Fishy Chronicles 38: In The Jaws Of A Nightmare

"Why are you creeping about in the dark?" Genie said behind my back.

I leapt into the air in the tiny corridor between our bedrooms and almost hit the wall. I felt Genie's hands steady me. My heart ricocheted in my ribcage and I wondered how long I could take this sort of stress. I turned to look at Genie in the dim light streaming in from the kitchen window, but his face was in the shadows.

"I-I-I t-t-thought I heard noises from the s-s-sitting r-room."

"Hmmm, I thought so too." He went ahead of me and ordered in a whisper, "Stay here."

I straightened. "Really, Genie! With the racket we just made, any burglar in the flat would have jumped out of the window!"

"There are grills on the windows and we'd have heard the door open or close."

"Kuch bhi."

"Plus that squeaky hinge that we have to fix. I'm sure he hasn't gone. Probably still here and hiding under the sofa."

"I doubt it!" I pushed past Genie and we wrestled for supremacy until better sense overcame me - Genie was bigger and stronger. He moved ahead, but I pulled him back and into the kitchen. I handed him the iron pestle from the kitchen platform. He snorted. I didn't care. I was giving any burglar time to escape Genie. I rummaged around the overhead drying rack noisily and felt Genie's hand hold mine still. "What are we looking for?" he whispered in my ear. I shivered.

"The rolling pin!" 

He was tall enough to look into the rack and gently lifted it out from under a load of spoons. Thus armed we tiptoed into the sitting room.

We nearly had the fright of our lives. There was a loud thud near us and I felt Genie push me hard backwards into the corridor. I fell against the wall, felt pain in my elbow but instantly jumped back into the living room.

I knew Genie was angry with me for not obeying him. But what the hell were we doing in there without a strong torch. I stamped my feet to frighten the burglar out. I felt a hand clamp over my mouth and screamed futilely until Genie said in my ear. "Stop it!"

I struggled but good sense took over again, especially when I saw what was happening in the tank. Fish were frantically zipping around. The loud sound we had heard was the fish tank lid hitting the wall behind. But when I looked closer, I saw Gregory passed out and lying at the bottom of the tank.

"What's happening to them?" Genie said, sounding distressed. I couldn't figure it out. I put my hand in the tank and tried to catch the others.

"Stop, guys. You're hurting yourselves!" I said. They bounced off the walls, were disoriented for a bit and then started again. "STOP IT!"

"I think they've had something strong," Genie said. I doubted he was joking.

"Catch them, Genie! I'll get the fish net," I ran to my supplies cabinet and pulled out the net that was enough to hold two fish. 

I returned to find Genie disturbed - what an alien look for the always-composed Genie. He had Gregory in his hand and was staring at the still body. I took Gregory from him and handed Genie the net. "Get the others. Make sure you get all of them."

He cleared his throat, "Greg..."

I massaged my little intellectual gently. One of the fish breeders I had interacted with at some point told me to hold Fish near the oxygenator if I suspected they had had no oxygen for a while. I massaged Gregory's gills and held him and a wriggling Portas against the air bubbles. I spoke to them, assuring them that we were around and they were safe. With Genie holding Penaaz and Pervez captive in the net and Dimitri in his other hand we waited.

In about 20 minutes Fish had roused and were quiet. Gregory giggled occasionally. I had tickled him to wake him and was still doing so because I wanted to make sure the knock he had had left no adverse effects.

When they looked a little like their old selves, Genie asked, "What happened, guys?" They were huddled in our palms, seeking comfort.

"I dreamt Rudy was attacking us," Gregory said.

"Rudy?" Genie said.

"The shark in the movie Jaws," there was a cry in the tank and Fish clung to our hands. They had named the shark. It wasn't Rudy, but the sharks shared the same fearsomeness and tenacity.

"That's just a movie, guys. You know what I keep telling you about watching horror films at night..." I said beginning to feel exasperated at this whole avoidable drama.

"Pot calling kettle black..." one of the fish muttered.

"... says someone who watches horror movies past midnight all the time..."

".... scares herself silly and stays awake the whole night... "

"... hypocrite..."

"... different rules for herself..."

"... she didn't sleep days when she watched IT, Annabel, Insidious..."

"... especially Conjuring..."

"... we slept with all the lights on in every room until good sense returned... and now she won't let us watch Jaws!"

"Stop it, guys!" I protested. Luckily, I was able to crawl into bed with my parents after some of those movies. I had insisted my mother hold me tight while I attempted to sleep. I glanced at Genie, he'd be useless for a comforting cuddle. "Why do you revisit the movie when it keeps reminding you of Rudy?"

Genie cleared his throat. "Who's Rudy?"

There was a collective gasp in the tank. I spoke first, "You don't know, Genie?"

"But you've been with us forever!" Dimitri said in disbelief.

"That means you don't know a thing about us!" Portas said huffily.

"Or that short-term memory business..." Gregory said.

"Really!" Penaaz huffed, giving Genie a dirty look. I would have shrivelled up at the look but I could see all of Genie's pearly whites in a neat row now. His handlebar moustache stuck out prominently from the sides of his face and his beautiful dimples dived deep into his cheeks.

"You're messing with us!" Portas hopped about the tank angrily.

I punched Genie's shoulder with my wet fist. "Really, Genie! Rudy is our arch enemy! Even if I haven't personally shaken fins with him he's the stuff of all nightmares."

Genie shrugged, "You guys want us to stay longer?" he asked Fish.

"Could we stay in your room tonight?" Penaaz said. Lady fish weren't immune to Genie's charms either.

"Sure, you can tell me more about Rudy." He rolled the tank into his bedroom and closed his door. I stood outside feeling left out. It would have been awkward to ask if I could join them. I went back to the sitting room and switched on the TV.

                                     ******

This is a fictional series about the narrator and her former pet fish and former manservant Genie. Fish and Genie have returned to Mumbai and are catching up with the narrator. 

In this episode, Fish have a nightmare and revisit old foes. 

                                     ******

Rudy the shark.

I first saw Rudy in a tank in a public aquarium. My parents had suddenly decided to go to Malaysia to visit my aunt. I had been working a year and this was my first break. I had been evasive about my trip at work, not wanting adverse or envy-tinged commentary.

"You're so old," my cousin Roma had said, while giving me a list of goodies she wanted - those days we still needed to ask family or friends living abroad to get us global branded goods. Travelling out of India was a huge thing. "You're an old person in a young person's body. Someone else would have been shouting about it till their lungs exploded." So said my cousin who never tells anyone of her travel or any plans until they are well and truly accomplished. When I confronted Roma about her hypocrisy, she said, "Who has the time for so much build up and drama."

Anyway, my parents and I travelled from Muar in Johore Baru to Singapore by bus to catch up with more relatives. One of my Chinese-Malayali cousins took us to the aquarium. We'd been there many times but it never lost its charm - the varieties of sharks, dolphins and nameless others. It seemed like magic each time we visited.

It was a hot sweltering day by Singapore standards - in those days people visited Singapore without researching the weather or caring about the heat. At the aquarium, we saw turmoil above us. People yelled in shock and cowered. Nothing of course would have happened, but a couple of times a massive reddish shark bounced into the fortified glass over our heads. It was chasing something... or things.

A small school of fish were flinging tiny objects at him. Most of it seemed to hit the shark's eyes or was sucked into its gills - the precision of the aim was remarkable. And the fish were pure idiots. They darted out together, spread immediately so that Rudy was utterly confused and then dived at his eyes, snout or body, bit into them and then raced back to the nearest stone outcrop. They slid easily into small crevices with Rudy behind them unable to slow and smacking into the craggy walls more than a couple of times. I felt pity for him - blood oozed out of his ruptured skin.

It was the strangest thing. I heard laughter - or thought I did. The overhead aquarium was almost empty now. Most fish were hiding and the ones larger than Rudy were watching from a safe distance.

After several tries, Rudy gave up efforts to corner the fish and disappeared, leaving a trail of blood behind him. It took some time for the other fish to start moving about. But those little daredevil fish emerged soon, did high-fives, torpedoed about the aquarium and then disappeared.

You know one of them - Portas. How I got him is another incredible story.

Fishy Chronicles 18: When Mount Kailash Beckons

“Who is calling you, Genie? Why don't you pick up the damn phone?”

He looked at the screen with distaste and lobbed the phone at me. I scrambled to catch it and switched it on angrily.

Too late. I stared at Genie in shock. He was sitting on the floor, stretched out, his back against a wall, his long legs in front of him and a broad smile was forming.

“W-w-what, Zeba? What was that?” She had never spoken to me in such honeyed tones. What did I do to deserve it.

“You! You!” she choked.

“Who did you think it was? Genie?” I winked at Fish. Just before Ms Z called, Genie and I had been watching Fish and Donny swim in the tub. Now they were hanging on to its rim, all ears. Or gills. Or whatever.

“What are you doing with his phone?” Zeba demanded.

“He gave it to me.”

There was silence, a shrill groan of some sort and then, like molasses, “Where is he, darling?”

“Travelling, I think.”

“You think? Where?!”

“Genie told me not to tell. He said there were strange people calling him.”

“Does he have your phone?”

“No.”

“How are you contacting him?”

“I’m not.”

“Rubbish! You two are joined at the hips!”

“I assure you we are not. Mobility would be an issue. You want me to pass on a message?”

My laughing Genie suddenly sat up straight and glared. He made slicing movements against his throat with his index finger. Hah! Like I was scared.

“He's talking about himself, you dope,” Gregory said scornfully.

“That means you know where he is!” Zeba continued angrily from Peaceful Society, Mumbai. India right now was not far enough for me.

“Yes. He's gone to Greenland... to meditate...”

“That's utter crap!”

“... something about perpetual darkness and beautiful ice maidens dancing under the Northern Lights. He sounded off. Too much meditation or the cold getting to his head maybe.”

I heard a scream and then the line got cut.

“Well?” I smiled at Genie. “What do you think?”

“The true test will be whether Zebby comes back for more.”

                                     ****** 

This is a fictional series surrounding the narrator, a divorcée who lives in the distant suburbs of Mumbai, Genie, her ex manservant, a former underworld don turned world traveller, and a school of vocal, irascible fish. They are currently travelling around Cambodia but have been tracked down by a neighbour, Zeba Bobby, who is nursing a huge crush on Genie.

                                      ****** 

We were having tea with Genie's friends on the terrace of our service apartment in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, when his phone interrupted the camaraderie resulting from a beautiful sunset, snacks and tea-induced gup-shup.

Genie silenced his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. It rang several times more, eventually silencing us all. Genie switched it on but didn’t talk. He listened for a few minutes and his mouth tightened. He cut the call.

Sunset, friends, tea, snacks and gup-shup.
(Photos: A. Peter)

He did this several times and then caught sight of me looking at him. A faint smile appeared on his mouth. The phone rang again.

“Your turn, darling.” He slid his phone on the table towards me.

I took the phone reluctantly, involuntarily  remembering Zeba's last call. I stared at the number on the phone's screen. It said Peaceful Lech – Genie's moniker for Mr Duggal, Peaceful Society's Committee Secretary. Zeba was Peaceful Witch. Strangely, in this respect, Genie and I were similar. Zeba was simply Bitch on my phone list and Duggal SickSexPest.

“Hello?” I said nervously. I absolutely hated this Peaceful Society man with his many complaints.

“Where are you?” Mr Duggal demanded.

“Why?”

“It's important the committee knows!”

“Why?”

“Because... because... because it is best practice!”

“For what?”

“You don’t have a family. We need to know if something happens to you.”

It was too funny.

“Why are you laughing! I tried your number, it’s switched off. Then I tried Genie's number and after many tries you picked up! Are you on a holiday together?”

That question again. He might have said ‘are you having an affair’ with him. Dirty-minded pig.

I said, “Last year when Mr Roy died in his flat, we didn't know for more than a month. And only because the kachdawali raised a stink about the smell from his doorway. No pun intended.”

I heard sputtering noises. “Besides,” I continued, “This invasive practice of knowing members' travel plans has to be made a Society regulation and not turned into a means for the Society’s committee to harass single members!”

“But, but, but, it’s for your own good!”

“How?”

“Er...”

“No problem, Mr Duggal, next time I’ll inform your wife of my whereabouts.” Mrs Duggal was a suspicious, jealous woman who hated all the single women and any beautiful woman in Peaceful Society or even outside its walls. I suspect she turned that way because of her spouse's extraordinary ability to swivel his head 360 degrees at the sight of the opposite sex.

“No. No. Noooo. No. No need!” he almost shouted.

“I think I’d trust Mrs Duggal with that information. I’d be sure it wasn’t shared, that I wouldn't be the butt of a joke by some dirty old men. Plus she’d probably look out for me better.”

I could hear an argument in the background. Several phone buttons got pushed and the line got disconnected. It had sounded like people arguing in the background and a scuffle for the phone.

The Peaceful Lech called immediately. I took my time answering it. I counted nine rings and finally picked up.

“Where is Genie? Where have the two of you disappeared to!” Zeba said aggressively.

Shit. It was all Zeba's doing. And I was nonplussed. Why the interest? But apparently I stayed too quiet for too long because suddenly she screamed, “Are you there? What are you doing with Genie?”

I stayed quiet until I mastered my emotions. I had to think of our friends too.

“Right now?” I asked unnecessarily.

“YES!”

“Are you sure you want to know? What did you say, Zeba? Really? It sounded like a cuss word. I don’t think you'll be able to handle what you hear.”

“Are you with Genie?!”

“You saw us leave home together. In any case why should it matter? In soul and spirit we are,” I heard giggles and a snort. I couldn’t look at the others. I needed to do this straightfaced. “Where his body goes, my soul wafts along. When he meditates, my mind immediately scouts for comfortable spots on Mount Kailash...”

“Shut up!”

“Aiyyo, Zeba, don’t be like this. I told you he’s left me his phone because mine doesn’t work. Plus meditation is required without phones. And where he is, he needn’t bother with connectivity.”

“Er, where’s that,” Zeba asked hopefully.

“He said he wanted peace...”

“Yes, he likes his solit...”

“... nirvana...”

“Yes, yes...”

“... no drama...”

“Whe...”

“... some place without me.”

“Where would that be?”

“At home. Reading the newspaper in peace, I imagine.”

I gently disconnected the call and put Peaceful Lech and Peaceful Witch’s phone numbers on Genie's auto-reject list.

I grinned at Genie and handed him his phone. “Buys you time until you come face to face with Lech and Witch. By the way, nice names both. Suits them brilliantly.”

                                    ******

No Rhyme, No Reason. US Bound - 1

Last April I packed my bags and went off to the US.

It was not a destination I quite expected to go to, previously perceiving it as a cold, expensive place that an obvious foreigner might have no business traipsing.

But traipse I did. And how.

If the US visa might have been an issue, it wasn't. I had needlessly stressed. And by the time I returned home, I had a more enthusiastic view of the country.

I did go at an awkward time for most of my friends and family - school was still on, and it wasn't quite summer. But I love the cold, like someone who knows the heat year round. And with a borrowed everything, I rambled through.

Sharing some pictures as they are the only things that will adequately express that journey.

And big hugs to the friends and family who hosted me, took me around and made it all a wonderful experience.

These are pictures from my stay in Washington DC.

At the National Museum of African American History and Culture. I deleted many photographs to create space in my phone and these are what's left. A must-visit museum. Among other details of African-American history and culture, it tracks their obsession over colouring -- a trait they share with Indians.

For instance, the paper bag test - are you fairer or darker than a brown paper bag. I saw Fair & Lovely, the fairness cream, exhibited there. An obsession with fairness products. Most distressing were the lot of the slaves and the civil rights movement. Zero rights, a life of oppression.
The Point of Pines Cabin is an entire log cabin transported and exhibited at the Museum. There are doorways and no doors and masters could enter at will. Imagine your home with no doors, and open to all sorts of tyranny.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

This is Ben's Chilli Bowl. My friend told me it appeared in many movies and serials and she hoped there was someone famous about. We looked carefully at the walls - of framed photos of celebrities who visited or had a meal there. And we met the owner, the delightful Virginia Ali, who with her husband Ben started the place. It's right next to the Lincoln Theatre.
When she realised I was visiting from Mumbai, she was excited. Her husband was an Indian from a village that is now in Pakistan. She said she had visited India many times and even told us about her sons. Imagine a mixed-race couple in the late 1950s on the brink of the civil rights movement. She has lots of fans in DC. One of them took this photo.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

National Mall. The Presidential helicopter. We didn't know it then but French President Emmanuel Macron and his wife were visiting President Donald Trump. We hung around, but didn't see the President.
With the boundary around the White House extended outwards, I didn't attempt to see the White House. Besides, getting a ticket takes months. For Indians, it means applying through your embassy months in advance. Locals can make a request, for their visiting friends, through their representatives. My friend felt her application to let me visit the WH was rejected because she was a Democrat. But apparently it's quid pro quo even if a Democrat is ruling. I found it all hilarious. Maybe another time. Maybe with a Democrat in place.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

The Washington Monument in the distance, taken from the Lincoln Memorial. If you stand closer to Washington Monument, you'll see three colours in its brickwork. Apparently the structure was built over three phases and something about not having the same kinds of bricks.
The Korean War Memorial at bottom right.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

Breakfast at Ted's Bulletin. People shared meals here. One thing I realised about the US, portions are enormous. Best to travel as a twosome. Later in my trip I started asking for child portions. But what you want to eat doesn't come in child portions. Only ice creams.
The milkshake was thick and massive and was accompanied by an even larger metal glass. After a long time I had to ask the waiter what it was. He said that it was the rest of my milkshake. Most of the guys/ladies serving at all the restaurants were so good.
I tried a food truck only once, in New York, and I was not happy. I had hoped to eat Arab food but didn't. I hoped for shawarma but settled for felafel that tasted like nothing I'd ever eaten before. My tastebuds felt messed around with. Gyro is not the original felafel!!!!
Why this obsession with Arab food you may ask. I lived in Kuwait as a child and now live in Mumbai. Even the Arab food festivals here can't get the taste right.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

Washington DC. Street scenes. (Pictures: A. Peter)

Newseum. It details the evolution of news. And the earliest newspapers displayed there dated back to the early 1600s... or earlier. It was interesting, especially for an ex journalist. The colourful wall is part of the Berlin Wall. The broken bust is Lenin's headless torso. (Pictures: A. Peter)

The red portions on the world map show how muzzled the world's press is. Green indicates free press. Yellow indicates partial freedom. The large board contains photographs of murdered journalists. Frightening.
The last two photos are of the photojournalist Bill Riggart who was first on the scene of 9/11. He didn't survive. (Pictures: A. Peter)

At Paul's, a trendy French restaurant in DC.
By the end of my trip I yearned for Indian cutting chai and normal instant coffee. And now I truly understand what jetlag is.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

Arlington Cemetery. When people die together on a mission, they share a grave because their remains can't be identified. There were so many of these graves at AC. All someone's loved ones.
Top left are the graves of JFK and his family. I don't understand why people tossed coins on their graves.
Why do people throw coins on graves? I didn't see coins on other AC graves.
People throw coins at water bodies too. They missed - going by the coins sitting on the sides of the jetty leading up to the ferries on Liberty Island.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

The very pretty town of Alexandria. George Washington lived here in his early years. It's now a very upmarket residential area.
I bought souvenirs from The Old Town Shop, which sells locally-sourced crockery, essential products, tea, honey, paintings, etc.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

Excellent food here. Tried tapas and paella. The paella was better than I thought it would be. I've seen it prepared on TV and my worry was a fishy taste coming through. The Sangria is the best I've tried so far.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

The Supreme Court. Do attend the lecture. Very illuminating. I hoped to run into Anthony Kennedy. No luck.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

Top left, the train station. United States Capitol. And the US Library of Congress.
Since I had a passport on me, we were able to attend a Senate vote meeting. What an incredible experience. Saw Senators I'd only previously seen on TV.
(Pictures: A. Peter)

An interesting mix of pulses, cereals and greens from a restaurant at the train station in DC.
I found I like ginger ale. This one is a pomegranate ginger ale. Full of sugar, I was told. I know.
I got a crash course on how to give harried commuters right of way on an escalator. Just like Mumbaikers, DC commuters run on them. I stepped on one woman's foot during peak hour. I imagine she didn't swear at me out of politeness, my profuse apologies and because, clearly, I was a tourist. All three perhaps.
In New Jersey my friends took me past a street in a hamlet called Edison (thanks for this info, Varsha) which they said had Pakistanis on one side of the road and Indians on the other. Indians and Pakistanis will know what this means. And my friends desperately wanted to eat Indian food. So we stopped at a South Indian restaurant. Most of the names on the menu seemed alien, the food looked familiar - like Tamilian marries Kannada food. Whatever it was, it was good. I couldn't recognise the vegetables in the katoris. And to finish it off, we had kapi, good old South Indian filter coffee. At this point the owner rushed out to ask how the food was and rushed back in again. Looked like the South Indian restaurants in Mumbai, except for the tables. It's usually sunmica on top in India.
(Pictures: A. Peter)