Fishy Chronicles 37: Secrets

I took the ancient recipe book from the bookshelf. The hardback cover was discoloured and crumbling. All the recipes were in Malayalam and I had rarely opened it to look.

The fat arm's-length book looked like an accounts ledger. It was tied in a bundle with two other recipe books. At some point my mother started buying recipe books and making notes in them and saving clippings from magazines in a folder.

I wondered why I needed to look at them at all - their owners were dead. I wouldn't be able to ask them about measures or how the dish should taste. I didn't know if I'd cook these family dinner dishes. Could I get Aarav and Aditya interested in cooking? Aditya liked to help, especially when I made cakes. He seemed to like the baking process and was smitten by the cookie moulds. I even made an apron for him. We agreed his father needn't know about it.

I untied my great-granny's book. It smelled of dried damp and dust, making me sneeze.

"Bless you." I felt the sofa sag. Genie took the old book from me and opened it. Tiny handwriting crammed the aged, brown pages. The corner of one disintegrated in Genie's hand. Small holes pock-marked the pages. Clearly, insects had found the ink and paper delicious. Genie turned the pages carefully until the writing became spidery and erratic and the recipes stopped and seemed to turn into notes. Water had spilled on the pages, blotting the ink in places. I pointed it out to Genie.

"That's not water. Most likely tears."

Coldness pressed my heart. "W-What?"

"Nothing."

I grabbed his arm. "What do you mean? Why did you say tears?"

He looked at me and a soft sigh escaped him. He pointed at the small crinkles in the page. "See the randomness of the ink blotches? The person seems to have cried. The stains are not there in the previous pages." He turned the pages as quickly as he could without damaging them. "The handwriting seems to be the same all through, so it could be your great grandmother."

"Or grandmother." Suddenly I wasn't sure whose book it had been. Mummy hadn't been keen to write in it even though she had had a wonderful relationship with her grandmother and had filled her own book with her grandmother's recipes.

We set aside the old book and opened Mummy's. The first page had my mother's maiden name and 7 June 197X written at the top. The maiden name was crossed out and her married name scribbled below. Flowers decorated the sides of the page and it instructed us not to read its contents.

We flipped through. Her handwriting changed over the years and the recipes were noted down more haphazardly the older she got.

Then I found a small piece of butter paper. A heart was drawn in it and my parents initials entwined in the heart in Papa's handwriting. Seeing my parents as young lovers was... strange.

Several pages later, there was a conversation in the margin of a recipe.

Papa wrote, "Tell her to stop it."

Mummy: "How?"

Papa: "Use your magic. Tell her it's not on and to forget it."

My eyes scanned the page. There was no date. I grabbed the book from Genie and turned pages back and forth, but couldn't find a date or who my parents were referring to. We went back and began to read again.

Mummy: "She's too stubborn. You try. Speak to her gently else she may get upset and we won't be able to solve things."

Papa: "Let's see. Do you think these people will leave soon? I've got a headache."

Mummy: "I'll get you some balm."

Papa: "Balm won't work in this case."

The conversation ended abruptly. We turned pages but couldn't find the rest.

"Just to confirm - that's Papa's and Mummy's handwriting, right?" Genie asked.

"Yes. But... it was written a long time ago. Do you think they're talking about me?" 

I skimmed the pages to see if I could pin the recipes to a period. Some pages later I found a magazine clipping with the date at the top of the page. 12 July 1990. That ruled me out - I was too little for serious mischief. 

"I don't think it's you they're talking about," Genie confirmed. "Did anyone live with your parents and you when you were younger? Around this time?" he pointed at the date on the page.

"Lots of people turned up and stayed. Especially relatives. And Papa and Mummy had many servants then."

"Okay." He closed the book on my fingers. "I think we should stop."

I was taken aback by his sudden about turn as he was as interested as I to know who my parents' headache had been.

"Okay," I said slowly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Go to bed," he said.

"Okay."

Genie looked taken aback by my response, but his face soon returned to its factory settings.

                                         ******

This is a fictional series about the narrator, her former pet fish and manservant, and now friend, Genie. Fish and Genie have returned from their travels and are staying with the narrator. Previous personal equations have changed. 

The narrator decides to mend her mother's and great grandmother's recipe books. In her mother's recipe book she spots a curious conversation between her parents. She finds tears dotting recipes in another book, written in a script she cannot read.

                                         ******

I couldn't sleep. I wondered if I had insomnia. The phone rang, jolting me further into wakefulness.

Roma asked, "When are you going back to work?"

I hesitated, "Soon. Why?"

"When were you planning to tell us you stopped working?"

"What?"

"So you've been holed up in your flat for months..."

"Not months..."

"... and Genie is now in town. Anything I should know?" she said, sounding irritated.

"Nothing. There's nothing to say."

"Georgy's friend at Bombay Sentinel said someone told him you had quit - that he hadn't seen you for months."

"That's true. I haven't seen Parag for months. But I was working there till a month ago. I've taken leave."

"Why?"

"Just wanted a break."

"For what?"

"Just."

"WILL YOU TELL ME WHY OR NOT?!"

"I've told you before... I'd been asking the boss to let me go on long leave."

"No, you have not!"

"I have. You just haven't been listening, bogged down with your own problems."

"Rubbish! Even Anjali doesn't know!"

"Oh!" I said involuntarily. I hadn't told my best friend, nor did I think Roma devious enough to check with Anjali first. 

"Oh, oh, oh! You remember now, don't you!" Roma said triumphantly.

"Yes. There's no need to get your knickers in a knot. This is precisely the overreaction I wanted to avoid. If the news gets out, every relative I've never heard of is going to ask me what I'm going to live on."

"What are you going to live on?"

"My savings."

"Hah!"

"See!"

"You don't have money!"

I swallowed a retort. My cousin was being rude. It had taken me a long time to muster the courage to ask my boss Leonard D'Silva to let me go on leave without pay.

"Are you looking for another job?" Roma demanded.

"No."

"Why not?"

I felt exasperated. "I'm looking for a rich husband. Oh, but I'm divorced with fish children. Good night, Roma. Let's speak when both of us are in a better frame of mind."

I was going to cut the line, but Roma said, "Wait, wait, WAIT!"

"Yes?"

"Georgy's told his parents."

"Shit!"

"And my parents too, Sweetie! Just fix on a good, unshakeable explanation."

"All of them think I'm an aimless flake!"

"That's true. I just wanted to warn you. Good night."

                                        ******

I glanced at the clock. It was past 2am. I was in deep shit!

I got out of bed. Genie's bedroom door was closed and I walked quietly into the sitting room. In the dim lamplight left switched on for Fish, I could see them bobbing up and down gently, fast asleep.

I picked up my mom's recipe book moved to the window and sat on a chair. I used my book light to re-read my parents' conversation, but couldn't place the person they were talking about. I thought back to 1990 - we were following Papa around the country.

"What are you doing?"

The book and light flew in the air and I fell off my chair in fright. Genie's hands grabbed me and pushed me back into my chair. I trembled, my heart racing madly.

"Wh-Wh-What... a-are you doing?" I said nervously.

"Roma called me."

Shit! 

"She asked me if we were having an affair, were married, whether you had quit your job and how we were surviving without an income. I assumed, she meant yours."

"Shit!" Genie looked angry. I didn't think my cousin would go so far as to drag Genie into it! "Er, I'm sorry about Roma, Genie..."

"Why did you quit your job?"

I struggled to find an appropriate answer. My desire to leave had many elements. "I was unhappy for a long time. I wanted a break..." I said lamely.

"Couldn't you have found another job and then quit?" He asked, his expression softening.

"No. I tried to take a sabbatical but management wouldn't agree. Finally, I just resigned."

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Anjali or Roma?"

"Everyone has their own problems and I didn't want their advice, however well meaning it might be."

We sat quietly. I was surprised Fish were still slumbering considering the racket we had just made. "Do you want tea?" Genie asked. The clock said 4:16am.

"You're not going to say anything?" I asked him.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You're old enough to know your mind. I'm sure you've thought things through."

I felt panic at my looming empty life and income-less future. "And if I haven't... got a plan?"

"You'll wing it." Genie walked off before I could say anymore. I picked my mother's book off the floor and saw the faded colour photo near it. I trained my light on the photo. My handsome young father had one arm around my mother, who was holding me - a baby then, and his other around his pretty sister Saroj. My cousin Eva looked exactly like her mom in this photograph. Aunty was very pretty in a pink kurta salwar with a long thick braid gracing one shoulder and bangs on her forehead.

I heard Genie coming out of the kitchen. I slipped the picture back into the book and put it on a nearby stool. Everything could wait... including my crazy thoughts.

Fishy Chronicles 20: The Strangeness Of Happiness

I stumbled against a flower pot and felt Genie's tight grip steady me. I don’t know which was more painful, his fingers biting into my fleshy forearm or my stubbed toe.

“Why are we crawling about in the dark? I’m going to my house. I’m not doing anything illicit! Going home in pitch dark feels like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to,” I grumbled.

“Shhhh,” said Fish.

“I’m saying...”

“Too much,” Genie said. He grabbed my bags, went up the stairs in a flash and I heard the faint sound of my door being unlocked.

I wheeled the fish tank toward the lift and glared at the sleeping watchman. Our racket hadn’t woken him up. Some people were blessed. They could sleep through storms. Even though I had slept in the best beds in Cambodia, I had tossed and turned. I had heard strange noises and had had strange thoughts and only near the end of my holiday had slept long stretches, mostly because I was tired each day.

Genie loomed in my face. He picked up the fish tank and moved swiftly up the stairs. I saw a light in an upstairs window. Old Mrs Glory Gonsalves was smoking in her balcony. She only ever smoked at night and out of sight of our neighbours from the Dark Ages. She blew me a kiss and I blew one back at her.

I walked up the stairs and stopped. Genie was leaning against the wall near our home, ostensibly waiting for me, his arms crossed, his thin white t-shirt clinging to his muscled arms and torso, his nipples showing and one of his legs in front of the other, with the ankles crossed – like those middle-aged society madams trying to look thin and hip. Really, Genie, a minute and you got tired waiting for me?

I entered the flat. I sighed. It was so good to be back home. Fish were already rushing about their home tank, moving furniture, hiding their eats and trying to find their comfortable spots. Their luggage was strewn at the bottom of the tank. Five fish, so much luggage. So materialistic.

A throat cleared behind me and I turned. Genie smiled. “Good night. Your suitcase is in your room.”

                                     ****** 

This is a fictional series about the narrator, Genie, her former manservant and now friend, five opinionated fish, a devoted mosquito called Nobby and a visiting North Pole elf called Donny. They have just returned from a holiday and are now face to face with a neighbour who is in love with Genie.

                                     ****** 
I heard the doorbell ring.

Ignore, ignore, ignore! It was the weekend. I tried to shove my pillow into my ears. Then I heard a familiar voice. I immediately jumped out of bed and tiptoed to my bedroom door and listened.

It couldn’t be! I listened for several minutes. Nothing! What a time for a door to block out sound.

I tiptoed into the corridor off the hallway to hear better, but Genie caught sight of me.

“Oh, look, she’s awake,” Genie stood, smiled and gestured at me to sit near him on the sofa. I felt grubby and shabby in my long loose nightgown, especially as Zeba was looking her best in a tight, flower print halterneck dress.

He took my arm and led me toward the sofa. Genie sat next to me, leaned back, put his arm along the back of the sofa, stretched his legs and smiled expansively at Zeba.

My eyes bulged the minute I felt his arm behind my head. What was Genie thinking! His smile was cool, and hovered only around his mouth. 

My head whipped around. Zeba's smile had faltered and it was clear she was making an effort to keep smiling. 

“Zeba was asking about our trip,” Genie’s moustache said.

“Yes, Cambodia. How exciting. What did you both do?” Zeba's eyes bored into me.

“I was on a yoga retreat. But they,” Genie's free hand gestured at me, and he instantly corrected himself, “she, had the time of her life. Didn’t you, my love? Tell Zeba about your adventures.”

My love? I could feel a stake through my heart already. “E-Er... H-h-had an excellent guide and all. Went to the temples, Angkor Wat, Bayon, Ta Prohm. Y-you must go, it's a traveller's delight, for sure."

“I’m sure.” Zeba said, her eyes feasting on Genie and him smiling back at her lazily. Shit, shit, shit! I turned, desperately looking at Fish. Where was Donny, my dear elf?

I spotted them, pressed against the fish tank’s wall, watching us with no expression at all and very still. Nobby was watching from atop the tank. I turned around and saw Donny hiding behind a large potted plant on my sitting ledge near the window. I felt a little confidence creep into my being.

I looked back at Zeba and was startled by an angry look, quickly replaced by a fake smile. I felt Genie's arm fall onto my shoulder and him saying loudly into my ear. “Go get our present for Zeba. It’s the bag on the kitchen platform. Go on. And some of those chocolates.”

I got up. There were about six mangoes tied up in a fancy gauzy bag, a big red ribbon tied neatly around its neck. I opened the fridge and found two large bars of liquor chocolates in a narrow checked gift bag, sitting on a shelf. Genie seemed to have thought of everything.

When I returned, Genie and Zeba were standing and kissing each other's cheeks. I handed Zeba the mangoes and chocolates and she thanked Genie effusively and ignored me. 

He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the door. She attempted to hug him but he held back. So she threw her arms around his neck and then moved back, out of the door and out of my line of vision. Genie waved and nodded and smiled and then closed both doors.

“What's going on, Genie?” I asked.

Genie shrugged, sat on the sofa and shook out the newspaper he had been reading before Zeba rang the doorbell.

I stood in front of him, plucked the newspaper out of his hands, shoved it into my left armpit, crossed my arms and waited. 

Genie grinned broadly, stretched his legs, for which I had to move out of the way, and relaxed, staring up at me, his head tilted to one side. “Fraternising with a beautiful neighbour.”

“A hateful woman.”

“Tut, tut. A human being. And an esteemed member of this Society.”

“Bullshit.”

Genie laughed. He looked at my angry face and laughed again.

I looked up. The top of the tank had slammed against the wall behind it, and against the laws of physics stayed upright precariously. 

“What the fork, Genie! What the hell are you playing at!” my dear, dear Penaaz shouted. Water splashed out of the tank, as the other fish first flew around the tank and then jumped to the top.

“Yeah,” Portas and Pervez shouted together.

I could see Genie was surprised at Fish's reactions. What did he expect! They hated Zeba as much as I did.

I remembered Nobby. He was now sitting on the bookshelf. “Why didn’t you bite Zeba, Nobby?”

“I have renounced violence.”

“Bullcrap and bullshit!” 

Genie and Nobby burst out laughing. I threw myself at Genie, but I was no match for him. He pinned me against the sofa with an arm and continued to laugh while I and Fish shouted and swore. Finally Genie put his finger on my lips and said, “Shhh. We don’t want darling Zeba to return, do we?”

I wanted to call him a name, but mostly I wanted to bounce the hardest, biggest Cambodian mango we had on Zeba's fat, hairy head. When he didn't take off his hand from my mouth or stop pinning me to the back of the sofa, I nodded angrily. After an eternity, he let me go. The idiot!

I stood up. “What is going on, Genie?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit!”

Genie laughed.

“Stop playing around with me, Genie! Are you fooling around with her?” I demanded. 

Genie stopped laughing, but continued to smile. He shrugged one shoulder.

“Out with it, Genie,” Gregory said from the tank.

“I didn't expect Zeba to visit. So soon, in any case,” Genie said.

“We're listening,” Gregory prodded.

“And I’ve been thinking these last few days... especially after her phonecalls while we were in Phnom Penh...”

“And?” I pressed.

“And I think I’ve been handling things... inefficiently.”

“Meaning?” 

“We’re going about Zeba the wrong way.”

“So all the mangoes you bought in Phnom Penh were for Zeba?” 

“No. The mangoes and chocolates on the kitchen platform were for Ms Glory. Zeba just beat her to it.”

“But you’re sending Zeba the wrong signals!”

“I’m just trying to do the neighbourly thing. Sharing fruit.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” I told him.

“Good to know.”

I had a thought. “Are you two going to be coochie cooing on a regular basis?”

“I can’t say."

“It would make me sick,” Portas said from the fish tank.

“I second that,” Gregory said. The lovers, Penaaz and Pervez, had retreated to a corner and were murmuring to themselves.

Genie patted the seat next to him. When I didn’t move, he pulled me onto the sofa. “I’ll make some tea. I offered yours to Zeba.”

I was going to say something rude when I remembered. “Did Nobby...?”

“Yes. He had the first sip. Happy?” 

I shook out the crumpled entertainment supplement of the Bombay Sentinel. What I wouldn’t give for Zeba to know a mosquito had dunked his proboscis into her tea, especially one who often chugged her blood. I struggled not to chuckle.

Papa was right. Happiness came from the strangest things. 

                                    ******