma, more worried about Genie's influence on her, he'd make Sparrow No. 4. The boys would eat like one hungry full-grown man. I made no allowances for Eva. It was doubtful she ate - being on a diet perpetually. 

With that done, I started thinking of the tattered recipe book I was trying to mend - my mother's and her mother's.

"Why don't you put out some of those recipes in a book," Genie loudly interrupted my thoughts. The car's windows were down and we were enjoying the breeze through our hair. 

"Done to death," I said in a guttural voice, trying to imitate Genie's deep voice. 

He didn't notice. "Plus anecdotes."

"I don't know any."

"Sure you do. Remember that recipe your granny taught you - you said you had to soak the ingredients several weeks for the liquor to give all the nuts a kick?"

My words exactly. "I think you're referring to the Christmas rum cake. My great grandmother taught me that family recipe when I was eight and keen to bake. I even wrote it down with her and my mother's help." And that fragile, lined piece of paper was in my mother's recipe book, tattered but full of Great Granny-Mummy love.

"And she told you not to share it with anyone."

"Yes." I thought of my poor great grandmother. Her daughter-in-law, my grandmother, had hated her and I once heard my granny tell someone that she hoped my great gran would die fast. Luckily, my great gran lived another 15 years and died just short of 100 years. 

My unhappy gran moved to the US to take care of my uncle's family, learnt to wear pants and play bingo. She returned to India eventually, to another son and daughter-in-law, and steadfastly remained unhappy.

I took another challan and jotted cooking instructions to myself. I started when Genie shouted over the noisy breeze, "What do you think?"

"Of what?"

"The book idea."

"It's a good idea. I have to fix Mama's recipe book. Something might come to me."

Who knows, something might come of it. On that note, and conversations reproduced almost verbatim, I shall end my journal writing for tonight.

                                         ******

This is a fictional series about Fish who return to their former owner - the narrator. They are joined by her former manservant, and now friend, Genie.  

They return from a tense holiday with the narrator's relatives. Fish lay some rules and issue the narrator an ultimatum. 

                                         ******
At home I fixed a khichdi for Genie and I. Nobby went off to suck blood in Peaceful Society and Fish settled down to their garlic-liver-shrimp meal.

After dinner, Genie stretched out on the divan to look out of the window at the stars in the sky. I soon dozed off on the sofa. 

The voices woke me. Genie was breathing evenly and seemed to be asleep. There seemed to be an argument, or maybe loud conversation, going on in the tank.

"... Arief... Nidhi..."

"Roma... cigarettes... Georgy..."

"... ******* bad influence..."

I struggled to hear without moving. Clearly Fish thought I was sleeping. 

"She needs to steer clear of that lot. Especially Nidhi! And she's gone and shot off her mouth and invited Nidhi home!" Penaaz almost shouted. I tried to stay calm and concentrate on breathing slow.

"Nidhi will come here and look down her nose at everything. We've got to tell Genie to tell her to hide the heirlooms - she'd never listen if we said so!" Pervez said of me. 

"The heirlooms are classy. Elevate the home. They should stay where they are," Gregory said. The heirlooms they were referring to were a couple of very large brass uralis (wide-mouthed shallow vessels) that were more than a 150 years old. One was my great grandmother's and the other my grandmother's, both gifts to my mother. These days Genie filled them with flowers or potpourri.

Dimitri's voice distracted me. "Maybe things may thaw between them," he said of Nidhi and me.

"Hah!" Gregory snorted, "That will be the day. And I don't know what Arief is playing at! One moment he's playing hopscotch with Sleeping Beauty here and in the next he's canoodling with Nidhi!"

I laughed before I could stop myself. 

"Really!" Penaaz said annoyed. "If you're awake you might as well join us. We're talking about you!"

"You've got to stop mixing with people bad for you," Portas said. 

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You had a rotten time in Lonavala, yet you've invited that bilious lot home for more punishment."

"Don't you think you're being harsh? I mean we became friendly toward the end. And Ashok is married to my cousin and he's good fun."

"There was drama and you were unnecessarily wrung out by it all!" Penaaz said angrily.

That was true. I had been out of my element with a group that thought they were superior. And I had rubbed them all the wrong way and not been apologetic - or so Eva tried to tell me. Plus, at tea, loosened by the snacks and banter, Ashok had teased me about how we were related and that he still hadn't eaten a meal I had prepared. 

"It's not a bad thing - inviting my cousins over for a meal. Long overdue, I think. Besides, I like Ashok."

"Yes, yes, but think of the consequences. They'll make mincemeat out of you. By the way, you should make a beef stew," Penaaz said.

"What are you expecting to happen?" I asked.

"Trauma... for all of us," she said with unnecessary theatrics.

I laughed and then stopped. Fish were serious. They shared a point. I liked Ashok and Arief. I thought it a cosmic joke that Arief would turn up in Lonavala as Eva's boyfriend and walk smack bang into his friend and Eva's then-estranged husband Ashok. And look how things turned out - Arief and Ashok rekindled their friendship and Arief couldn't back away from Eva fast enough.

"And Nidhi?" Penaaz prodded, when I had stayed silent too long.

"I don't know what her problem is. I'm surprised she wants to come."

"If she's rude to you again, she's out of our lives forever!" Gregory said, trying to loosen his bow tie and adjust his glasses at the same time. Now his tie was askew and his glasses were on the tank's floor. 

"Or at least lose her at sea," Portas said.

"Just drown her," Penaaz said forcefully. 

"I'll try," I said, "to set things right." I turned to look at the divan. Genie was now on his side, his head propped up on his elbow, listening to our conversation. "What do you think, Genie?"

He got up and joined me on the sofa, stretching his legs out. "This should be her last chance." He held my hand and absently tapped my knuckles with his forefinger, making a point. "You shouldn't let people disrespect you constantly. It means they don't care... and nothing good comes of putting up with it."

I nodded. I never seemed to learn. Now I had to gather my tender heart and guard it with my life. Nidhi had a choice - she was going to stay in, or out forever.

Fishy Chronicles 35: Au Revoir, Lonavala

There was a gentle tap on my hotel room door. I'd bathed, dressed and packed. Our holiday was finally over and we were checking out of Pretty Villa Hotel in Lonavala by 11am.

Nidhi was still sleeping and would likely miss breakfast again today. The younger, more intrepid, lot was planning to have tea first, walk around Charlotte Lake and then go to a nearby Parsi hotel for breakfast.

Genie smiled and took control of the tank and Fish listed out the various horrors they'd endured during the night.

Downstairs, we met Arief, Ashok, Eva, a grumpy Georgy, Roma and their kids and Georgy's sisters and their families. This was unusual as Georgy's sisters rarely liked to mingle with outsiders. Genie, Arief and I were considered outsiders, even though we were insiders and knew enough to not to want to know more.

I felt a hand pull my ponytail. "You went skinnydipping in the pool last night," Arief said, grinning mischievously.

"Probably got me mixed up with someone else."

"Nope. I saw you."

"Something wrong with your eyesight then."

"Nothing wrong with my eyesight. I saw you and Roma smoking in the pool."

"Ah!" I casually slapped Arief on the chest. "We were modestly covered. And you're not supposed to say we smoke in front of our relatives."

"Why not?"

"Because it's secret. Hence, our midnight swimming session."

"I see."

He didn't really. But I didn't want to explain the time warp in which our families existed. "So, did you have a good holiday?"

His eyes widened and blinked. He smiled slowly, "In a manner of speaking."

"It's me you're talking to. You can be honest. 'A manner of speaking'... you might as well have said you didn't have fun."

"I did have fun." I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when Arief gave me a brilliant smile. "Just not in the way I expected."

"Oh."

"You could have woken up Nidhi and got her out with us," Arief said, spoiling the moment.

"I could have. But I didn't want to punish myself more than necessary. By the way, you could have woken up Nidhi too. She would have welcomed your sunny morning greetings with a 200-watt smile. Why didn't you?"

"I thought I'd leave all that to her beloved cousin, sleeping in the next bed."

"She's not my beloved anything."

"On par with what you feel for your ex?"

I looked at Arief wondering why he suddenly brought my ex husband into the picture. I wondered what to say. Whatever I said I wouldn't be able to recall it. And later I'd realise it was inadequate. I often had speeches for what I wanted to say to my ex, but they never saw light of day. My parents and well-meaning relatives had told me I'd regret what I said – even if I was right. Not saying what I felt had never worked well for me. But it didn't work well even when I did say them. The best solution, I eventually realised, was to walk away.

I took a sharp uncomfortable breath and started walking faster until I was next to Roma. I put my arm into hers. I didn't turn back. Somehow I didn't want to talk to someone who was going to constantly bring up my ex or Nidhi. He could have them both.

                                        ******

This is a fictional series about the narrator, her  opinionated former pet fish, and her parents' former manservant Genie, who is now her friend. 

They are wrapping up a rather eventful holiday with the narrator's cousins and in laws. There is palpable relief in the air.

                                        ******
"Why are you avoiding Arief? He seems to like you," Roma said while we were navigating our way around Charlotte Lake. I say navigating because Georgy's older sister lost her balance while we were walking on a path leading downhill. She grabbed my arm and we rolled a little way. We stopped – with her on top of me and a large stone in my side. It was bloody painful. I gasped for breath, coming to the conclusion those were my last.

But someone lifted the heavy woman off me and I could feel Genie and Arief pull me to my feet. Genie made me sit. I couldn't bear to look at Georgy's sister. It would have to wait until I'd mastered the rage born of my soreness. My churidhar was torn at the knee and I could see a trickle of blood. But it was nothing compared to the pain in my side and my embarassment at it all. Roma clucked with worry and finally pulled me toward Pretty Villa Hotel.

"Very sorry," Georgy's sister said embarrassed. There was not a scratch on her, though Georgy kept brushing some dust off her. My nice white kurta had turned a dark clay brown and there was a tear at the side.

Roma, Arief and I were now back at the hotel and I was unpacking to see which of my previously used clothes I could reuse. Nidhi was awake and yawning. Her face screwed up as soon as she saw me and then changed for the better when she saw my disheveled state.

"Rolled around in the dirt, did you, doggie?"

"Woof!" I replied, finding no real answer on me.

"Shut up, Nidhi!" Roma said. "How dare you call my sister a dog!"

"Er, Roma, I didn't see you." Nidhi jumped out of bed and ran into the bathroom. I heard the lock turn. I could think of several swear words – none of which did Nidhi justice.

I finally found a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and I had quick shower in Roma's room.

Downstairs Arief looked me over. "Let's take my car to the hotel."

"No parking there. Let's just walk it."

"Is Nidhi awake?" he asked.

"Yes. She was asking for you. Maybe you should go up." I felt Roma grab my arm and give it an angry shake.

"No, Arief," Roma said, "Just ignore her. Come on. Let's go."

"Are you in pain?" Arief asked. I was grimacing from where my knee had scraped the ground and the hotel was a 15-minute walk away.

"Why do you always mention my ex and Nidhi when you know I don't like it?" I turned on Arief.

Arief smiled involuntarily. It died when Roma glared at him. "My bad. It draws the worst reaction from you – childish of me. It's just that... I used to know your ex from Pink Sun. I attended your wedding..."

"What?" Roma and I stopped in our tracks. 

"Yes. I'm sorry for being nosey. I have so many questions running in my head - about your ex, Mr Poonawala and the fish."

"I won't be answering any of them," I said coldly. I felt Roma's hand gripping my upper arm in warning.

"Er, yes, of course," Arief nodded and we walked silently. I seethed. There weren't enough nosey buggers in this world. Fish were right about him. I looked through the corner of my eyes. It was an absolute pity he looked like a delicious walking icecream.

                                        ******

Genie pointed to the spot next to him and I hobbled over. I ignored the voyeurs. We had spent three days here and even though they hadn't talked to us much, the entire family had watched us like hawks. I should have sat on Genie's lap a few times. He might have jumped out of his skin. Perhaps I could have sat on any random man's lap. No. More problems than I needed.

Genie ladled scrambled eggs into my plate. This was an authentic Parsi breakfast with the eggs almost runny. I remembered Uncle Nigel showing me how to make it, while singing a ditty he had created. That day he hadn't invited my ex and it had led to a fight between us. Uncle had shown me some of his family albums and it had made me forget my husband in a few minutes.

"How did you learn to cook so well?" I had asked. He had shown me some traditional dishes and I had picked up fast.

"Oh. My mother was a wonderful cook and cooked for a rich Parsi and I'd help her. He eventually paid for my boarding school and the rest of my education."

"That's good then."

"I don't know. I thought so, but my mother was always unhappy working for the family."

"Why is that?"

"She never said."

"And you don't know?"

"Today, knowing what I do of the world, I could wager a guess."

I held my tongue, feeling slightly sick. A few days later Uncle came to my parents' home. I had invited him to try my mother's appams and stew. The ex was in a very good mood because of the visit. But I felt good because my parents and Uncle had hit it off. Somewhere we had a common thread, all of us, except for the ex.

You see, to everyone I had lied about who had actually inherited Fish. Everyone thought it was the ex. And we let them because the ex's ego had been hurt. But I attributed Uncle wanting to give me his fish to an extraordinary whim. Plus, there had been perks.

I understood why Ashok and Arief had so many questions. Why they constantly watched Fish, Genie and me. There had been rumours. Some of Uncle's relatives had even raised a stink but he had warned me about it. And his lawyer, S. Iyengar, had assured me the will was iron-clad.

Now more than ever I wondered about Uncle Nigel's motives. Why did he leave Fish to me. Was I all wrong about his feelings for the ex? 

I wondered why I remembered him so much during the trip. I turned to look at Fish. They were treading water watching me. What an incredible coincidence Genie ended up working for my parents and we shared the same feelings for Fish.

I stood up and rummaged in my bag. I had managed to get them something special today. Raw chicken liver. The broiler shop owner had cut it into slivers. I fed Fish slowly, chatted while they ate and then sat down to my cold breakfast. Everyone stared, their eyes twice the size they had been 15 minutes ago. 

Genie removed the plate covering my half-eaten breakfast, put another large spoonful of the beautifully soft eggs and a freshly buttered piece of toast on my plate. We joked about returning home to Peaceful Society and tried to imagine the gossip our joint absence would have elicited.

"Next month, that public holiday, could I come and stay with you guys?" Roma leaned over and asked. I could see her little son Aditya stand up in excitement. Georgy cleared his throat, but Roma ignored her husband.

"Yes! Of course!"

"There will be two young men following me."

"The more the merrier."

"Roma..." Georgy said warningly.

"Relax, Georgy. Just going to chill with my cousin. Not a problem, is it?" she gave him her most winsome smile. I saw Arief and Ashok grin.

"Er, no. I'll check the calendar and talk to Mummy. It should be okay," he said unhappily, all the while staring at Genie.

I dared not look at Genie. From the reflection in the glass door opposite us, he was giving Georgy his most winsome smile.