Fishy Chronicles 10: Genie Moves In; Takes Control

I jumped out of bed.

I had guests. One tiny insect and a large human. They needed tea.

Morning chai.
(Photo Credit: A. Peter)

I walked into the living room and stopped. The floor was hidden by plastic tree branches and boxes of decorations. Nobby was buzzing excitedly around Genie, who was cross-legged on the floor and working quickly.

“Tea?” I asked.

“It's ready. Breakfast too. Made dosas and chutney.”

Genie had already assumed control. When he had left me I had had a tough time getting my housekeeping act together.

This is a fictional series surrounding a group of Fish, Genie, a former manservant turned free soul and world traveller, Norbert, a rum-loving mosquito and the narrator, a single woman, living in a distant suburb of Mumbai.

None of them suspects each is going to goad the other into an adventure.  

Genie turns up unexpectedly and proceeds to take over the Christmas preparations.

Fish make a dramatic entry. But the whole group is jolted by the doorbell and what they find on their doorstep.

I poured out the tea into my mug and sat on an armchair. After a while I slid to the floor and began to put together the branches. Genie pushed twigs and branches towards me. He was organised. He had bunched together the boughs with their branches and carefully taped some of the disintegrating bits together.

Fish had often grumbled about how old and decrepit the tree looked. But when I told them it was over 35 years old and had been in my family home forever and loosened vivid memories of my parents for me, they stopped.

For every year Genie and Fish lived with me, I found a couple of nice, expensive ornaments on my TV stand – wrapped in lovely gift paper. Each of those gifts had been of exquisite glass or crystal and I threw away a number of my plastic Christmas tree ornaments over the years.

Fish and Genie denied the gifts originated from them. But it would be carefully rewrapped and tucked away in a sturdy box and stored in the loft a few days after the new year – all while I was asleep.

It troubled me that I didn’t know who had bought them, or that it should be a secret, but I soon forgot in the excitement.

I looked in the corner of the living room and felt relief. A fish tank had been set up. I had found it too heavy to pull out of the loft. But it was filled with water now. Fish's favourite couch had been set up and the water heater was switched on and their special plants were tethered to the base of the tank.

I looked at Genie. He smiled, “Water's dechlorinated. By the time they get here, the water should be fine.”

I smiled. “Do you ever switch off, Genie?”

“No.”

“Do you ever forget things?”

“No.”

“Do you have family?”

His eyes bored into me, and I felt a frisson of fear. He looked back at the tree and continued to gently put the branches together. “I think we can finish this in an hour. Let’s eat breakfast first.” He rose and disappeared into the kitchen.

“Do you want a happy Christmas, my dear?” Nobby asked. He sat on the rim of my cup and took a sip. Always my cup, never anyone else's.

“Yes.”

“Stop asking Genie personal questions – snowed-out Sweden may beckon.”

                                                                ******

Fish turned up in a limousine. They had turned up for a stress-free dinner, safely eluding the tedium of putting up Christmas decorations.

The limousine caused a stir in our street and it was an effort to get Fish out. But I saw Genie march to a door, throw it open, grab the tank and walk back into the building.

It stunned the society folks and I could see some of the older women clutch their hearts and the younger ones preen. I scurried back to my flat.

I saw Fish pinching their mouths shut, standing on the edge of the tank and diving in stylishly. Genie tried not to roll his eyes. And then a lovely sight greeted us. Fish jumped out of the water, twisted and turned and slid back into the water.

“When you watch them like this, you can forgive them anything, no, pipsqueak?” Genie murmured, struck by the Fish.

I nodded. We watched them move around the sofa, their books, the plants and then loll and squirm until they found their spots in the tank.

I turned to look at the window – at the darkening evening. Finally it had started feeling like Christmas. I had bought presents too.

The bell rang. I opened the door and found a covered basket on the doorstep.

It moved, or so I thought. And I screamed and backed into Genie. I pointed at it. I dearly hoped someone was giving me a puppy or kitten. I moved behind him.

Genie picked up the card on the hamper. “It’s got your name. Rather, all our names... including all of Fish. Quite a feat.” Another grin. Travel had loosened up Genie like nothing else had.

I felt a poke. “Open it,” Nobby ordered.

I lifted the top cover slowly and stared.

What was going on?
                       
                                                                ******

Fishy Chronicles 9: Nobby Fights For His Christmas Tree

“What are you thinking about, sweetie?”

I looked up. Norbert was hanging on to the outside of the net window. He had been visiting me often. Sometimes to get away from the BMC's killer pesticide fumes. But mostly because he seemed lonely.

“Nobody interesting to have rum with, Norbert?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Who has the time? Besides, it’s so hard to keep a relationship going. What about you? Isn’t it time you tried to cultivate friends?”

“Like who? Most of the people I work with are in the throes of great relationships, according to Facebook. Though the boyfriends and girlfriends look different each time I bring myself to check. I’m disturbed by my jealousy at how happy other people are.”

“It’s a put on.”

“My jealousy?”

“The numerous love interests.”

“Why do you say that?”

“At best you’d have 2-5 boyfriends or girlfriends ever. This is all unreal.”

“Times have changed. Now one has many, many, many. The number beggars belief.”

“Yes, no one cares about how they hurt one another.”

“I’m having rubbish luck. I tried to get some of my ex work friends to fix a dinner plan, but it’s been several months now. Went to a litfest recently and some people I knew looked through me. Maybe it’s me.”

Norbert sat on the rim of my tea cup and took a sip. He loved my tea, made with lemon grass.
“That’s normal – even among mosquitos. When we have a conclave, I'm the black sheep. If you haven’t noticed, I have the wrong kinds of friends.”

The wrong species too. My heart squeezed. “I’m so glad you're in my life. We’re the strangest bedfellows.”

“True. Every time I feel like drinking your blood, I have to stop myself.”

“I know the feeling. Every time I want to hug you, I have to remind myself that it could remove all traces of your existence. Did you ever drink Genie's blood?” I always wanted to know. Sneaking it in when Nobby was in a convivial mood seemed like the best time.

Norbert stayed silent.

“Have you had mine?” I joked. Nobby made to move. “Hey! Wait,” I tried to cup my hands around him but he was too quick. Just yesterday I had thrown away the electric bat I had been using to electrocute mosquitos. I hadn’t used it in years, and was loathe to give it to anyone. What if they used it on Nobby. So I broke it, even though it could charge no longer. I thought of how it would become part of a non-decomposing landfill but shook the thoughts away.

Nobby was lounging now on the window seat. Luckily, I was rarely visited by mosquitos, even though people were falling ill with dengue in my housing society. Hence, the BMC's industriousness.

I'd already been visited by the building secretary and his posse of lecherous self-important middle-aged men. Instead of looking at the flower pots for stagnant water, they had inspected all my rooms, my bed especially, and looked me up and down, for signs of debauchery – or so I imagined. I had felt a shiver of fear.

When I told Fish, they had shouted at me for letting the committeewallas in.

“I hate the baldy,” Norbert said, when he saw me look at the flower pot balanced on the grills of the box window.

“Who?”

“That lech. I saw them inspect every room. Why did you let them in?”

“I’d have been hauled off to prison... or have to pay a fine if I didn't let them inspect my pots. Probably penalised. Did you bite them? I saw more than one mosquito here that day.”

I couldn’t help grinning. I knew Nobby had brought his friends along to feast on the committee. He hated Mr Duggal with a vengeance. Nobby hated most of the men around me. None, he told me once, were fit for consumption – his or mine. And after Genie left, he sat sometimes on my bookshelf and watched my guests.

“I heard Duggal ask about your Christmas tree. We agreed we were putting it together this year," Nobby said.

“You and Duggal?”

“You and me!”

“It's been years since I set it up. Not this time.”

“Aww, come on. We always had one with Genie!”

“Yes. But for the strangest reason, it seemed terribly important to him. It was always a fait accompli and I only made happy noises so as not to hurt his feelings. And he felt enthusiastic enough to do it the next year and on and on!”

“Yes. We know. What have you against Christmas anyway?”

“Nothing...”

“What is it? You drag your feet every year.”

“Just feels like it’s for family... It's only ever felt Christmasy with my parents. And now there isn’t anyone.”

“That’s not true!”

Shit. I upset Nobby with my tactlessness. “You know what I mean. It’s not you, Fish or Genie. You make it feel whole. It’s just that... I don’t know what that utter joyous feeling is about. Doesn’t feel real.”

“This is what happens when you let people ride roughshod over you and listen to shit. You believe it's for real!”

“What?”

“It’s Rohit the idiot and all the other morons you associate yourself with. Let them go and tell yourself that you have a right to happiness. I knew I should have given him cholera when I had the chance!”

“Nobby! Listen to you!”

“No. You listen! Get up this instant. Have a bath, brush your teeth and wear a nice dress. Then climb into that loft and get out the tree and all the decorations. We’re going to have a spanking Christmas celebration this year!”

I hated what Nobby said. But he was right. Rohit had never wanted me to get my friends home or go crib hopping. He had trashed all my ideas for Christmas decorations and I'd finally stopped putting up my tree. I hadn’t realised it then, but he had sapped the life from me.

This is a fictional series surrounding a group of Fish, Genie, a former manservant turned free soul and world traveller, Norbert, a rum-loving mosquito and the narrator, a single woman, living in a distant suburb of Mumbai.

Norbert is upset the narrator has given up her family tradition of a grand Christmas celebration. They argue fiercely but are interrupted by the doorbell in the middle of the night.

Nobby was still glaring at me. I didn’t want to lose my only friend in the world. And I wanted to hide from the nauseatingly happy Christmas carollers dressed as Santa, his elves and reindeer.

The doorbell rang and Nobby and I looked at each other. “Who do you think it is?” he asked.

We looked at the wall clock. It was past 11pm. It was too late for the churchwallas and for Laxmanji, the ironing guy. And I hadn’t ordered food – I'd made dal and khichdi. Strangely, Nobby had a fondness for dal tadka. He had to have been a crazy Indian human in his previous life.

“Wait. Do you really want to open the door,” Nobby said nervously.

“Don’t worry, Nobby. You sit high up on the wall. I’ll practise a karate chop or just bite whoever it is.”

Nobby hissed with irritation. “Look through the peephole first!”

I looked through the hole and felt intense shock. I grabbed the bolts and began to open them in a hurry. I threw open the door and smiled foolishly.

“Are you going to let me in?” he said gruffly.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive... Hey!” Genie tried to prise my arms from around his neck but I tightened my hold. He gave up and after a while I felt him sigh and his body relax.

Nobby was buzzing around Genie, attempting to kiss him. Finally Nobby sat on his ear, whispering excitedly.

“How come you’re here, Genie. Did you eat? There’s khichdi,” I asked, flushed, and embarrassed by my emotions.

Genie perked up at the sound of khichdi and Nobby and I watched him eat. He was very lean now, his muscles looked harder than ever. And he was dressed better.

“Were you at Mousetrap, Genie?” I asked.

He stilled and looked me in the eye, “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you call or let us know?”

“Fish knew.”

And so did Nobby, by the way he was avoiding looking at me.

“Will you be here for Christmas?”

“I thought you might need help with the Christmas tree. And I wanted to eat cake. Yours.” He smiled broadly.

I couldn’t be angry. I was happy. Christmas would be Christmas – with Genie, Nobby and Fish... and a tree, lights, tinsel, fruitcake, plenty of rum and some eggnog – minus the naked man.

I was soooo ready to face Santa and his rabid carollers.

When the neighbour's ballsy, booksy idea takes off against all odds. The neighbour's Christmas tree.
(Picture credit: A Peter)