Fishy Chronicles 32: The Turn Of Things

"Are you moving out of Pretty Villa Hotel, Arief?" I asked absently. Genie, Roma, Arief and I had gone to three tatty-looking hotels and been turned away for lack of rooms. I began to wonder if I could sleep in my car tonight - it was clean and comfy enough.

"If you want me to," Arief grinned.

"I don't."

"Why not?"

"My relatives will think you leaving is a conspiracy I've engineered and... Nidhi will feel lonesome," I said sarcastically.

"Okay." 

"Since Eva and Ashok will share a room now, yours empties out."

"Yep."

"There's a possibility that we may have to return... if we don't get hotel accommodation." I'd have to return with my fat, belligerent tail firmly between my legs.

"Yes," Arief smirked. 

"You're enjoying all this, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. Couldn't you have done the hotel recce first and then made the grand exit from the hotel?"

"I wasn't thinking."

"Clearly!"

"You don't understand! Someone kicked around my clothes and stomped them. They were neatly folded on my bed when I left the room for breakfast. There wasn't a clear enough footprint to make out the culprit."

"Couldn't you have just confronted the person you suspected?"

"Haven't you got enough of a taste of my crazy relatives - ours and Georgy's?! Do you think you'd want to tick off any one of them?"

"I can stand up to them."

I laughed. The goat. Stand up to them indeed! He hadn't a clue what he was talking about. And he was the lone cream puff outsider in a crowd of unreasonable, rigid Suriani Christians. 

He walked off to talk to Roma. 

"Psst! What's going on between you two?" Penaaz was at the top of the fish tank, glaring at me.

"What do you mean?" 

"We mean the kiss with Arief!" Pervez shot up through the water. "First you couldn't cross swords enough with him - swinging TT balls at his Adam's apple - and then waging a war of words."

"The next thing we know, your lips, tongues and arms are entwined," Portas said indignantly.

"Chee, chee, chee! That's a lot of nonsense masala even by your standards! He caught me by surprise - the kiss - and had my arm in a stranglehold! I don't know why he insisted on hanging on to it." Genie had looked at us once and hadn't turned around again. I felt guilty and chuffed in turns. Though I couldn't make out what was going through Arief's head. Was he punishing me for my previous antics - for causing his chin and Adam's apple pain? His TT ball to my collarbone had hurt like hell - he was capable of venom!

I felt water hit my earlobe. "Silly girl. He's fooling around with you!" Penaaz said.

"You know, Penaaz, I have to agree with you. I think he's having fun."

"Don't give in, Darling," Dimitri said. "Could be a holiday fling."

"Think about Genie's feelings!" Portas gnashed his tiny teeth.

I laughed. "What's it got to do with Genie's feelings?"

"He's in charge of you!" Pervez said.

"No, he's not!" I felt annoyed. I was a grown woman. I could have a fling if I wanted to.

"You know what's going to happen, don't you?" Penaaz said, she and Pervez treading water and their fins crossed over their chests - a stance my mother adopted with me often when she was irritated. 

"What?" I asked.

"He's going to ask too many questions. Spy on us when we speak. We won't ever have a private moment," Penaaz said.

"And then he's going to whisper sweet nothings to you," Pervez said.

"And then you'll tell him we speak to you," Portas said.

"And you to us" Gregory said, tweaking his bow tie nervously and glaring at me.

I looked at Dimitri, waiting for him to pile on the shit. But he stayed quiet, his eyes large. 

"So what if Arief knows?" I said.

"We'll be in danger, you silly girl!" Gregory cried.

"He'll make us a jingle in an ad," Portas shouted.

"We'll be, all at once, silly and notorious!" Pervez said, upset.

"Guys, you're being melodramatic!" I laughed.

There was sudden silence. Oops. I had insulted Fish. They slipped deep into the tank - out of my reach - and I could see furious bubbles pepper the top of the water. Some were swear words, raspberries and more.

I contemplated the man. Arief seemed chill. Right now he was talking to Genie, and joking about something. I dearly hoped he wasn't yanking my chain. I was unnerved by the kiss he had planted on me earlier in the day. I was no match for this sophisticate who could, sadly, beat me at my own complicated games. But why were Fish so upset? 

Penaaz shot up. "Have you considered what might happen if we have to go back to the hotel?"

"Er, technically, you and Genie are out for a stroll. If we can't find another hotel, you can go back and share Genie and Arief's room."

"And you?" Dimitri asked.

I planned to sneak into Pretty Villa Hotel in the middle of the night and smother Nidhi in her sleep and disappear. But, there was a snag. I couldn't leave Fish and Genie behind. 

"You are forbidden from sleeping in the car or smoking in it!" Gregory said. "It's awful when the stink gets into the seats! Where did you pick up such a filthy habit!"

"The car is an excellent idea." 

There was a fresh round of angry protests. If I returned, for sure I'd be at the receiving end of Uncle's substantial reserves of contempt. 

A shadow blocked the sunshine. "No luck with the rooms," Genie said. "How about we go back?"

I looked at Nobby sitting on Genie's ear. My mosquito friend was cross-legged and meditating, Buddha-like. He was the only creature in this tableau unaffected by anyone. My life felt like shit. Then I caught sight of Arief leaning over Roma and laughing with her. Yep, life was definitely shit. And dinner tonight was going to be even shittier. 

                                        ******

This is a fictional series about the narrator, her former manservant and now good friend Genie, and her former pet fish. 

The narrator, on a holiday, fights with her relatives and leaves the hotel in a huff. Only there are no other hotel rooms available in Lonavala. She's in a quandary. And life has just become more complicated.

                                      ******

As Genie advised me, sometime during our walk around Lonavala's market, I chinned up and made peace with the fact that I'd spend the better part of the evening and night with the family. 

So we ate a sumptuous seafood lunch. Fish stared at us aghast as we ate prawns masala, fried pomfrets, dal tadka and vade. While biting into the pomfret's hollow head, I asked Fish if I was eating someone they knew. They turned around and blocked me out. 

"Was that necessary?" Genie nudged me. Arief was sitting next to Roma and talking non-stop while she fed her younger son bits of fish.  

"Oh. Just putting things in perspective," I chuckled. But I soon felt bad and poked about the tank, murmuring and chasing Fish about with a spoon. I finally fed them salted caramel popcorn, one of their favourite eats, even though I didn't think it was healthy for them. When I turned to sit, I could see Arief staring at me, bewildered. The look changed and he gave me a smile. He was right, I was the kook the guys at Wimbledon would never let in - even if they had spent the day drinking scotch.

In the evening, after I'd stretched my second cutting chai and after Aditya, Roma's younger son, threw his brother's ball at me, Arief pulled me off the small wall I was sitting on and I followed them reluctantly to the hotel. I didn't feel very bad, even though I knew I was going to meet a bayonet head on. Genie had bought us Kolhapuri chappals and lots of chikkis and fudge - all Lonavala specials.

"Nervous... about going back?" Arief grinned.

"Are you?" I asked.

"No. Why should I be?"

"I don't know."

"So why did you ask?"

"Oh, simbly. Just didn't want to answer a question I didn't want to answer."

Arief took a deep breath and pursed his lips. Definitely a cream puff. If he felt twisted with me, he had had a miraculous escape from Eva. I came to a stop in front of Pretty Villa's glass doors. From here I could see Uncle, in the wooden armchair, reading a newspaper. It was like he hadn't budged from when I left him. The Kurians, Roma's in laws, were spread around him, talking. No one cared to do anything else.

He looked up and I waved nervously. He fluffed out his newspaper and looked down again. I felt the air squeal out of my balloon.

"Chin up! Remember what I told you. Care a fuck. Come on," Genie grabbed my arm and pulled me into the lobby of Pretty Villa. He manoeuvred me to a table tennis table and we started playing - a proper game this time.

It loosened me up and made me feel better. Several minutes later Roma and Ashok were at the table. Ashok hugged me and kissed my cheek. "Friends, I hope." I nodded, feeling overwhelmed. I looked at Eva from the corner of my eyes. She was happy, her skin a tinge of pink and her gaze wholly on her husband - things were back on track. Another look at the elders behind me confirmed all of them were taking credit for the Ashok-Eva reconciliation and trying hard to reach behind themselves and pat their backs.

There was sudden quiet around the table. I felt someone talking to the top of my head. I looked up and froze. Uncle! "Why are you here?" he asked me, a frown on his face.

"No rooms available." I was too nervous to lie or to keep looking him in the eye, but in a few moments his mouth turned crooked and he chuckled.

"I'm surprised you didn't go home," he said.

"I'm surprised too. But I thought I'd sleep in the car."

"Not a good idea. How much is your cut? I've forgotten."

"How much what?"

"You said to place a bet on whether you'd return. I did bet, with Kurian," Uncle gestured vaguely at Kurian Thomas - Georgy's dad. 

My mouth turned down. Care a fuck. Care a fuck. Care a fuck. Care a fuck. Fish had made me repeat it over and over. I opened my mouth to say something defensive, but, at this moment, Nobby, sitting cross-legged on a nearby potted plant chanted 'Om', opened one eye, shook his head, closed the eye and chanted 'Om' again.

"Er, who won?" I asked, finally.

"You really mean how much did I win."

I drew a deep breath. A quick look at Arief.... and Genie, they were watching poker faced. Papa hadn't been as irritating or pigheaded as Uncle. Still, there was a way to counter this.

"Uncle, who bet what, how much and who won?"

"How long have I known you, my dear?"

"Let's see, with no breaks in our relationship," even if I had wanted one, "forever."

"Right. How often have we bet?"

On every damn thing. That had been our thing! I swallowed. "Always. What did you bet, Uncle?"

"I bet you'd return to dinner. Just to spite me, you know. After all, you are the flesh of my flesh."

I cleared my throat. I'd been thinking of a free dinner, but I hadn't wanted to back down either. "And what did Kurian Uncle bet?"

"That you wouldn't return, and neither would Genie with your fish."

We stared at each other for an eternity. I took slow breaths. There's a reason why in laws stay in laws. They never seem to want to soak you into themselves. They're happy imagining what they decide is convenient. 

I finally smiled at Uncle and we hugged. "I hope you looted him," I whispered in his ear.

"I could make him bet only two thousand rupees. He was most upset when you returned. The problem now is how do I get that money from him!" Uncle whispered back.

I stepped away from him. He took my arm and tucked it into his and pulled me toward the garden. "They make good pakodas here. What kept you! We're all starving. Somebody order pakodas and chai!"

Fishy Chronicles 19: Hello Again

Dear Me,

It’s our last night here. I’m done packing. Fish are silent in their tank, bobbing up and down, their eyes wide and staring, mouths moving in a silent collective monologue. For sure, they will hate me for this depiction.

Our days in Cambodia were hectic, driving around the country, visiting Genie's old haunts, meeting some of his very interesting, and dubious, friends, eating at stops on the way to finally packing sandwiches and fruits or searching for Indian restaurants and Bread Talk every where we went. I thought we were of  adventurous palate, but after our third bowl of unfamiliar nosh, we stopped trying and ate what Genie did.

Everything has been an ‘otherly' experience. I have promised myself I will have a more open attitude to travelling and other cultures. I found the Cambodians a warm race, unsullied by development, though I saw many high-end cars – more than in Mumbai. I saw more in one square kilometre here than in most of Mumbai, though Mumbai is a huge metropolis with more people than the whole of Cambodia, so maybe not a fair comparison.

                                  ****** 

This is a fictional series. The narrator, Genie, her ex manservant, a former underworld don turned world traveller and now friend, and a school of vocal, irascible fish are at the fag end of their holiday in Cambodia.

                                  ****** 

The last few days have been chilled. We have been the focus of Genie's full attention. Genie moved us in to a service apartment next door to his friends – Indian expats and surprisingly good fun.

Most evenings we sat by the swimming pool with them, drinking tea and feasting our eyes on the sunset, catching the occasional drizzle and looking at the tranquil city below us.

Evenings on the terrace.
(Photo: A. Peter)

Genie wouldn’t let Fish into the swimming pool because of its chlorine content, but I screamed and waved from its depths. I only piped down when I knocked my head against the pool steps. From underwater, I could hear Fish screaming with laughter.

Each day was filled with outings with Sindhu, our de facto guide and expat friend, taking us to the palace or temples. Dimitri has a special corner for her daughter Adi who took us to most of the markets in Phnom Penh – Russian, Central, Orussey and the Night market.

We went to the Siem Reap Silk Farm and followed the process of silk making. Despite feeling sad about the number of silk worms dying, we bought beautiful silk objects from the shop.

Gregory and I went to buy stamps, which is strange because I don’t know where his stamp collection is. But I do know he visits post offices around the world. I bought a few too. The Cambodia Post building is charming and old world inside and out.

Cambodia Post, where we bought limited edition stamps. The stamp business isn't what it used to be.
(Photo: A. Peter)

The young lady manning the philately bureau seemed surprised at our interest. She seemed reluctant to part with Cambodia Post's wares. But eventually the department came away with a tidy fortune. We bought most of the stamps – limited edition, the young lady assured us.

Greggy and I, giddy with our purchases, sat at a nearby café, hoping for anything resembling a cutting chai but settling for an iced tea, and made each other promise not to tell the others how much we spent on the stamps.

I don’t know why we did that though as Genie gave us spending money every time we stepped out. We returned the change every night. He just put the change on his bedside table and gave us fresh notes the next morning. From being so independent, it felt unsettling to take money from Genie.

But Dimitri put it in perspective for me. “He's in charge. Let’s just humour him. Besides he’s so happy we're enjoying ourselves.” Genie certainly was happy. He smiled most of the time, and nothing seemed to faze him – even the odd kerfuffle in the fish tank.

Most days we spent Genie's crisp 100 dollar bills on museums, roadside food, souvenirs and tea and eats at posh cafés.

Genie even let Dimitri, the lovers, Donny and I take tuktuks about Phnom Penh. You see, we figured out how to bargain. And Fish are not afraid to voice their opinions. They bargained at the markets, with the tuktukwalas and even wrangled some freebies at a small supermarket. They didn't let me ogle the cute expats, but hurried me into some shops and proceeded to buy me silk and silver.

We bought lots of stuff at the markets. I bought a fake Rolex for my cousin Roma and shoes and clothes. Genie assured me we could take about 60 kgs back with us. He’s already accounted for 20 of those. He’s taking mangoes and some stuff for his friends. He wouldn't say who for.

I couldn’t close the suitcase I bought here, and finally filled the knapsack with some junk.
I’m feeling sad to leave. I fell in love with the peaceful Cambodians. I even searched online for English newspapers in Phnom Penh – there are quite a few. You never know, they may need experienced journalists.

I went to the palace twice, to look at the treasures there – the room filled with the gifts the Kings got over the centuries. I stared at the silver floors, about 6000 pounds of it, and then stood in a spot where the diamonds in the statue's eyes and forehead winked at me. I stared until another tourist bumped into me and unintentionally dislodged me from my trance.

I saw headless cross-legged Buddha figures in glass cases and wondered how only the heads had disappeared. It’d have been easier on the stone artefacts, but harder for silver. Was there a method to the madness?

Genie took us to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. I’m glad he was around. It was depressing. So many people visited and the only sounds we heard were of the boisterous groups of schoolchildren leaving the museum.

It’s an old school that Pol Pot converted into a prison cum torture unit. There are some graves on the lawn outside, and according to the signage, the last 14 of the victims at this place are buried here. Most of his victims were very young, many ranging from their teens to 30s.

The rooms are empty except for metal beds and pictures of dead prisoners with blood pooled on the ground. These poor prisoners were tortured for long periods. You can’t help wondering if the stains on the ground are blood they couldn’t get out.

Other rooms show many photos of executed prisoners. There are small biographies. All deeply disturbing. While leaving we saw one of the survivors of Pol Pot's torture. He was the artist made to paint all the gruesome details of torture. Some of his paintings hang in the museum. He lost his wife during that period. That day he was trying to sell his book.

When Genie asked if we wanted to visit the Killing Fields, a little outside the city, we said no. I felt sick at the idea of not going, but distressed at the scale of wickedness some could perpetrate on the majority. These were a people brutalized in modern day. It still continues all over the world.

I look at Fish, Genie and Donny and feel comforted. Nobby is on my shoulder, part reading what I write and part slumbering.

We are set to make our way back to Mumbai tomorrow. We won’t be returning in a small plane this time. We stop in Kuala Lumpur and then land in Mumbai in the dead of night. I'm wondering if this was intended to avoid a certain neighbour.

Genie even had a haircut. Or a tender trim. We dropped into the high-end salon to watch a young man gently massage Genie with cream, wash his hair and trim his hair and moustache. The salon happened to be unisex, so I got similar treatment and more – manicure, pedicure, foot massage, the works.

I feel like a million bucks. My holiday straightened out the kinks. I didn’t think of work or Peaceful Society. Tonight, when I rest my head on my pillow, I will sleep well.

Good night.

P.S. I have not weighed myself since my last interaction with the scales. Watch this space.

                                       ******