Though it was a state secret, everyone in the family got to know of Sarah and Johnny’s ‘disengagement’ (FC86) in a few days – even the youngest kids.
We had just spent awkward hours in a humid church, squeezed into an increasingly stinky crush of people there for the Sunday service. All the while people glanced our way, whispered to each other, hastily looked away when we looked at them, and either spoke with a smirk or double meanings.
Elsamama and Amma stood on either side of Anniemama, effectively fending off
questions. But then some girls approached Shyla and Nina after
church and asked. They were saved the trouble of answering when a stony-faced Sarah stepped out of that side entrance and almost bumped
into them. The girls scattered in different directions like an army of ants interrupted,
while Shyla and her sister stayed rooted to the spot in shock. Sarah raked her cousins with
a filthy look and walked past.
I
kept out of everyone’s way. It was too much tension. Today people who had seen
through me for weeks wanted to speak to me. My nosey second cousins who lived opposite
Kunjappachan’s house, Eenya and her sister Tara, blocked my way. I composed
myself – lying, or being economical with the truth, was easier when emotions didn't come in the way.
“Is
it true?” Eenya asked.
“What?”
“The
engagement is off?” Tara said.
“Engagement?”
“Sarahchechi’s
engagement to Johnnychyan!” Eenya burst out.
“As
far as I know it’s still on,” I pushed past and walked quickly to the dirt road
leading out of the church. The church had loads of money – every parishioner had
someone in the Middle East, the US, UK or Australia and the church often got hefty donations from those wanting to make good impressions – yet the road outside the church
stayed clay red and untarred year after year after year, and when it rained
there was a strong chance you would slip.
A
puddle splashed and I felt cold wetness at the back of my salwar. But I hurried
on. A hand grabbed my elbow. I started in fear, but relaxed when I saw who it
was. I started walking away from the church’s gates.
“What
does it mean? They aren’t going to get married?” Rita asked. She had been
standing a way off but must have heard the conversation with our second cousins.
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Johnnycha’s
family called and said they didn’t want to marry.”
Rita caught my upper arm and made me stop. I sighed and stood under the stoop of a shop. I
watched people go past in their Sunday whites, and slippers, unperturbed by the
99.99% possibility of top-quality slush scarring their whites for life.
Rita looked confused. She opened her mouth, but words didn’t come out. Finally she said, “He doesn't want to marry Sarahchechi?”
“Yes.”
“He
said that?”
“Ye…
er… there was a phone call. I don’t think it was him.”
“So
he didn’t say.”
“Someone
in his family said it for him.”
It
doesn’t count.”
“Yes
it does.”
“Someone
could be doing it chumma (just like that).”
“Too
serious a business for someone to do chumma.”
“I
mean… I don’t think he wants to.”
Something
about the way she said it made me pause. “What do you mean, Rita?”
She
looked around and pushed me back into the damp brick wall. “You remember
we went over to Eenya’s house for her birthday?”
I
snorted, but stilled my cynical tongue. There was no traditional payasam that Eenya’s mother was known for, but some awful cake Tara had baked. The plain yellow cake at the bakery was better. “Yes.”
“Achacha
was there.”
“Which
Achacha?
“Johnnycha!”
“What?”
“Not
at the party, but he was in a car down the road. And after a while, Chechi
disappeared. I saw her sitting in the car.”
“But... how? He's in Bombay... and... and... his family would have known! Thomachan would have known!” Thomachan was Eenya's brother and Johnny's friend.
Rita shrugged. "He was in the car with Sarahchechi."
I shook my head. It was too farfetched. No one took such risks. Not in this village at least. “Kasam se, God promise, chechi!” Rita pinched her throat with one hand and touched her head with the other, indicating that God would smote her if she lied.
Rita squeezed my arms and pushed me deeper into the wall. “Believe me, chechi, Achacha was in his friend’s car – like the car Appapa has. A white one, with big scratch marks. You remember Johnnychacha used to drive around in that.”
"Rasool?" Johnny’s friend drove a dented Padmini Premier. They spent a lot of time in the car. Apparently there was no way to enjoy the company of adult friends in this village, because even if you hid in the fields someone would see you.
"Yes."
"He was in the car with them?"
"I didn't see him."
"Er, so who drove the car?"
Another shrug.
“Yes,
but he was here last week.” She counted her fingers. “On Sunday.”
How was it I hadn’t seen them. It was impossible. But even more
impossible was the possibility of Rita lying.
“He
stopped calling on Wed…”
“Who
stopped?”
“Nothing.” No one knew about the calls. I pushed her away but suddenly Rita was pinning me against the wall.
“So they are talking!”
“Er…”
I clawed at the little fingers that were digging into my fleshy forearms.
“How
are they talking?”
“Let
me go, ouchhhhhhhh!”
She
let go, but stood on tiptoe, her small body pressing aggressively into mine – a most
determined expression on her little face. “He’s called Sarahchechi? When?”
“I’m
not supposed to say.”
My chest compressed into my shoulder blades and the damp came right through the back of my clothes. Amma would get mad
at me if the mossy bricks stained my clothes. “Come on, Rita. A secret is a secret is a secret,” I mumbled.
She
didn’t move or ease the pressure on my chest. I tried pushing her, but she jammed her feet into the ground and pressed me against the wall with her upper body and arms. This was something Roma sometimes did to Rajiv and now Rita
was doing it to me!
“Ok,
ok. He calls late at night.”
A
calculating look settled on her face, and she stepped back. “What movie are you watching?”
“Eh?”
“Which
movie?”
“A-a
s-serial. Crime programme – CSI.”
“What
time?”
I
remained quiet. That was the only 'me' time I got in our overcrowded household. I didn’t want another person to join. Rita pressed into me again, but this time I didn’t budge. But when
her index finger wouldn’t stop skewering my right kidney, I gave up, “ouch... one o'clock... ooouuucccchhhh.” I
shoved with some effort, and she staggered back.
Rita
grinned and walked to the middle of the road. “Come on. Let's go before Ammachi
comes out and thinks we're loitering.”
******
After a nice fat Sunday lunch we sat in the sitting
room waiting for the adults to leave for their afternoon naps. But the boys grabbed
the TV remote first and after watching them surf channels and laugh at their
sisters’ entreaties to allow them to watch a certain film, I walked
out. The house was stifling.
I opened
the sitting room door and looked back at the scene in the room. The long baby pink curtains
(Appachan’s choice) were billowing with the breeze coming in from the
windows, the boys were spread across all the chairs and sofas, unwilling to let
their sisters sit, the only exception being Rajiv and Roma who were squeezed
into a love seat. None of the boys were willing to toy with Roma, especially after
the chapter of violence Bobby was subjected to some weeks ago (FC76).
At this moment, I
hated the boys with all my heart. They were crude, awful to the core and I did not know
how my family favoured them. I shuddered when I looked at Mobby and Bobby,
their heads together discussing something in low tones. Idiots.
I wanted to bang the door, but that one moment of rebelliousness would unleash demons that were right now safely snoring in their beds. Why chance a typoon when you could eat a sweet chubby mango. I closed the door gently and ran around to the back of the house for the mango-lassoing pole. It lay near the shed and I hurled it over the side gate and climbed over. I ran joyfully, but carefully, through the pineapple patch, enjoying the sudden rain-induced coolness.
From a point on the property it was possible to see the river. You could hear it all the time if you stood still and slowed your breathing – a gentle whooshing sound that almost sounded like the trees shivering, but not quite.
Rita
followed me and we smiled at each other. I howled and barked, imitating the dogs in the
neighbourhood, enjoying our moments of freedom. Rita bared her teeth and yipped like our neighbour's pomeranian. We howled and yipped until we noticed a passerby stop to
watch. Another nosey idiot neighbour.
******
Past
12.45am, I peeped warily at the sofa and sighed in relief. Sarah was not there.
I felt my spirits sag thinking of how she had been forced to give up on
Johnny.
A cold hand caught my arm. I leaped backwards and hit the wall. I cowered with my arms up to protect myself, when I heard someone shush
me. I opened an eye and saw Rita. I wanted to wring her neck.
“What
are you doing here?” I hissed.
“I
want to watch TV too,” she whispered in my ear.
I was stumped. “You’ll
get into trouble.”
“Ok.”
I
glared at her, until she gestured for me to come closer. I leaned towards her lips. “What?”
“I
got a plan for that.”
“What?”
“When
anyone comes, we should run in different directions.”
“What
if they block the corridor?”
“We
can run through the study to the dining room, get to the store room and wait
there till all is clear.”
“But what if they go after only one person.”
“Then
we’re screwed.”
******
Fear didn’t deter us. We watched our crime serial without sound, trying
to figure out what they were saying, until Rita leaned into my ear and said, “We’ve
got to call Johnnychyan.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t
know. Ask him the truth?”
“How?”
“Just
ask.”
“He’ll
laugh at us and complain to our parents.”
“Ok.
I’ll do it then,” Rita straightened in the sofa and continued watching TV.
You irritating pimple. “Ok, let’s ask.”
“Deal.
You get his number from Sarahchechi.”
“Whhatttt?
She’ll bite my head off!”
“Hmm.
Ok. I’ll try and get it,” Rita whispered nonchalantly.
“How
will you do that?”
“I don’t
know. I’ll find a way. Now keep quiet and let me watch. Here. Eat this.” She pushed
a large oily ball of sugiyan into my hand. Ammachi had made the ladies cook namkeen and other eats the last few days – she was preparing to send off her children with
many goodies. The sugiyan,
filled with a sweet moong (lentil) filling, had been made fresh and would stay
a few days.
“How…
how…”
“How
did I get them? Ammachi changed the lock and Rajiv saw her hide the key under the
paper at the bottom of the sideboard.”
I had been made to clean said sideboard recently, and had lined its shelves with clean back editions of the Malayala Manorama newspaper. I eyed the little one… had we corrupted this 10-year old more than we knew?
“Eat.
Don’t drop any crumbs, or the ants will come and Ammachi will track us down.”
“Ok.
Got it.”
After
the sugiyan and the serial, too lazy to wash our hands, we wiped them on the back of a curtain in a neglected corner of the sitting room and parted ways,
promising to keep the whole day, and night, a secret.
******
This series is fictional and follows the narrator who is remembering events related
to a family vacation gone wrong in Kerala.
In this episode she comes to know, through another cousin, that their cousin Sarah had been meeting her fiancé Johnny without the family's knowledge. Johnny's family ended the engagement a few days previously.
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
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