Fishy Chronicles 91: The Webs We Weave (23) – Black sheep

My heart beat loudly in my ears and throat. When Rita began to squirm I realised I was holding her too tightly. My arms loosened and she stepped back a little. We stayed quiet, listening for noises in the corridor. 

I put my finger to my lips, mostly to stall Rita’s questions and to think of an excuse. I had serious thinking to do.

A phone call to Johnny was out of the question now, not that I agreed that Sarah’s engagement needed to be broken. Johnny was a prick for making Sarah fall in love with him and letting her go – a maha prick.

But Sarah… maybe we had to leave her alone now. That was what everyone else was doing. She had more or less hidden herself since the news broke. For a while things at home had been subdued. I wondered often if Sarayumama had had a hand in it, but I didn’t think her intelligence stretched so far.

But how would she have known about Rebecca and Roy. Whenever I could, I watched my aunt. When her gaze settled on Sarah she sometimes smirked, but as the days passed her joy too diminished.

A door opened and we heard footsteps, they approached the store room and Rita and I crouched behind the table in the store room. It was Rita’s mom Elsamama. I put my finger on Rita’s lips and shook my head. Aunty was going to start working on tea and snacks. Soon a couple of other footsteps followed. The low murmurs were hard to decipher, but I heard Sarah mentioned, and when they paused by us in the storeroom my mother’s arm was around Anniemama’s shoulder. In a few minutes, Anniemama straightened, wiped her face with the pallu of her sari and they walked into the kitchen. We tiptoed to the doorway and looked out carefully into the corridor.

We touched our palms in a silent high five and disappeared in different directions. But at my door I found Mobby and Bobby in their room’s doorway. They gave me filthy looks and Bobby kicked the door shut.

I sighed in relief. It saved me some explanations. My father was fast asleep on his side and I lay gently on my mother’s part of the bed.

“Where did you go?” Appa asked, turning onto his back. I shot up, fright coursing through me.

“Appa!”

“Where did you go?”

“O-out in-in the-the compound,” I stuttered, my heart in my throat.

“Where were you planning to go?” my father was on his side now, facing me, his expression guarded.

“Er, er, nowhere.”

“You don’t know or don’t want to say?” My father’s look was uncompromising. There was no way I could lie. I looked ahead, at the ancient faded calendar on the wall. It had a picture of Jesus on it and so the calendar stayed on the wall, turning more yellow over the years.

“Mol… what do I keep telling you?”

“Er,” my mind raced. Appa gave me all sorts of advice all the time. “Er, not to lie or steal or cheat?”

His nostrils flared and his hard look relaxed somewhat. He shook his head. I tried again. “Er, not to eat other people’s food without asking?”

This time Appa chuckled. “Have you been eating other people’s food without asking?”

“No!”

“Do you know who visited me just before you came into the room?” (FC90)

The air emptied out of my chest and heat suffused my face, but I could only stare at Appa helplessly. I closed my mouth and straightened my back.

“Well, mol?”

“I think I did all the errands Ammachi wanted me to do today…” I looked at my hands.

“That is not what I asked.”

“No… I… don’t know who came to meet you.” Maybe one of the two men who came in through the front door about 20 minutes ago. In all probability my two eldest uncles, whom I would try hard to avoid today and until they lost interest in me.

“Rajanoopapan said you were spy…er… listening to their conversation from behind the shed.”

“I did not spy on them!”

“Then what were you doing behind the shed.”

“I was waiting for Rita and I saw Georgiechyan and Rajanchyan coming towards my spot near the tree and so I ran behind the shed because I didn’t want them to ask me about why I was there.”

“Why were you there?”

I gritted my teeth and glared at my dad. I was fed up of this bullshit cloak-and-dagger stuff. “I was waiting for Rita.”

“You just told me that. What were you going to do?”

“We were going to the junction to make a phone call…” 

Appa looked irritated. “How many times have I told you not to leave the compound without us knowing, and taking Rita too! She’s only eight years old!”

“Ten, Appa, 10! And we did not leave the compound.”

“But you have before!”

“Er, not really. Never alone, Appa. But I do go to Kunjappachan’s house alone, which you know about because I always tell you.”

“But you have stepped out of the compound without telling us.”

“Mostly with Sarahchechi.”

“Mol, just tell me the truth about why you were roaming about the courtyard when you were supposed to be in the house.”

“I-I wanted to call Johnnychyan and ask him why he broke the engagement.”

My father’s brow knotted, his mouth tightened and he inhaled very slowly. “What did I tell you about interfering in things that do not concern you.”

“I know Appa, but they are in love. They spoke every night after the engagement, for a-a long time.” Hours really, but Appa didn’t have to know.

“What?”

“Er, how can you just break an engagement?”

“One can, all the time. But you don’t need to go and set things right because you think you have a stake in it?”

Stake? What did he mean? “Appa, Sarahchechi didn’t know why Johnnychyan wouldn’t call her. I just wanted to know why. Doesn’t she deserve the truth?”

“Yes. But if Johnny doesn’t want to level with her, after… he talked to her, every night you say?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?” 

I hesitated. 

“Your TV business?” Appa said, with sudden clarity.

“Yes, Appa, I wanted to watch TV. I walked in on Sarahchechi soon after the engagement and I thought my ear would come off my head.”

“Serves you right. If Johnny doesn’t want to talk to Sarahmol then that is what she will have to accept.”

“But that’s cruel!”

“Yes.”

"How can that be okay!”

“It isn’t, but that is the way things are.”

“Aren’t we going to ask his family?”

“And lose our dignity over it? No.”

“But why not!”

“They are not worth the effort.”

“If it was my daughter I’d go over there and beat the shit out of them!”

Appa grinned, his teeth showing, and just as quickly the smile disappeared. He held out his arms, and I crawled across the bed and we leaned back against the headboard. A thought struck me. “If someone broke his engagement with me would you stay quiet?”

Appa stiffened, “I’d want to know why this boy didn’t want my beautiful, brilliant daughter. But then I’d think it was probably for the best – perhaps you were better off without him.” Appa looked at me, “What do you think, Mol?”

“If I fell in love with him, I’d want to break his legs for ending things with me.” Appa laughed. “But I hope someone never does that.”

Appa body moved when he nodded. “You know that listening to a conversation is bad manners, right?”

“I’m sorry, Appa.”

“You will have to apologise to your uncles.”

“No! No, Appa, please don’t make me! I will die of shame.”

“Good. It will teach you something I haven’t been able to. And whatever you heard, stays with you.”

I remained silent, feeling glum and embarrassed. When he threw off his bedsheet and started getting up, I held his shoulder. “Mol, I cannot let it go, you have to tell Rajan and Georgie that you are sorry.”

“Er, no, Appa. I wanted to ask.. did you know about Roychyan and Rebecca chechi?”

Appa let out a sigh. “Not until Rajan told me this morning.”

“What will happen now?”

“Nothing.”

“Er, I meant about Roychyan and Rebecca chechi?”

“Nothing.”

“But, but will Georgiechyan and Anniemama be angry? Will they force them to divorce?”

Appa turned and held my hands. “No, Mol. We cannot divorce for such silly reasons. I imagine Georgie will be talking to the two, but there’s nothing both sets of parents can do about it. Georgiecha and Anniemama and the rest of the family will have to make peace with it.”

“Er, what about Kunjappachan and Ammachi?” I asked about Roy’s grandparents.

“Maybe they will be just as angry as your Appachan and Ammachi. We’ll have to wait and see. Don’t share any opinions, be quiet at all times.”

I glared at Appa, it didn’t sound polite. He saw my angry look. “It’s not our business, and all of the family will be under tremendous stress. So, stay out of everyone’s line of vision. Don’t offer an opinion, don’t resurrect broken engagements, leave Sarah and Johnny alone. If Johnny thinks he can get better, he is welcome to. Now come on, that smell is wonderful.”

“You eat etheka appams almost every afternoon!”

“Yes, but today it smells especially good. I want your apology out of the way by tonight.

“Okay,” I said feeling very small.

                                         ****** 

In the dining room, I was less than thrilled to see my eldest uncles seated together. They looked up, Georgiechyan’s eyes instantly narrowing and Rajanchyan’s crinkling in a smile. I couldn't understand why. He waved at my father and Appa’s hand pulled my elbow along. Did he want me to humiliate myself in full view of the family?

Appa made me sit next to Rajanchyan and he sat at my other side.

Uncle smiled and put a faded quarter plate in front of me and two etheka appams on it and asked me if I wanted tea. I nodded, looking at him from the corner of my eyes. I needed to be on my guard. Plus, I had to fit in an apology somewhere. The sooner I could slide it in the better.

“I believe you are in the company of adults now, Mol,” the etheka appam was too hot and I unceremoniously spat out the large bite, dropping the appam in a hurry into my plate. There was a gasp from my grandmother, followed by her and her eldest daughter screwing up their faces in my direction. I put the piece of appam back in my mouth, after making sure it had cooled. That elicited another few murmurs of disgust from the ladies, but no one else seemed to have noticed.

“What do you mean, Rajanchyan?” Why did these adults talk in circles? Pilipochyan always wanted me to glean a moral out of whatever he said, so too Appa, and if I was slow in understanding any of what Ammachi said, I was sure to understand better with a beating – even if I didn’t understand. There had to be an expiry date for beatings. I looked at Appa, he was looking at me oddly. So I looked back at Rajanchyan, rather my eyes veered away from his to his ears which seemed pointy at their topmost tips like Mr Spock’s.

“What you heard was only meant for the adults, ok, yes?” I felt shocked, but nodded vigorously.

“I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to listen to what you were saying… but I was waiting for Rita a-and didn’t want to be found by anyone else. So I hid behind the shed.”

“I believe you, Mol.” I didn’t believe him, but bobbed my head some more. Nobody believed me. My stock was at an all-time low here. I felt relief quarrel with suspicion. “Can’t tell anyone though.”

What did he think I was! “Of course. Er, but… but isn’t everyone going to know soon?”

Appa tapped my shoulder and Georgiechyan looked at me menacingly. He always seemed a pussycat in front of his daughters. I looked down at my appams, which were fast losing their charm.

But Rajanchyan chuckled and despite myself I looked up at him. “Yes. Very soon. But it’s best you leave any news breaks to the adults.”

“Okay.”

“Any questions?”

“Eh?”

“Aren’t there anymore questions.”

“Yes, but you said I can’t ask.”

“I did not say that.”

“Okay. Appa or someone else must have.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

“What’s going to happen?”

“What’s going to happen where?”

I took a deep breath. Rajanchyan’s eyes were laughing and Georgiechyan’s face was hardening. Appa was listening raptly.

I pulled Rajanchyan’s face nearer mine and said, “What’s going to happen to Rebecca chechi?” I turned my ear towards his mouth for his answer.

“Nothing really. There will be a lot of drama here, crying, threats, some blackmail, mostly from the elders and Sarayu. But no one here can break the marriage.”

“So then, what’s the problem?”

“They are second cousins, things will be uncomfortable for the immediate family for some time. But things will blow over after a while.”

“Will we be forced to stop talking to Rebecca?” That had happened to one of Appa’s cousins. My aunt had eloped with a Hindu man and only a few years later did the family allow her to visit. One year, Ammachi would not open the front door, despite the visitors knowing we were at home. Kunjappachan had never had any such issues.

“Will Kunjappachan have a problem? And Thomaskuttychyan?” Thomaskutty was Kunjappachan’s second son and Roy’s dad.

“Probably. But we’ll have to wait and see. Anything else?”

“If there can’t be anything done about it, why the fuss?”

Rajanchyan threw back his head and let out a bark of laugher. His arm squeezed my neck and I started tapping it for him to loosen his grip. He loosened his arm and pulled me closer to him and laughed some more. His children looked surprised. When he had composed himself, he said only so I could hear, “I agree, Mol. Why the fuss. It will be a novelty only for a few days. They are not exactly siblings, though if it were a marriage between outsiders, it would be an excellent match.”

That was true. Both Roy and Rebecca had beauty, brains and ambition. And from the little I understood of family connections, they were well placed.

“And after I heard the stories about you, I thought this family was missing its black sheep and keen to find a replacement.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

Me, a black sheep? I shook my head several times. They had it wrong. Black sheepery was for more serious crimes.

“Do you know what a black sheep is?” Rajanchyan asked softly, placing another snack on my plate, and pushing my tea closer.

“Er, yes, sort of.”

“Do you consider yourself one?”

“No!”

“Good. Don’t bother about what other people think or say. Just be yourself.” He paused, “Do you think I’m one?”

I hesitated. All the stories I had heard pointed to him being one in his youth. He had been a rabble rouser – part of the student union, disappearing from home without notice for days due to local political campaigns, his activeness in church, and he was very handsome in his early pictures. Plus, he failed a year in college. But all that changed when he met Sisly Aunty. His family had made peace with all this, but his parents couldn’t forgive him for following his heart. “No. I don’t think you are one.”

“Anyone here look like one?”

I looked around the table. My family ate noisily and bantered loudly, while the kids ate with their mouths open and spilled tea on and around the plastic place mats that Ammachi insisted we use. Most of them were undiluted idiots, including Rajanchyan’s kids, but how to be impolite and say so. And how could a sheep be wicked because its fleece was black. He was just being a normal sheep. Clearly his colouring was due to his genes – a black daddy or mummy. When my father and Uncle started laughing, I realised I had said it aloud. I was also thinking of the black cat that people were afraid of in the village. My neighbours considered it evil. What was wrong with its black fur? The villagers and even people in my neighbourhood in Bombay took torturous routes around the black cats they encountered or threw stones at them. But Kunjappachyan next door loved the black cat and it often lolled under the shade of a jackfruit tree near the window of his room or on his window sill.

I watched my family looking at us with interest and my grandmother frowned, her eyes on me, for sure assuming I was the villain. Rajanchyan continued to murmur in my ear, “Well, for now, you and I have been displaced by dear Rebecca.”

I heard a car pull up outside the gate. It squeaked steadily as it was opened and the tyres of a car churned the gravel in the courtyard, slowly and heavily. We heard car doors shut and about a minute later the doorbell rang. A sudden silence fell on the group in the dining room. And then as one, chairs scraped backwards and people began to scramble towards the main door.

                              ******

This series is fictional and follows the narrator who is remembering events related to a family vacation in Kerala. 

Mol's father confronts her about eavesdropping on her uncles' conversation.

Read the entire The Webs We Weave series here FC69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80,81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94

#roy #rajan #uncle #teenager #engagement #divorce #blacksheep #fleece #ethekaappam #keralasnack #tea #brokenengagement #elope #love #youngadultfiction #keralachristians #syrianchristians #malayali #malayalichristians #kerala #bombaymalayalis #family #familydrama #john #sarah #rebecca #lovemarriage #hindu #johnnyandsarah #rebeccaandroy #familyvacation #spock #spockears #fishychronicles #youngadult #keralafamily #Bombay #Mumbai #phone #fiction #vacation #kissingcousins #grandchildren #grandparents #fishychronicles91 #websweweave23

Fishy Chronicles 78: The Webs We Weave (10) – Breaking point (cont'd)

Photo by A. Peter

For a few days (FC 77), Sarah chechi and I were cold to each other.

I took care to sit in her line of vision, nonchalantly looking out of the window and offering her a view of my side profile. Sometimes we’d make eye contact and she would move away quickly, her mouth tightening. After a while I didn’t take it personally because she refused to talk to any of her cousins, and when she was free of chores she disappeared.

I was angry with her for humiliating me publicly. I wanted to seek comfort from my parents, but they were likely to tick me off for being party to the girls giving Bobby the hiding of his life – even though I hadn’t touched a hair on his head. The more I thought of it, the more I felt I had asked for it.

In any case, I had no time to pfaff on narrow windowsills. Ammachi had given Sarah chechi and me more housework than the others. I was surprised when Sarah chechi buckled down to work, but some days I could see her blocking her father Georgiechyan’s path and talking heatedly.

My lack of clarity was cleared in snatches of my parents’ pre-bed time conversations. They usually talked and laughed when they thought I was asleep. I breathed evenly under my sheet, turned away from their bed, watching my parents’ shadows move against my wall – their shapes and movements difficult to decipher because of the shadow of a tree’s branches.

“Georgie is worried Sarah will do something silly,” Appa said of his oldest brother.

“Like what?” Amma said after a pause.

The bed creaked. I sensed my father trying to look at my mother in the dark. Appa said, “What has Annie chetathi* been saying to you?” Anniemama was Sarah chechi’s mother.

Amma sighed. “Sarah has been talking to Chetathi’s parents. They are not happy with her scuttling a marriage proposal, that’s why Sarah is still here.”

My father was silent. I was shocked. Sarah chechi going to her other grandparents’ home without informing the family or asking for permission was the ultimate act of disobedience.

“So, what are they planning to do?” Appa asked.

“Her grandparents have asked her to meet the boy, to talk to him. If she doesn’t like him they won’t press her.”

“Annie said that?”

“Ye-es.”

“But Georgie is like a bulldozer! Quiet and all, but won’t take no for an answer.”

“If she doesn’t like the boy, she can say no.”

“Hah!” Appa threw off his sheet and paced the floor close to the window. His shadow bobbed against the grills on my wall and then he stopped. He was leaning his head against the window’s bars.

Amma slid off the bed and joined Appa. “I’ve met the boy. We know everything about the family. They’re not poor – just less affluent than this family… it’s not going to matter to Sarah.” Amma’s shadow moved suddenly. They were in a complicated position.  It looked like she had Appa in a headlock – no, their heads were next to each other’s.

“We’re looking for someone good. Sarah should have a choice – choices that other girls are getting. A chance to study, work – a say in her life.” My father turned towards me and stared. I stared back at his shadow, holding my breath. “He may be just like every other guy – a chauvinist who won’t see how special Sarah is. A chauvinist who expects only a well-kept home and children.”

“Maybe.”

Their voices lowered and they whispered furiously. Then they went to bed. I felt frustrated at the way the conversation ended.

I waited to sleep, but couldn’t. So, finally, I sneaked out of the room. I sat on the red rexine sofa in the sitting room after moving it backwards so that it was hidden in the shadows of the sitting room. I listened to the noises of the night. There had been a burglary a few houses away a couple of nights ago. No one had known. What did it feel like to have an intruder creeping in and taking your things? Everyone had said that the family was lucky that only objects had been stolen and the family had been unharmed. I shivered and lay back to watch the moon.

******

I jumped up, my heart racing. Footsteps moved slowly – they were coming from the corridor. I slipped off the sofa and crouched next to the book case, gently moving the curtain over me.

I didn’t think it was my cousin Mobby. He had not been to visit Sonimol chechi for some days. I held my breath – it was Sarah chechi. She was in the old kurta she slept in and came forward hesitantly. I held myself as tightly as I could in a ball and squeezed my eyes shut. But nothing happened for a long time.

When I did peep around the curtain, the phone was in Sarah chechi’s lap and her hand on the receiver. After much thought, she lifted the receiver and began to press the buttons.

She seemed to know the number code Appachan (grandfather) used to lock the phone from unnecessary use – and to control his phone bills. The dial tone sounded in the clear silent night, but no one picked up. I felt suffocated by the dusty curtain, but my heartbeat pounded hard in my ears as I watched Chechi. She cut the line and tried again. And again. And again. Finally, she put the phone on the side table, crumpled over and began to cry.

When she had composed herself, she tapped the locking code into the phone and walked back to her parents room, dejection showing in every line of her body.

******

Roma was sitting on a low stool in the shade of a tree, sifting through a large quantity of raw rice on a rattan tray. Most of the girls were weeding or sweeping the area around the house that did not constitute the fields – almost two-thirds of a football field.

The girls were angry because Roma and Rita had escaped punishment, while the rest of us were given more chores – apparently to sear the gravity of our crimes into our souls for eternity. We believed their roles in Bobby’s hiding were ignored because Joychayan, their father, was our grandfather’s favourite son, and, hence, Joychayan’s children were Appachan’s favourite grandchildren.

It was what the adults felt too. If Appachan had to go to the market and choose between his grandsons, it was a given that Rajiv would be chosen. In a way, it assuaged some of my bitterness – at least, Mobby and Bobby weren’t Appachan’s favourites. It also meant Rajiv spent most of his time with his sisters and female cousins because the guys teased him mercilessly and left him out of their activities.

Today, Nina and Shyla were washing several buckets of clothing. Normally the clothes were washed by the servants. Over our last few vacations, Ammachi had begun to make the girls wash their own clothes. We had to know the A-Z of housekeeping and our mothers weren't teaching us enough, she told us often. But this week, we had been made to wash the entire household’s clothes in turns, despite our bitter protests. Roma and Rita were given light chores. Yesterday they disappeared for much of the day. When they appeared, Appachan asked them how the movie was and we realised Joychayan had taken his family out to watch a movie.

It stunned the rest of the family and there was a sudden silence in the room. This was unusual behaviour and there seemed to be a malaise seeping into the household. For once, I had nothing to say. My best friend Roma was a treacherous traitor. I fumed silently, but my cousins vented to their parents.

“You got away with murder,” Nina raged at Roma (see why here).

Roma flicked a small stone out of the rattan tray with her index finger, ignoring Nina. I was pulling out weeds in a corner of the yard and stopped to watch my cousins. Both Nina and Shyla threw the washing into the buckets and stood over Roma, shouting at the top of her head. Rita fled into the house. But there was no response from Roma and the finger continued to flick out impurities in the rice at a steady pace.

All of us stood dumb. The silence was broken when Ammachi came to the kitchen window and yelled at us to get back to work. When Ammachi disappeared, Nina began to pull out soapy clothes from one bucket and threw them into an empty bucket. She kicked the bucket under the tap and watched the water gush.

“What are you doing?” Shyla said.

“I’m rinsing them.”

“You haven’t scrubbed the clothes.”

“Who cares. I’m not going to wear them.”

“But, but, but… the dirt will show!”

“Not immediately.”

Shyla moved closer, whispered in Nina’s ear and glanced at Roma. Nina shrugged her shoulders, punched the soapy clothes a few times – ostensibly an effort at rinsing them – and let the water run out of the bucket. She looked up and summoned me with her index finger. She eyed the clothes and her gaze turned to the clothesline across the back yard. She wanted me to hang up the clothes. I took one shirt and squeezed. Suds oozed like a white waterfall. I looked up at Nina chechi, but she smiled and pointed at the clothesline.

“Just hang it up, mol,” Nina said. Don’t bother to squeeze out the water. Let’s see how long it takes to dry, she mouthed and grinned, pointing at Roma’s downturned head and giving me a thumbs up. Though her head was still down, Roma’s body was stiff. Her index finger had stopped moving.

At first I was bothered, but then I thought it was diabolical. Unless Roma squealed, it would take the family some time to realise how little cleaning their clothes got. I began to hang up the dripping clothes. During Kerala’s monsoon, and in our closed airless home, clothes usually took two days to dry in the store room. This was going to be longer now.

In about 10 minutes, Nina, Shyla and I put all the clothes on the clotheslines. One line broke a couple of times with the weight of the wet clothes and finally we draped some of the clothes on the sides of the well, weighing the clothes down with large rather muddy rocks.

******

Over the next few days, the girls practiced covert disobedience. We did all our chores quickly and, inevitably, badly. If reprimanded, we stayed quiet or admitted to our mistakes. At first, Ammachi looked at us suspiciously and our mothers gaped in disbelief, but as time went on Ammachi began to forget what she was angry at us for. But she got tired of the shoddy work, and the extra chores stopped. It amused our mothers, who watched but didn’t give inputs.

I did get lectures about insolence and how I would get my just desserts one day, but finally Amma let it go.

Sarah chechi didn’t start talking, but as the day of the meeting with her prospective suitor approached she fought with her parents. Everyone chose to stay silent and kept out of the way. She didn’t give me a look and it troubled me, because now my embarrassment had worn off and I really wanted to be in my cousin’s good books again.

After my parents went to bed, I lay awake. I looked at the clock on the table – 12.35am – I heard a door open. There was one very large room abutting both our and the Mathans room – Georgiechyan’s. These several weeks I had never heard anyone from that room come out at night, except for my uncle and aunt. 

I waited until the footsteps fell silent and as gently as possible opened my door. I nearly died of fright, closing the door immediately. I saw Sarah chechi pass, taking very slow steps. I had shut the door while she was turning around to look and stayed pressed against the wall near the hinges.

I almost pissed when the door started to inch open. It was too late to dive under my sheet, under which I had arranged two cushions. I held my breath, squeezing my eyes shut in terror. Just then my father coughed hard and turned on to his side, and the door jerked shut. I threw myself onto my bed and scampered under my sheet, curling and staying still. Sarah chechi ran back towards her room and the footsteps stopped. My father’s shadow sat up and refused to lie back down. After an eternity he did, and in a couple of minutes began to snore.

Sarah chechi began to move along the corridor again. When the footsteps passed, I lunged for the door and peeped out. Sarah chechi disappeared from view at the end of the corridor. I ran towards the street light coming through the sitting room’s windows. She slid back the bolts of the front door without a sound – the results of my earlier diligent efforts (FC 70).

Sarah chechi was carrying a knapsack over one shoulder and walking quickly to the gate. I watched numbly as she opened the gate. When she was on the road, I grabbed a pair of slippers strewn near the front door and tried to walk lightly over the gravel. Despite this, it sounded like someone was crushing glass in the still night air. Sarah chechi was now near the sagging portion of the barbed wire fence, further along Appachan’s property.

She slipped into the field and disappeared behind a tree. In a few minutes she reappeared and started hurrying back – minus her knapsack. Once on the road, she looked around and broke into a run towards the house. I removed my slippers and raced back into the house to my bedroom door and waited. I heard the crunch of the gravel outside and then Sarah chechi’s shadow rushed into view through the sitting room’s open doorway. She closed the front door, slipped the bolts back into place, and tiptoed back to her room.

* Chetathi means older brother’s wife in Malayalam.

– Stay tuned for more of Sarah in the next episode.

******

This fictional series follows the narrator who is remembering events that occurred during a family vacation in Kerala, India, in her childhood. The Webs We Weave series begins with episodes FC 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94

 

Fishy Chronicles 77: The Webs We Weave (9) – Breaking point (cont'd)

Photo credit: A. Peter

We sat in the shade of a large tree in my great uncle’s courtyard, the heat and sweat adding to our stress. The older girls discussed what had happened, explored explanations and excuses, raged at Bobby the Brute and then slipped into silence.

Strangely, I wasn’t too bothered. This was an average day for me, though I was pleased my cousins had given Bobby the hiding of his life. Not for a moment had he thought his sisters would have had the courage to set him straight and how! (FC76)

I went to the back of the house and scratched the goat’s head. I wondered why someone would name their goat Petty. One of Appachan’s older brother Kunjappachan’s grandchildren had named the goat, and had been too young to know what it meant. Aju called the goat Petty because it liked to be petted. It didn’t have a petty bone in its body. It was sweet and gentle and ate everything in sight, including money. Unusually, Kunjappachan once gave Sarayumama a cash gift and, after leaving her uncle’s house, stood out of sight of the windows to count his generosity.

The story goes that the resting goat got up, plucked one of the notes from Sarayumama’s hands and gobbled it up. It took her a couple of seconds to register what had happened before she screamed, dropped the rest of the notes, pounced on poor Petty and tried to pry its mouth open – which is like opening the jaws of an inert crocodile. Mathan Uncle was conflicted – help his wife retrieve a masticated note or pick up the money on the ground. He chose the latter because by then her cousins had come out of the house and pulled the goat away from Sarayumama. My aunt wailed so much that Kunjappachan gave her another note to replace the one she had lost.

I decided to go and see what was happening with Sarah chechi. “You stay right here,” Shyla said.

“Why?”

Nina and Shyla, my older cousins, looked at each other blankly and then Nina said, “Because we should all be together when we have to go back and face them,” she tilted her head to indicate my grandfather’s house.

“I’ll be there when you face them. I’ll just come from the other direction.” I began to walk away.

“Don’t let anyone know we’re here,” Shyla said when I reached the road.

“They’re going to know when Kunjappachan returns home,” I didn’t turn because the girls and their complaints jarred my senses.

Except for the occasional vehicle on the main road, there was no noise in the village. The only sounds were of birds talking to each other or sometimes, if you listened for it, the movement of the river’s water.

I slowed as I reached my grandfather’s house, all was silent. The front door was open and there were people in the sitting room. The silence felt suspicious.

I climbed into the field adjoining the house from a spot where the barbed wire sagged, I had seen the workers come in this way, and darted behind the trees and got into the compound through the side entrance. I hugged the walls and crept along until I was near the Mathans’ room, from which a great deal of noise was coming.

“Those girls! Ammachi, you’ve got to deal with them firmly,” Sarayumama said. Her voice shrill and somewhat hoarse. I swatted away the idea of her voice leaving her this vacation. So far I had only seen this happen in the movies. And with my aunt’s luck she and her voice would bounce back brilliantly.

Ammachi murmured soothingly. In the background Bobby groaned. I felt fear creep over me but still crept closer to the open window. Through the worn half curtain stretched across the bottom of the window, I could make out my cousin lying on his parents’ bed and people sitting or standing around him, the stance of their bodies serious.

I crept towards the front of the house, but lost my nerve, so I turned and ran to the kitchen and slowed. Sonimol chechi, our servant, usually sat on the steps during quiet moments. Today she was not sitting here. With all the girls absconding and Ammachi and her daughters bent over Bobby, Sonimol chechi was probably neck deep in work.

As I moved I wondered if I was being foolish and courting more trouble. If the family caught sight of me, they’d immediately brand me the leader of the pack because I had broken Bobby before and he had it in for me bad. I stopped at the study window. Only the neighbours next door would be able to see me, but my great uncle and his family were sitting in my house now. Through the trees on both properties, I could see my cousins standing and watching me.

I leaned against the cool wall and parked my bum on the narrow ledge that ran right around the house. There were low murmurs coming from the study. I pressed myself into the wall by the window.

“You have to get her married sometime. The family is not very well off, but the boy is smart and has a good job in Mumbai. He’s also bought a flat, that is what Ivachan said. And once she finishes her Masters, she can get a job. Nowadays everyone wants a working girl.”

I tried to peer through the curtains. I couldn’t figure out who my great uncle was talking to. Or about which cousin.

“She’s attracting a lot of attention. Kunjumol says she doesn’t do any housework and disappears when she’s told to do something. How can she just walk away like that!” Appachan said.

I held my breath. There were several people crowded in the room. A chair scraped the floor and one of the doors to the study closed with a click. “Bobby says she ordered the girls to run and locked all the doors.”

“Not exactly,” Appa said. “Bobby said some of the girls beat him and Nina and Sarah locked him in.”

“It’s the same thing!” Appachan shouted. He hated his children countering him and Appa had done more than his fair share of it. “I am sure your daughter had a big role to play in it. She’s becoming a mirror image of Sarah everyday.”

“Bobby didn’t mention her. And Sarah is a smart, sensible girl, brilliant and full of promise. You shouldn’t force her to marry and ruin her chances at life just because she wants different things in life.”

“Keep quiet! Let’s organise a meeting with the boy’s family as soon as possible. Georgie, you speak to your daughter. Make her understand she has to get married soon. Maybe all this nonsense will end. She is almost 24, old by today’s standards. She’s a bad influence on the girls. A marriage will set her right. It will set everything right. You’ll see.”

I waited for Georgiechyan’s rebuttal, but there was silence in the room.

Soon, the men started leaving the room.

                                                    ******

I stayed plastered to the wall, feeling repulsed by what I had heard. I felt a deep disappointment for my cousin Sarah.

Because my relatives perceived her as stubborn and given to new ideas, she was going to suffer for it. I thought of my father’s sister Sarojmama and wondered at the haste of her wedding. After her marriage, she had given up all plans to study further or even sit for the civil services exams, which is why she had wanted to go to Delhi in the first place. Or was it?

I roused myself and darted to the front gate. I heard someone shout, but sped down the road towards the junction. I wondered whether to tell Sarah chechi what I had heard. There was no knowing how she would react. Sometimes I was scared of her.

I slowed near the junction and groaned. My nosey second cousins, who lived opposite Kunjappachan, were stuffing their faces at the bakery and called out to me. I listened to their sarcastic chatter, but smiled and shrugged at their queries. The girl, Eenya, who had just begun college, said, “I saw Sarah chechi and some of the girls walking around the church compound. Is it someone’s birthday or death anniversary today?”

“No, Eenya chechi, they are just there to pray. I’m going to join them.”

I turned to run, but her brother Thomachan grabbed my upper arm to hold me still. “Wait. We heard a lot of shouting in the afternoon. What’s going on at the big house?” On a quiet day one could hear people quarreling in other houses. And if people stood in their courtyards, they could probably make out the gist of the argument. People usually stopped what they were doing to listen.

“There was a rat in the house, we beat it some but it escaped into one of the rooms. We don’t know where. No one wants to be in the house until it’s trapped.” I did consider Bobby a rat, and for sure Appa and Amma would consider my take on today’s happenings (FC76) a travesty of the truth – but then, who was ever going to know the truth.

“Uh-huh.” My cousins looked at me closely, but I held their gaze. Finally they nodded slowly.

I broke into a run, only slowing as I reached the tall gates of the church. The gates to heaven, Sarayumama once told me. There were some older men standing by the church offices, watching Sarah chechi and the girls. They were in the graveyard adjoining the church, walking over the graves in the crammed cemetery and reading out the names on the tombstones.

“Have you also come to check out the graves? Is it a city thing? Aren’t there any graveyards in Madras or Bombay*?” One of the men tossed at me, laughing at his friends. I didn’t know who he was, but for sure he knew my family.

I walked into the dark, cool church, light coming through the open doors and windows. I felt alone and free and at peace. I stood by the huge lamp hanging from the ceiling at the centre of the church and filled with holy oil. I prayed that only the best should happen to Sarah chechi. I dipped three fingers in the holy oil and drew a cross on my forehead.

Rita waved to me. She was holding Sarah chechi’s hand and they were leaning over a grave. I knew it was our grandfather’s grandmother’s grave. Some of her children and grandchildren were in the same grave and I sometimes wondered if they got out when it was quiet and played or talked. We stood on another grave to stare at the stone slab, reading again the names and years of births and deaths. It was a plain white slab that had grown in height over a century and a half. The original cross was cemented into the face of the grave.

“When are we going back, chechi?” I watched Eva, Tanya and Teena sitting together on a bench at the side of the church. Roma was lying on another bench, the only movement a hand fanning a newspaper over her face. She got up when she heard me and started walking over.

“If you’re bored you can go home,” Sarah chechi said. I didn’t care for the sarcasm.

“What about the others?”

“They’ll probably go home when they get the courage… or hungry,” she looked up and grinned.

“Aren’t you scared, chechi?” Rita said.

“Of what, baba?”

“Of what they’ll do to us. We beat Bobby and they will punish us for it.”

“Okay, and then what? Do you think they’ll beat us?”

“Er… n-no.”

“Shout at us?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t that what they do every day? So they’ll shout louder and try to make you more scared.”

“But aren’t you afraid?” Rita persisted.

Sarah chechi shrugged her shoulders and laughed, all her perfect teeth showing. Her face was pink from the heat and she looked beautiful. “No.”

“So why didn’t you stay back to face them?” I asked, irritated by her nonchalance.

She grinned even more, “Felt scared, for sure, but I wanted some peace of mind too.” She started jumping across the graves again.

Roma and I turned to look at the young men who had just entered the compound. They glanced at us and went into the church. One man lingered near the entrance, looking at us, and then joined his friends.

                                                               ******

He waited until the rest of the girls had gone ahead and joined Sarah chechi who was walking slowly.

“Which of your cousins is that?” I heard the deep voice say. I shivered.

“One of my Bombay cousins. Hey, you, come here, slow coach,” Sarah chechi said and I hurried to her.

“Say hello to Johnny,” I shook hands with him and he laughed. He was dark and tall and quite good looking. “He’s Thomachan’s friend.”

I nodded. Sarah chechi pointedly looked at the group at the end of the road, and tilted her head towards them, telling me to be gone. I started walking reluctantly towards my cousins. I turned to look and Johnny waved. I waved back. I waited at the end of the road and watched the two say goodbye. Johnny walked the other way and disappeared.

                                                             ******

At the house, the girls disappeared around the back of the house to enter it through the kitchen. Sarah chechi scowled at them but walked in through the open front door. I, with Rita and Roma clutching my hands, followed.

The family – with a variety of expressions on their faces – was arranged in the front room. I was surprised at the looks of sympathy from some of the older women and men, but felt fear bubble up at the rage on Sarayumama’s face. Surprisingly, Kunjappachan was still at our house. And he had a warm smile on his face.

And then we saw Bobby, in the middle of the large red rexine sofa, propped up by his father and brother Mobby. He shifted position and let out a low groan.

“Look what you did to my son!” Sarayumama shouted. “You beat him, you junglees, where do you learn these things from!” she tossed a disparaging look at her sisters-in-law, who looked back at her stonily. “Well?” She screamed at Sarah chechi.

There was pin drop silence. She came closer and screeched into our ears, “Nothing to say?” Rita, Roma and I lowered our heads to avoid looking at her. “Aren’t you going to put some sense into your daughters’ heads? Are they going to go about bashing up boys and behaving like they aren’t from good families.”

Kunjappachan made a tutting sound. “Now, now, mol. I’m sure they will get a talking to.”

“Not good enough!”

“It will do for now,” Appachan said coldly.

“B-But…”

Bobby made a snivelling sound. And Sarayumama leaped at us. She grabbed Sarah chechi’s arms and tried to shake her, but Sarah chechi looked our aunt in the eyes calmly and stayed still. Sarayumama, much shorter than her niece, shook vainly instead.

Sarayumama let Sarah chechi go. A cunning look replaced the angry one. “Don’t worry, mol. A marriage will fix your stubborn temper for good. And sooner than you think.”

Sarah chechi’s eyes widened and her mouth opened, but closed immediately.

Sarayumama continued watching her niece gleefully. “What a pity your sister is hiding in the US, else both of you would have been sorted by now. You girls don’t have any manners.”

“Don’t talk about my daughters that way! Things will fall in place when they have to,” Georgiechyan said gruffly. He stepped forward and stood between his oldest daughter and sister, forcing both to move backwards. “Go to your rooms, children. The elders will talk to you about what happened.”

Sarayumama stood with her arms spread wide, blocking our way. “That’s it? That’s all? They brutalise my son and get away scot free?”

“If he had manners and learnt how to respect women, no one would have laid a finger on him,” Nina said from the dining room doorway.

Sarayumama ran to her and managed to beat my cousin a couple of times before Nina was pulled away by my aunts. Nina began to cry and there was sudden uproar.

The children and adults were screaming and shouting at the same time and Kunjappachan and my grandparents looked aghast at what had just happened.

“Quiet!” Appachan shouted. “Stop hitting the girls. We won’t talk about this now. Control yourself, Sarayu!”

“B-but…” the sound died in my aunt’s throat. For once my aunt couldn’t find her voice. There were angry looks from the rest of the room and some of the elders blocked the dining room entrance. From the dining room, we heard Nina crying and we pushed towards her.

This wasn’t the end of the matter. There would be an inquisition. My parents were glaring at me and I could feel my spirit, so far strong, wilt.

                                                             ****** 

Kunjappachan left after evening tea. His jokes and chatter loosened his brother. We girls first hid in the dining room and later moved into various corners of the house, answering the boys questions and then discussing plausible responses to any of Appachan’s questions between ourselves.

“What’s wrong with telling Appachan the truth?” Sarah chechi said sarcastically.

“He won’t believe us,” Shyla said.

“So what? You know he won’t. So why waste your time cooking up alternatives. Tell the truth and get it over with.”

“Did you see how Sarayumama beat me!” Nina raged.

“Why did you let her? You’re an adult, why did you let her touch you. She’s half your size, by the way. You could have pushed her away or pinned down her hands.”

“I-I didn’t think… besides the rest of them would have turned on me!”

“You don’t know that. And Sarayumama has a screw loose anyway.” There was silence and then a chuckle echoed around the room.

“You can’t say that,” Nina said, weakly, smiling.

But Sarah chechi had lost interest. Her father’s head appeared at the doorway. “You girls are wanted in Appachan’s study,” Georgiechyan smiled kindly.

We filed out of his bedroom and were walking towards Appachan’s study when I heard Sarah chechi ask, “What was that bit about my marriage?”

“Later.”

“What?”

I turned to look. Sarah chechi had grabbed her father’s arms, was leaning into his face and murmuring furiously, but Georgiechyan did not respond. He pushed his daughter forward. I held out my hand, and after a couple of seconds of hesitation, Sarah chechi took it. Her face was angry.

                                                             ******

As Sarah chechi had predicted, Appachan didn’t believe a word we said. It wasn’t anything he said, but his coldness all through. Worse, he let Bobby and the others sit in and we were interrupted often. Sarah chechi looked at the others calmly and refused to be drawn in. Only because our parents were present were we saved from a thrashing. 

We were soon told to leave. My aunt and grandmother smirked and laughed, telling us we deserved it. I wondered what “it” was. The study door closed with Appachan, Sarah chechi’s parents and my father and his brothers.

After everyone left the dining room, I returned to the closed study door, feeling fearful. I heard snatches of the conversation. Appachan spoke about a boy coming to meet Sarah. He had good prospects, he lived in Bombay. Plus he was highly recommended by Kunjappachan.

Sarah chechi declined politely, citing further studies and job prospects. At this point my grandfather shouted at her, telling her she had no choice in the matter. I felt a cold wet hand on the back of my neck and a ladle sting the back of my legs. I screamed when Ammachi started hitting me harder, trying to twist myself out of her grip. The study door flew open and Sarah chechi yanked my grandmother’s hand off my neck, pulled the large stainless-steel ladle out of her hand and threw it across the dining table. She dragged me away and let go of me in the corridor.

“Why do you have to sneak about! Why? Why can’t you be a normal kid and be silly and foolish and girly, like, like, like…” she pointed, frustrated, at my cousins watching us from a corner of the sitting room.

I felt my face on fire. I stayed quiet, unable to think of anything. Sarah chechi pushed me away from her and stomped off to her parents’ room and locked the door.

I stayed still against the wall until my parents took me to our room. We didn’t speak that night. Nor did anyone speak at dinner time. 

                                                             ******

* Madras is now Chennai and Bombay is Mumbai

This is The Webs We Weave (FC69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93. 94) series and is about events that occur during the narrator's childhood family vacation in Kerala, India. 

Please note that this is a work of fiction.