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 36: It's Complicated

Dear Diary,

What a mess the last three days have been.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't notice. "Plus anecdotes."

"I don't know any."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of what?"

"The book idea."

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

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

                                         ******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"... ******* bad influence..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

I laughed before I could stop myself. 

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

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

"What do you mean?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just drown her," Penaaz said forcefully. 

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

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

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