Fishy Chronicles 61: Cooking The Goose

Photo credit: A. Peter

Genie got out of his room. We stood transfixed and then we smiled, but he ignored us and walked quickly to the front door and left.

I had tried to offer him breakfast, but hadn’t been able to get the words out. Anjali and I rushed to the door and looked through the peephole.

We saw my voluptuous neighbor Zeba, who was madly in love with Genie, intercept him. Now Genie was smiling and looked like he had never been a sourpuss in his life. Zeba moved closer to him. She was wearing another low-necked caftan – yellow with small blue flowers.

“Seriously, what has Zeba got that we don’t?” Anjali said, trying to get a better view.

“Mountainous boobs and oodles of charm,” I said. It bothered me that a minute ago Genie had been cold to us and here he was cultivating the enemy in the corridor… barely two feet away from my door.

“How does Zeba always know when Genie’s going to step out of the flat?”

“Sixth sense… spying from her peephole.” The same way Anjali and I had spied on our early teen crush Tony Mascarenhas. The strapping stud had been three years older than us in school, and we had watched and stalked him for years, even after he had had a string of girlfriends. Now he was married to a beautiful homemaker, had three pretty children and was a VP at a tech company. Sometimes we pulled out the school photo, that I had flicked from my cousin Rajiv’s school album, and we’d wonder what we saw in the then hairy teenaged Tony. We had moved on, but we still envied Tony his perfect life.

“You don’t say,” Anjali said with a trace of sarcasm. “She’s not even wearing a face mask. Neither is he. What do they think, their love will fob off the virus?”

“Can you do a revenge character in your next book... with Zeba as the villain, please.”

“What will that get you?”

“Salvation.” I pushed Anjali aside to look again. Genie had turned and was moving down the stairs.

“I doubt it. It’s a rare sort who can recognize salvation when it hits. You, my darling, are not that person. Come on, let’s see where he’s going,” Anjali moved quickly to the sitting room windows.

We watched Genie walk out of the building. A woman from the opposite building waved a dishcloth at him, smiling shyly. He nodded her way. A couple of women stepped out from ground floor apartments and chatted with him, he stopped to talk and then looked up. We were caught unawares. But not for long. We waved at him and blew kisses, but he looked away and the women with him glared at us. We continued to send noisy kisses and waved a small table cloth at them.

I looked up and caught Aunty Glory watching us from behind her potted plants and through the haze of cigarette smoke. I waved at her and she slowly raised an arm.

I moved back into the room, embarrassed at being caught trying to bully Genie.

“Are you mad? Do you think anyone can bully Genie… you of all people? But yes, we can piss off a saint if we want to.”

“Aunty Glory hates me bothering Genie… such a soft corner for him,” I muttered, peeping at her through a gap in the curtains. She stubbed out the cigarette and went into her sitting room. 

“Every woman in this housing society has a soft corner for Genie,” Anjali grumbled. She rushed into the bedroom, opened my cupboard and pulled out my father’s binoculars. He’d bought it on a trip abroad and we had spent many happy hours watching flamingoes in Mumbai. 

Anjali trained the pair of binoculars first on Aunty’s flat and then quickly moved out of sight behind the curtains. “Shit! Aunty and Uncle are watching us with binoculars from their sitting room.”

“Well, don’t be shy. Wave and smile.” I grabbed the binoculars and trained them across the courtyard into Aunty’s home. I felt shock jolt me seeing them beaming at me and I waved. Then I turned the binoculars onto the road outside our housing society. Genie was nowhere. I handed Anjali the binoculars.

                                                          ****** 

This is a fictional series about the 30-something narrator and her household, comprising a former man Friday and pet fish – both back from travelling the world.

                                                          ******
In the last month the spread of the corona virus was termed a pandemic and looking at the way it had decimated populations worldwide the Indian government announced a lockdown. We had been prepared and despite challenges, fresh milk, vegetables and fruits were available. 

I had also begun calling Aunty Glory and Uncle John every day. I needn’t have worried. Peaceful Society’s committee had swung into action and many of the buildingwallas had adopted an elder. I dropped off meals at the Gonsalves's door everyday and chatted for a bit standing at a safe distance.

But we were now stuck at home with Genie, who refused to respond to notes slipped under his door and awesome mutton curry. I had never known Genie to be so angry. And I felt like a real jerk. We heard music come from his room, sometimes some banging, and every now and then he stepped out to grab a book or the broom and dustpan. Often, when we came face to face, he’d flick the untidy living room or bedroom behind us with a disdainful look that screamed “PIG!” and would then turn and disappear into his room.

“How long can he stay cooped up in there?” Anjali asked me several times. His anger was unsettling and unfathomable. She had written him messages, stood at his door and apologized profusely. She stopped when the music’s volume was turned up. Plus, Fish were annoyed with us. They did not talk to me for a day, angry at our nosey behavior (A Step Too Far).

Anjali put the binoculars on the coffee table, pushed it to the side of the room and spread herself on the cool floor. I sighed. “Do you have a deadline, Anjali? Will this lockdown affect it?”

“No. I mean, I do have a deadline, but it isn’t immediate. And I don’t know how I will go for my meetings, or pay the ladies who clean my house.”

“I meant the writing…”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

I dialled Aunty Glory's number. “Yes, my dear,” Uncle John picked up.

“See anything interesting through your binoculars, Uncle?”

“Plenty. Don’t you have enough of Genie at home to continue spying on him when he leaves?”

“Can’t have enough of him.”

“I’m sure. Why did you call, my dear?”

“Do you need any groceries, detergent, etc, etc, etc? I’m making my list.”

“Right. Anyone would be irritated with you for going through their personal belongings,” I froze. “You’ve got to let Genie be for some time.”

“Er, he told you?” I felt mortified.

“I think you’re taking him for granted. He’s not your man Friday anymore, doesn’t work for your parents or anyone. He’s his own person… always was.”

“Er.”

“I’ll write the list. But I’m surprised at you two, my dear. Especially at you.” The phone went dead.

In all my 30-something years, this was the first time Uncle John had scolded me – a kind, non-shouty scolding. My face and ears burned at the idea of Genie confiding about our evil deed to the Gonsalveses. 

But what did I expect, they were good friends.

                                                         ******

Fishy Chronicles 60: A Step Too Far

We tried calling Genie, but he didn’t pick up his phone.

“Do you think he’s left?” I asked Anjali.

“Left where?”

“I mean, gone. Taken his stuff and left.”

“Let’s check his room and see if his things are still here.”

We did the unthinkable and went into Genie’s room. I rarely entered this room, even though I was tempted. The room was extremely neat. Tidy paperless surfaces, with no personal belongings outside. A pink-themed patchwork bedspread my mother and I had made for Genie covered his bed.

Anjali gingerly tried the door handles of the cupboard nearest the door. It was locked. “Don’t you have extra keys for these cupboards? They usually come in doubles and triples.” She looked at me hopefully.

“Why isn’t there a mirror here?” Anjali said absentmindedly, drinking in the entire room.

“Oh. One of the cupboards has a mirror on the inside of the door.”

“Do you think that’s where he keeps all his toiletries and things?”

It was like the room had no character… save for the picture of my parents, Genie and I in happier times. The photograph was in a slim silver folder, the kind that could be propped up, kept in a pocket or slid into a briefcase. I’d never seen anything like it in India. I picked it up and stared at my parents. A lump soon formed in the back of my throat and my eyes blurred. Anjali took the slim picture frame from my hands and set it down and her arm went around me.

                                                                 ******

This is a fictional series surrounding the narrator, her parents’ former man Friday Genie and Fish. 

The narrator and her friend Anjali are unable to contact Genie and enter his room to see if he has packed and left. Unfortunately, they get carried away.

                                                                 ******

Then she went and tugged at the handles of all the cupboards. The ones without key holes opened, revealing Genie’s toiletries, clothes and other things. “If he keeps his clothes here, what must he be keeping in the locked cupboards?”

That was an interesting question, because there were two tall cupboards with locks and one short cupboard with a lock, in addition to a locked steel almirah.

“He only wears white t-shirts…” I said.

“… white t-shirts and jeans. And how many cupboards of white underwear can a man have? I think the cupboards are empty.” She went up to them and knocked. We couldn’t figure out if the sound was hollow.

“Well, looks like all his clothes are here. Nothing has gone. Maybe we should check the shoe rack.” I opened a drawer in his table. Stationery was neatly organised, instantly putting Anjali and me to shame.

“I really want him to be my housekeeper,” Anjali mumbled. “And I want to bonk him.”

“Me too. The tidy part, for the most part.” Except for the numerous bumps in my life, I had not seen anything ruffle Genie. That included the running of a household. If he didn’t know cooking when he first entered our home, he did by the time my parents left this realm. The only plus was I was a better cook.

“You know, geniuses are like this. Everything in neat rows. Look at this,” Anjali picked up a box of paperclips. “I bet the clips are in neat rows, spooning each other.”

“Okay. Open it.”

We opened it. There were a couple of coins in them. We stared at the Queen Victoria half anna. There was another coin in it, but I slapped Anjali’s hand away from it.

“What did you do that for!”

“We’ve poked around Genie’s things too much. We have no business doing so. Come on!”

“Yes, Miss Potty-Calling-Miss Kettley-Black. Where to?”

I walked to the sitting room. Fish were arguing on the phone. I stopped. It sounded like they were speaking with Genie.

“When will you be back?” Penaaz asked.

“You’ve got to come back,” Pervez said plaintively.

“Who’ll keep order here? And we may run out of food… or toilet paper… or just… things,” Portas said.

“You can’t stay away for long, old man. That Danny business fizzled out long ago. Uncle Joy was a tiresome old fart. A tiresome, game-playing, manipulative old fart. Fortunately, our little one hasn’t inherited any of his genes,” Gregory said.

“Please come back, we’re worried sick. Besides the girls will be alone. What if things get worse… TV news sounds worse by the hour. It’s safer for you to be here at home than outside. Please come back soon!” sweet gentle Dimitri said.

“He’s so annoying and stubborn,” Penaaz grumbled.

“Yes. How rude of him to cut us off while we were speaking,” Portas said.

“I don’t think he had a chance to speak at all, with us yammering and cutting him off every time he spoke,” Gregory said.

That silenced Fish. I moved into the sitting room, wondering why Anjali wasn’t with me. I sighed in frustration. She was examining the other coin in the paper clip box and taking a picture of it. “Anjali, stop that!”

“Stop that, you! You nearly gave me a fright,” Gregory shouted. I could see Fish hold their hearts, panting in shock and pressed into the sides of the fish tank.

“Er, sorry, guys. Do you have any idea when Genie will be back?”

“No,” Penaaz said.

“Did you call him?”

There was a long pause. “No,” Gregory said, looking at the top of my ear and adjusting his glasses. I looked at the other fish, each one of them was acting innocent.

They had learned well the fine art of fingering. It didn’t take a lot. I felt my piss fizz. I wondered what it was. Did they think I only needed to know on a need-to-know basis. Or I was just a helpless useless nut that needed to be manipulated like a puppet whenever they wanted. I screamed shrilly in my head, glaring at them all the while. Idiots!

I looked behind me. Anjali was now sitting on Genie’s bed and looking through a notebook. She then lifted a pen, that looked… my God! I sprinted into the room and grabbed the pen from her hand. “It’s a f****** Mont Blanc. What the eff! Do you think it’s real?” I put the pen to my nose and sniffed.

“Eek! Do you have to smell everything, you crackpot! What if he used it to scratch his balls.”

“Why can’t he just use his hands like everyone else?” I said, still looking closely at the pen. It looked like an original. I’d bought a couple of fakes at the Russian Market in Phnom Penh last year. And I had eyed the originals often enough at the mall. The markings seemed right. I pulled off the cap – it was a fountain pen. “You know, I have never seen him use this pen.”

“Maybe he has a secret journal he likes to write in with a special pen. There are some books and diaries in this larger drawer here. Shall we look?”

“I think we should stop touching his things. He may figure out we’ve been rifling through them. Do you think he’s one of those people who remembers the way he leaves a book or pen in his drawers?”

“I imagine you mean the drawer in this table and not the other type,” Anjali smirked. I felt exasperated but also strangely, and reluctantly, titillated. Anjali shrugged and sighed. “Yeah, I think he’s the sort who’ll remember what went missing and who’s touched what. I better put it back in his journal.”

“Journal? Give me that.”

“Don’t know if it is one.” She showed me a green moleskin diary. It looked like it had been well thumbed, and the sides of the book and pages looked grimy, though they were blank. Most of them. Some had words that didn’t make sense.

I had a sense of foreboding. “Put it back exactly the way you found it, Anjali.” I pushed the pen and notebook into Anjali’s chest. “We have no business touching Genie’s things. Put it back, put it back now!”

“Damn right you shouldn’t be touching my things. Put them down and get out of my room. Now!” Genie said coldly from the doorway. I felt Anjali gasp and I shrank into her, feeling intense shame at our actions and being caught. Anjali pushed me and we stood. She put the pen and book on the table and we walked slowly to the door.

“Very sorry, Genie. We didn’t mean to,” Anjali said.

“But you did.” He moved to the side of the doorway to let us pass, then went in and locked the door behind him.
                                                        ******

Fishy Chronicles 59: The Escape

I chafed. Fish were annoyed at me for not reeling in my anchor and sailing away. Our war of words had attracted attention and Joy Uncle cleared his throat many times before losing his temper.

“Next time keep your fish at home!”

“There’s no next time,” Portas muttered from the fish tank.

“Yup,” said the lovers, treading water beside Portas.

“Next time, next time, so many promises. Yet we dust off the mobile tank and come here every time Uncle orders you to. We should stop visiting, my dear,” Gregory gritted his tiny teeth. 

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, but I still wanted to finger my father’s brother. “Hard to do now, Uncle.”

“Why?”

“Because you chased away Genie – the one person who would feed and take care of Fish. Now I will never be able to stay here overnight. Either they are here with me or we are not here at all.”

There was a groan from the tank and the water swished menacingly. “Oh, please say we’ll never come back!” Pervez said, actual hope coming through in his voice. He had been in a state of distress since Genie left (Uncle’s Man and The Unravelling). 

“Shhh!” I couldn’t hear myself thinking.

“Don’t shush me!” Uncle roared.

“Umm, I wasn’t telling you.” I had meant Fish, but I couldn’t say it out loud. Fish chuckled and moved closer to the glass wall to get a better look at Uncle.

He was a sight. He was turning pink, and his patrician face was screwing up painfully. What a pity – he was such a handsome man when he smiled.

“Were you telling your fish?” he spat out. I stayed silent. “Why are you silent! Be bold and say what you think!”

“I was telling Fish to keep quiet.”

“Next you will say the moon is maroon.”

“No. But… you just said it.”

I don’t know where the swear word came from, but my best friend Anjali, Danny and my cousin Rita laughed despite the angry noises coming from the relatives gathered at Joy Uncle’s house.

My great aunt Beasty tore into me. “You are a horrible, horrible child.”

“Idiot!” my cousin Rajiv shouted and I bristled. 

“Shut up, you!” I howled at Rajiv.

He ran towards me aiming his hand at my face, but he exclaimed in terror and fell flat on his face. There was a moment of pin-drop silence, and then absolute commotion. Beasty got up and was confused about whether to come and hit me or peel her much-loved nephew off the floor. I couldn’t figure out what had happened. It seemed like someone had tripped Rajiv, but the ones closest to my cousin had been his sister Rita and… Danny.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Come on, this is our chance. Let’s run for the door!” Fish shouted.

“Come on!” Gregory said, “Let’s go before they figure out we’re missing.”

I tried to release the brake of the wheels of the fish tank, but the lever was stiff and suddenly I felt the light dim. I turned and stepped back hard into the book shelf behind me. Uncle's face was red and angry and I thought he was going to hit me. I raised my elbow to ward off a blow. A couple of seconds later, I looked up. He had a faint look of surprise on his face and had moved back a tad. “You are not leaving. You are staying until I say you can leave!”

“Tell him that we’re going!” Pervez shouted. Penaaz tread water, but did not restrain him.

“Got to go, Uncle,” I said.

“Because of Genie?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I need to ask him when he’s leaving. I’ll have to help him pack.”

There was silence in the room.

“That’s interesting. Do you always help him pack for his trips?” Uncle said, barely hanging on to his temper.

“If Genie is to leave as soon as you want him to, he will need my help.” I heard Anjali laugh. I could see Beasty and Rajiv glare at Anjali, but they were too afraid of her to react more.

“As long as this is the big goodbye, he can take his time. He’s got the weekend.”

“I don’t know, Uncle. You’re always on his case. He might cry, and I’ll have to help him blow his nose.”

“You are not going home and that is final!”

The angry words reverberated around the room and much as I wanted to retort I couldn’t. I was too embarrassed all this was playing out in front of an audience.

I pressed against the handle of the bookcase trying to keep a distance between Uncle and I and felt the pain between my shoulder blades intensify. I looked at Fish, my eyes filling and finally my tension spilled out in tears.

“Idiot,” a voice said. “You made her cry!”

“Who said that!” Uncle shouted in the silence.

“You keep asking… and I keep telling you… you’ll never know, you pig!”

For good measure, water hit Uncle in the eye and he moved back in a hurry. He opened his mouth angrily and his hand moved impulsively to the door, but then I started smiling and his mouth closed and his arm went down.

“You will stay here and help Elsa in the kitchen!” Uncle growled, turned around, glared at everyone, especially at Anjali, and went back to his armchair.

                                               ******

This is a fictional series about the narrator, her parents’ former man Friday and Fish. The narrator is trying to escape her Uncle’s house but he has foiled her plans. Fish decide something more drastic is needed.

                                               ******

When there was a lull in the conversation, someone switched on the TV. I stood in the kitchen’s doorway feeling stressed.

It felt like Uncle had elaborately planned to introduce me to a potential suitor – Danny – and insult and drive Genie out of my home. Uncle had made me the laughing stock of the family. Why was he doing this? And now I was reduced to being a cook, to make up for his daughters’ unwillingness to don aprons and aid their mother Elsa.

I glared at the guests and at Uncle. He had become a monster. Why was he so angry at me?

“Come here,” Penaaz ordered. I glared at her, annoyed at her command.

“Please,” Dimitri, my favourite fish, said. My anger melted a tad.

“Please, sweetie, come here,” Portas said. “Open the lid and play with us.”

The idea of dipping my hands in the cool water, and letting Fish chase away my agitation appealed. I washed my hands at the kitchen sink and went to the sitting room and opened the lid of the fish tank. I slid my hands in and Fish rubbed and nuzzled my palms and fingers. I leaned my chin on the edge of the tank, let my hands float and listened to the TV. I could feel people watch me, but I didn’t care anymore.

“What’s Wuhan?” Portas asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the TV.

“The place where that virus originated. According to news reports, China had a lockdown to contain an epidemic. But the Chinese were too late and the virus is racing around the world and killing people at a horrific rate,” Gregory said.

I straightened. Last week Genie had topped up our grocery reserves and even stored them in the loft. I had joked about him being paranoid. “We can’t wait until it is too late,” he had said.

“We’ve never been affected – even when it was SARS, Swine Flu, etc.”

“There have been cases in India, but we were isolated in many ways. This time, I’m not so sure.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Genie put a finger on my lips. “Let’s watch the news some more and take precautions. For now, that means a mask and staying away from public spaces.”

“And you got this information from WhatsApp?”

“From the experts on TV. At worst we have food stocks for a couple of months.”

I wanted to say more, but held off. And things had worsened. I wasn’t even sure I should have come to stay this weekend at Uncle’s place. Anjali and I had tensed every time someone coughed or sneezed. Danny’s mother had a cold and Anjali and I stayed a safe distance away.

We had been watching the news and worrying about the spread through Asia, but it was spreading through Italy and parts of Europe like wild fire. I had tried to buy hand sanitizers at DMart, but staff told me it was being rationed. I could buy only one bottle. I stopped teasing Genie. Perhaps it wasn’t paranoia, but he was a middle-class hoarder for sure.

I felt a presence near me. Uncle had a strange expression on his face. I began to feel tense.

“Strange to see you play with your fish. Is this what Nigel did too?” Nigel Poonawala had given me Fish many years ago. He had owned the ad agency my ex husband had worked at but Uncle Nigel and I had made an instant connection.

“He had toys for them. And yes, he spent a lot of time with his hands in the tank,” I said reluctantly.

“Perhaps I should try. They always hide behind the bushes in the tank,” Uncle said.

“Wash your hands first, Uncle.”

“Isn’t that extreme?”

“Didn’t you make all your visitors wash their hands before they handled your newborn grandchildren?”

“Right. You think my germs can kill your fish?” Uncle smirked.

“Tell him he’s hit the nail on its head, sweetie,” Gregory said, but Uncle had moved to the bathroom and came back holding up his wet hands like a surgeon.

“Oh, no, he doesn’t!” Dimitri said and grabbed his bicycle and started cycling furiously. He flew out of the tank, somersaulted with his tiny bike and landed with a splash in the tank. The water smacked us in our faces and Uncle slammed backwards into the bookcase. It shook. I took the chance and wiped my face on his shirt.

Fish grabbed their bicycles and started somersaulting out of the tank and splashing hard into the water. They rained water on Uncle, and he cowered against the book case, exclaiming, “Aiyyo!” over and over again.

“Run, run, run! Let’s get out of here,” Gregory shouted.

I bent and pulled the lever hard. This time it clicked and I could feel the tank roll forward slightly. “Get in, get in, get in!” I shouted at Fish and wheeled them into the sitting room.

I saw my relatives watch me in shock, but Rajiv started running towards me. This time Danny stood up and blocked his way. I didn’t wait. “Anjali!” 

She was at the door, helping me lift the tank over the doorstep. I slammed the main and security doors shut and Anjali jabbed the lift button frantically. The flat’s door opened, and I could hear Uncle, Beasty and Rajiv shouting, children screaming and furniture toppling. “Run, you two, run!” Rajiv’s sister Rita shouted.

The lift's doors opened, and we pushed the tank in and the doors closed. We breathed hard, holding our chests.

“Shit!” I said, feeling my heart hammering all over again. “Shit, shit, shit! I left my bag and keys upstairs.”

“No, we’re good.” Anjali pulled the strap of my bag she had slung across her chest.

“Our luggage?”

She grinned. “I asked Aarav and Aditya to put them in the car without their mother or anyone seeing. I thought it best to be prepared. Aditya was upset at the thought of you going, but after that stupid lunch session he was amenable" (The Unravelling).

Bless my darling nephews. I’d be baking them a nice fat chocolate cake when they came around next.

We got the fish tank into the car. There was no one chasing after us. But when I looked up at Uncle’s window, he was staring at me angrily with a furious, blabbering Rajiv beside him. I stepped on the accelerator. I’d figure out the consequences later.
                                               ****** 

Fishy Chronicles 58: Fishy Business

“Psst. Stop pfaffing around and leave immediately,” Penaaz hissed at me from the fish tank in the corner of Joy Uncle’s sitting room.

I was seated near the tank now, trying to figure out a way to leave. I was damned if I was going to cook dinner for this lot. Everything was ready except for the pulao, which Roma was supposed to cook but now was insisting her sister Rita make. That meant there was a high probability we could be eating a traditional Malayali meal with bread, instead of rice, and the presence of too many rogue elements at the dinner table meant the meal would be anything but satisfying.
                                      ******

This is a fictional series revolving around the narrator, Fish and Genie.

Fish have a point of view about the state of affairs and insist on action.   

                                       ******

“You’ll have to get going before Aunty begs you to make the pulao,” Gregory said. He swished along the front of the tank, trying to find a better vantage point. 

Fish had watched the proceedings of the previous few hours with great interest. It had proved to be better than a Bruce Lee movie – my sweet-sour tryst with Danny, a potential suitor, a fractious lunch with assorted family, some mosquito bites and more infighting at tea time. I felt sorry for my aunt. Elsa Aunty looked worn out, and she had a bunch of beasts as house guests.

“You should have left as soon as you realised Genie was gone,” Pervez said. He was in a corner, his back to me, beset by abandonment anxiety. He said accusingly to the glass wall in front of him, “But your family is more important to you than Genie.”

“Especially when they are no good for you,” Penaaz, the more outspoken of Fish, groused.

“You’re being harsh,” I said.

“Not what I heard,” she gestured with a fin at the family massed in front of us.

“Please stop.”

“Genie hasn’t responded to our calls. By the time Nobby flies back to the house, it might take a few years – he can only fly so much. Why didn’t you just latch on to Genie’s ear and stay with him, Nobby? You could have kept track of him for us,” Portas said annoyed. Nobby, our mosquito friend, was sitting on my collar. He had been quiet and thoughtful for the last few hours, except while biting those of my relatives he despised.

I turned my head to look at Dimitri. He was my favourite fish, but right now he looked sad. “Dimitri?”

“You need to go back. Find an excuse, like a neighbour called to say there’s the smell of gas at your place. Got to leave in a nice way.”

“Even after the way they’ve been treating her?” Portas said indignantly.

“Yes.”

“You’ve got to find better family, sweetie,” Penaaz said.

I eyed her. What an easy thing to say. How did one find a more convenient family? The ones I had set me on my head and wrung me out, hurt my feelings over and over. My eyes rested on my cousin Roma and best friend Anjali. They were sitting next to each other but angry and not talking. And it was all because of me. Or rather Uncle’s machinations. But I was the easy target, so today I’d have to take the blame.

“Leave your luggage here, so that it looks like you’re coming back,” Dimitri continued. “You can come back for them when things settle down.”

“Shit will hit the fan,” I muttered. People were watching me. They knew I was talking to Fish.

“After all that’s happened, are you still thinking of staying the weekend?” Penaaz was aghast.

Her lover Pervez shot up to the top, “Get out of here fast, sweetie. They’re not good for you. And that man is making googly eyes at everyone but you! That should ring alarm bells.”

Not alarm bells, but I had noticed Danny chatting up Anjali and now Rita. I was now nowhere in the picture. Not that I minded. I did, but there wasn’t much I could do.

Nobby hovered over my collar, murmuring, “Dimitri’s right. Message Genie to stay put and you’ll be right over.”

“What makes you think he’s still there?”

There was silence in the tank and Nobby tucked himself into the back of my right ear. We continued to listen to Aunty beg her daughters to make a pulao.

I went into the kitchen and looked at my messages. Glory Aunty, our elderly friend in Peaceful Society, had messaged back. Genie hadn’t yet returned home. He had left hours ago and now I felt tense. 

I measured out the ingredients and started peeling vegetables.

Elsa Aunty came in, looked at me in surprise and then put her arms around me in a hug. She kissed my cheek, “Thank you, mol.”

She started opening the cupboards and pulling out spice containers.

I sighed. Things would have to wait. I couldn’t leave Aunty alone with these idiots.

But, a plan was forming.
                                                                  ******

Fishy Chronicles 57: Cakes And Combat

I called and messaged Genie several times but got no response. Fish were upset, but we agreed to stay quiet until we returned home. I wasn’t going to stay at Uncle’s place for the weekend. I felt taken advantage of. He had played a dirty trick on me and now I couldn’t bear to look at him even though I seethed.

Post lunch, there was forced small talk and prolonged silences. Beasty and Rajiv took jibes at me, but I had lost interest in retaliating. Some jibes later, I saw Baby Uncle glare at Beasty who then kept her mouth shut. I couldn’t believe my lamb of an uncle could quell his grizzly bear wife with a look. I had to get to know Baby Uncle better.

Listening to the murmurs, I learned more scary relatives would be turning up for dinner. 

Danny and his parents were staying as they were related to close relations – a ‘thing’ among Syrian Christians. We had to be close to in laws and their in laws and everyone in between and on the periphery – the more family, the merrier. 

My cousin Rita finally turned up and seemed oblivious to the awkwardness. She did, however, ask me about Genie.

"Your dad chased him away," I said into the sudden silence.

An evil squawk sounded and Beasty bristled, "He had no business being here!"

"So why did Uncle invite him... and to stay... especially when he knew Danny was here and none of you approved of Genie's presence!" I felt a hand grab the back of my neck and squeeze. I glared at Roma.

"Joy would do no such thing!" Beasty burst out.

"Clearly you don't know Joy Uncle very well."

"Stop being rude to your aunt!" Joy Uncle burst out.

"Which one?" I said after a pause. I heard a laugh, and saw Danny smile. Anjali gave me a thumbs up. I wasn't keen to let Uncle get away with anything... today.

"All of them!" Uncle roared.

"Strange. I'm not being rude to any of them. Just stating facts. Don't know why you're taking it the wrong way."

"Silence!"

"Er, I don't know. Kind of difficult to do in the current scenario."

"QUIET!"

I laughed. And then stopped myself. Shit, what was I doing. I felt Roma trying to haul me off my chair. Anjali jumped towards me and angrily pulled Roma's hands off my collar. 

"Stop that, Roma! She's right. Why invite us if you're going to ambush us. This could have been handled more privately, but it seems to be happening with some regularity. Like the Lonavala trip – did you have to get Genie there and insult him? He was going to get to know about Danny eventually... or anyone else you cared to pull out of your wig. Did you think he wouldn't make himself scarce if he knew? Or are you afraid he's going to make off with her heart. Why would you care? You guys stopped caring a long time ago, and you've barely made an effort to keep her close since Uncle and Aunty died."

There was pin drop silence. I grabbed Anjali. Everything she'd said was what I thought all the time. I hadn't shared it with her because Roma was our best friend. I shook my head. Please, please, Anjali. Don't say anymore.

"I have always been there for my niece," Uncle said defensively. "She has stayed away, disobeyed me... been very difficult. Never takes my advice."

"Is that why you invited Genie and me too. So we could be embarrassed in the process?" 

"That's my dad you're talking to!" Roma said angrily.

Anjali turned around. "I know, Roma. You could have warned us, but you didn't. Why didn't you?"

Roma opened her mouth and closed it. She shifted her angry gaze at me. I turned away. 

When the silence extended painfully, I felt Elsa Aunty touch my shoulder. "Mol, I need your help in the kitchen."

  

We worked silently, organising things for dinner. Elsa Aunty's calls to her daughter Rita fell on deaf ears and Roma fumed, her body stiff and angry. 

My aunt took the container of flour from Roma's hands and put it in mine. My mood lifted slightly. At least in cooking, Aunty trusted me. When Roma left the kitchen, Elsa Aunty murmured, “Don’t take things to heart, mol. Your uncle is just being himself.” Uncle had been an unadulterated jerk. I wanted to scream so at his wife, who knew it but continued to maintain he was misunderstood.

After so many years, I still couldn’t figure out I was being manipulated. I trusted too much. I hated that Uncle had dragged Genie into the mess. I had found the invitation to stay at Uncle's home suspicious, but had thought my relatives were having a gradual change of heart towards my parents’ former man Friday. Genie was now my friend – a friend who had been living with me for about a year. I had derived comfort from his presence, but my relatives thought we were living in sin.

I dreaded to think they had chased Genie away for good. I glared at Roma. She was one of my best friends, but she was also her daddy’s stooge. Invective ricocheted in the recesses of my skull – contained only by the feeling that letting loose would get me into more trouble. 

I glared at Aunty, who seemed unnerved by my silent aggression. I turned away and started mixing the batter. 

                                                                     ****** 

This is a fictional series about the Suriani*, Mumbai-based narrator. She realises she has been manipulated and embarrassed by her uncle at a family gathering. 

Despite spending much of the afternoon feeling sorry for herself, she finds a way to strike back.

                                                                     ******

I sliced the ripe plantain, ground the cinnamon and nutmeg, mixed the sugar into the batter and let my hands swim in the batter, wiggling my fingers. I usually used a spoon for this, but now I felt like annoying everyone as much as I could.

From the corner of my eyes I saw a look of disgust cross my gentle aunt's face. She opened her mouth to say something but sighed and left the kitchen.

Roma hated cooking, bogged down by her responsibilities and her disinterest in household chores. I had wanted to do a Cordon Bleu course. When I did have the courage to tell my parents, they had been agreeable. Only the thought of me going far away for some years had bothered them. They had spoken to Uncle about it and he had laughed. He had trashed my plans, pooh-poohed my ambitions and quickly painted lurid pictures of me being loose in Paris and doing a can-can at the Cirque de Soleil. If my parents had thought logically, they'd have realised their 'pumpkin princess' would never have made it even through the auditions because she was of average Indian height – she'd have qualified as a midget in France – and chubby. Several weeks later, my Uncle began to bombard my parents with marriage proposals for me. Months later, I was married at barely 23.

My marriage wasn't the only thing I had lost. In those distressing years, my parents had fallen ill and died much before their prime. Sometimes I resented my cousins for having 'live' doting parents, and I resented Uncle for my feelings of loneliness and the sense of being adrift.

Anjali had told me to get over it – that there was nothing I could do to change things. “Look at it this way. You’re free now. They have no hold over you. They only did when your parents were alive. If you switch off your phone and ignore Uncle, you can go ahead and do what you want.”

A valid point. Though I was very scared to do so initially, I sometimes didn't pick up my uncle’s calls – caller id had to be the best part about modern technology. It annoyed my uncle and I felt better. I was skirting his authority and fingering him in some indefinable way. Sometimes Uncle bested me – he used Aunty or Roma's phone.

I fried a batch of etheka (plantain) appams* and called Aditya. My five-year old nephew immediately tried to pick up a fried plantain but it was too hot. “I will give you another plate, my darling. First serve these... only,” I held his chin to get his attention, “only to Betsy Aunty, Rajiv Uncle and Appachan*? Not to Baby Uncle and the others. OK, sweetie?”

Aditya looked at me thoughtfully. Then nodded. I quickly fried the next batch and waited. A while later, Aditya came back with the empty plate. I arranged several smaller etheka appams on the plate and sent him back. “Serve these to the rest of the guests, but not to Betsy, Rajiv or Appachan. OK?”

Aditya looked confused, but nodded. I smiled to myself. After all the plantain had been fried, and served, I washed my hands and joined my cousins in the sitting room. Uncle, Rajiv and Beasty eyed me coldly. The others were still chewing and looked happy.

Anjali sat beside me, splitting the last etheka appam with Aditya. “Why are the three pricks giving you the stink eye?” she said, nonchalantly returning their stare.

“Their ethekas were special.”

“Oh?”

“Sugar-free ethekas.”

I felt Anjali turn to me, “Mine were sweet.”

I smiled at the three beasts. “I know.”

“So?”

I leaned closer and murmured into her ear, “I coated unripe plantain with plain flour and gave it a slight fry.”

“Isn’t that inedible… like next to horrible?”

“Yes.”

Anjali choked on her sweet fried plantain, laughing, and crying. She wagged her index finger at me and then quickly curled it back into her fist. She put her arm around my neck and said, “You’re an idiot. The three of them are going to get even.”

“They’ll spend all of dinner on tenterhooks, wondering if I served them shit.”

Anjali sank her face into my neck and guffawed. After she had attracted everyone’s attention, I gave her my handkerchief to wipe away the tears.

I decided to stay for dinner. I was going to have fun feeding the three goats. 

But before dinner, I had to get in touch with Genie.

                                                                     ******

Appachan (in Malayalam) – Grandfather 

Etheka appam – a sweet fried plantain dish popular in Kerala, South India

Suriani – Syrian Christians from Kerala

PS - Since I'm sitting it out at home, these Chronicles will be belted out faster. Stay tuned.

Fishy Chronicles 56: The Unravelling

Photo: A. Peter

The phone rang. Fish.

“Are you going to take the call?” Danny asked.

To those who don’t know, Danny was invited to Joy Uncle’s home to meet me. Except I didn’t know. To escape my relatives (FC54), I got him into my car and drove off (FC55). Now, I was on my way back and dreading the drama.

Though I was attracted to Danny, I was a mess. At the beach he had asked pointed questions and my answers seemed feeble. I drove slowly and wondered how I would make this man understand my crazy household without judging me. How would I explain Genie. How was I going to explain Fish and my need to talk to them all the time. Genie had wheeled their tank into a corner and Joy Uncle had been annoyed.

“Do you want me to pick it up? Is that the name of a man or woman?” Danny said looking at the name flashing across the screen. After a long pause, Danny said, “Just curious.”

“It’s a friend. No need to pick up the phone.”

But the phone wouldn’t stop ringing and finally Danny answered it. “Hello… Hello… Hello, is anyone there?”

I tried not to smile, I had heard a babble in the couple of seconds Danny swiped to answer and put the phone to his ear. He had heard the noises too and looked puzzled when no one spoke.

He switched it off and put my phone on the dashboard. It started ringing again. He answered again and there was silence. He stared at the screen and then looked at me and I smiled involuntarily. “I think the person isn’t going to talk to me.”

I nodded, smiling.

“Who’s Fish?”

I shook my head and concentrated on the road.

“A boyfriend?”

“No.”

“A colleague… an ex colleague?”

“No.”

“A lady friend with an unfortunate name?”

I laughed. “No. Sorry, just a friend.”

“Why didn’t he talk to me?”

I frowned. Just like a man to misunderstand… to assume it was a man. But the ‘men’ in my fish tank outnumbered the lady – four to one. “I don’t know. Very shy. Don’t like strangers.”

“Is he a relative?”

“Yes... a very close one.”

“Oh. Family know him then.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What manner is that?”

“Er, the family won’t speak about him because he’s had issues… and has multiple personalities – he thinks he’s several people. It’s really complicated. Please don’t tell anyone. The family gets upset when I talk to Fish.” Technically all true. Everyone got upset when I talked to Fish. The family thought I had mental health challenges because I spoke to Fish and they had names. And no one, except for Genie, Anjali and my cousin Roma, knew how frequently we spoke. Plus, Fish were all full of personality.

“Righttt. Is Fish at your Uncle’s place?”

“Yes. I mean, no. You’ll probably see… him… but not notice. No one talks about him. He’s a dirty secret.”

“What’s his real name?” Danny said, after staring at the speeding and slowing trees from his window. I tried to weave in and out of traffic. I had got a call from Elsa Aunty, reminding me to come home. By her nervous tone I knew Joy Uncle was working himself into a rage. I dearly hoped Rajiv and Beasty would bear its brunt.

“Oh… don’t really know. Fish became his pet name.”

“That’s strange. Close family would know each other’s names.”

“Yes. But I call many of my cousins by their pet names, and don’t know their Christian names…”

“Hmmm.”

“What do you do, Danny?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, where do you work and live, etc, etc. Do you have kids?”

“Aha. Finally! You’ve started asking the questions you were supposed to ask.”

“I don’t think you asked me those questions.”

“I did, but you shut me down. Plus, you didn’t give me specifics.”

“Like?”

“Kids? Etc.”

“Beasty Aunty didn’t tell you?”

I heard a chuckle. “Do you mean Betsy Aunty? Beauty’s mom did.” Mercy Aunty was my cousin Rajiv’s mother-in-law.

“Basically, you know everything about me and I know nothing about you.”

Danny nodded, not ashamed at the inequity of the situation. “Yes. I know you’ve been divorced a few years. No kids. You have, or had, a job, and you live by yourself.”

“Bravo. Now your turn.”

“I’m divorced. No kids. I have a job in Chennai, but I have moved around.”

“Didn’t you want kids?”

“I was married only about a year.”

“Oh?”

We were silent for a while, until I asked, “Why did it end so quickly?”

“I found out she was in love with someone, but was forced into a marriage with me.”

“So… you divorced her for being in love with someone before you?”

“No. We were emotionally distant. Plus I was in the US, and I couldn’t take her with me immediately. And…”

“And?”

“And she couldn’t get along with my parents.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My in-laws had hated me, they had made my life a living hell, but I had stuck it out. Our marriage had still unravelled.

“Er, that’s grounds for a divorce? Wouldn’t things have improved once she’d got to the US?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

“Yes. If she’d been able to forget him. But she couldn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“She told me.”

It sounded like bullshit to me. “Er, and then what?”

“Nothing. We agreed to part.”

I had no words because it sounded complicated. But what could a divorcé really say about divorce that sounded positive. It sounded bad any which way you approached it – you were a born failure for not sticking it out. My phone rang again.

“I think you should pick up the phone,” Danny said.

“Why?”

“Maybe Fish wants something urgently.”

“I doubt it.”

“You said he was very delicate.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“Right. I’ll talk to them when I get back.”

“Him.”

“Him who?”

“Fish!”

“Oh.” I finally remembered I had squeezed all five of my darlings into one disturbed individual.

Danny grabbed my phone, pressed the green answer button and pushed the phone into my ear. “Hello, Fish, I’ll talk to you at home.”

“What’s wrong with right now?” Penaaz demanded.

“Is he any good?” Portas said.

“Genie’s gone,” Dimitri said mournfully. “He didn’t say anything before he left.”

“He won’t pick up his phone. Why is that yob picking up yours?” Pervez said.

“He’s not a yob,” I defended Danny weakly, afraid he would hear Fish’s side of the conversation. “Where are you calling from? The sitting room?” I hoped they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves at Uncle’s place. Fish talking on a phone in a fish tank would instantly attract the wrong kind of attention.  

“We’re hiding behind the shrubs. When are you back? Uncle and Beasty look chuffed with the state of affairs. Everyone was happy to hear you took Danny away in your car. Looks like they have a wedding all planned out. Are they on the right track, my dear?” Gregory, the smartest fish in the tank, asked.

I glanced at Danny, who was watching me. “Er, I don’t know. I’ll talk to you when I return.”

“Is it too early to say?”

“Yes.”

“Then you didn’t like him.”

“I can’t really say.”

“Never mind. Avoid the pot holes, you don’t want him to call you a woman driver.” Gregory ended the call despite the protests in the background.

                                               ******

This is a fictional series about the narrator, her parents’ former man Friday Genie and her former pet fish. They have followed her to her uncle’s home to find that she has been ambushed by a potential suitor - a play sneakily set up by her uncle Joy.

Only matters come to a head when she is questioned about Genie.

                                                ******

I rang the doorbell nervously.

“Well, well, well, the prodigal daughter returns,” Rajiv opened the door wide.

I groaned. There was a large silent audience staring at us. Everyone looked like they were ready to burst.

Aunty waved us all towards the dining table. Danny washed his hands and immediately sat next to Anjali. Beauty pushed me into the chair beside him. I usually helped to serve, eating with my cousins later, but today Roma and her sister-in-law Beauty were serving and the elders and Danny’s parents sat at the table with us.

It was uncomfortable because Danny’s parents and my great uncle and aunt kept smiling at us. I remembered the day I met my ex. It had been more promising and the mood very light when we had had our chat. I had smiled and blushed. I was not blushing now. If anything, I was leery of any sort of commitment.

But it was what Danny started asking Anjali that had me breathless. He asked her what she did. “Oh, a writer. Does it pay?”

“Yes. So far.”

“Where do you live?”

“Near Almora. I’ve rented a place there.”

“So how come you’re in Mumbai?”

“I have work with my publishers. Plus I wanted to spend more time with her,” she gestured at me, “after Amritsar.”

“Amritsar?”

“Yes. We were there about a week ago.”

“Your husband too?”

“Husband?” Anjali watched me choke on my cutlet. Roma slapped my back hard – with unnecessary anger, I thought.

“Yes. The fair man with the long hair… Genie? Where is he?”

“He’s not my husband… and he seems to have gone home.”

“But she said…” Danny’s thumb pointed in my direction. There was a killer silence forming and my relatives had stopped eating.

“I assure you, Genie is not my husband,” Anjali said, mulish in her denial. I should have remembered Anjali would never lie for me. Only I never thought Danny would ask.

“He’s your boyfriend?”

“If it gives you a thrill. Sure, why not,” Anjali smiled, her dimples dancing, and now for the first time enjoying herself amidst these difficult people.

“Who told you Genie is Anjali’s husband?” Beasty Aunty demanded, a small bit of chicken shooting out of her mouth. Danny moved his head to avoid it.

“She did,” Danny pointed at me again.

“He’s her servant,” Rajiv said from the other end of the table.

“Not a servant,” Anjali shook her head emphatically.

“Genie Uncle is staying in Aunty’s house,” Aditya, Roma’s little son, said helpfully into the silence.

“Which Aunty?” Danny smiled at Aditya.

Aditya pointed at me.

A commotion broke out – Joy Uncle and Beasty Aunty talking loudly at the same time, Danny’s parents looking disturbed and talking to themselves and then turning to Elsa Aunty.

“Silence!” Joy Uncle shouted and then turned to me, “Explain yourself, child!”

“Sorry, I-I couldn’t figure out how to explain Genie…” I said, trying to hold Danny’s gaze. Anjali looked at me, the question in her eyes. Why did you say such a dumb thing?

“Genie… used to work for my parents. He was like a man Friday. He lived with us,” I babbled.

“Highly unusual, don’t you think? People would put a different twist to it… now that your parents aren’t around,” Rajiv smirked.

“Like the twisted way you are,” Anjali bristled. “Just any which way it can sound dirty.”

“It reeks of dirty without having to say it!”

“Shut up, you two! You!” Joy Uncle turned to me. “How long is Genie staying?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Well tell him to leave. It’s been long enough!”

“How long exactly?” Beasty asked.

“None of your business,” someone muttered.

“Who said that! How rude! Show your OUCH!” Beasty swatted her face and hit her nose hard. “OUCCHH! You have mosquitos here. Kill them! Kill them!”

“NO!” The tank lid flew open, hit the wall behind it and slammed shut again. Bubbles filled the tank, a low angry roar coming from the tank and I heard some choice swear words.

I stood up. Nobby! I could see my sweet darling mosquito and a couple of his friends biting Rajiv, Beasty and Joy Uncle with a vengeance.

Samir, Rajiv’s son, came running with a large electric fly swatter. “No, Samir, no! Give me that.” I pulled it out of his hands. Rajiv stood up and grabbed the bat from behind me, viciously pinning me against him in a most unpleasant way. “Let me go, you asshole!”

He shouted in my ear, “What is this business with the mosquitos! You never kill them, they are always in your house and they never seem to bite you!”

I tried to jab my elbow into Rajiv, but he was stronger and enjoying the uneven fight.

“Stop it, stop it!” Aarav and his mother tried to push his uncle away. I heard chairs skidding back and suddenly Rajiv yowled in pain and my neck was free of his vicious grip. I fell into Baby Uncle’s arms and we lost our balance and we fell against Joy Uncle, who gave us a mighty shove backwards.

“You idiot!” Joy Uncle shouted at me. He looked up behind me and closed his mouth slowly. Danny had a tight hold of Rajiv and towered over him. His eyes bored into mine. Rajiv and Anjali were looking daggers at each other standing next to Danny.

I shrank from the coldness of Danny’s look. I moved closer to Baby Uncle. “There’s nothing between Genie and me. We’re friends. He’s staying with me while he sorts out his business.”

“What business?” Joy Uncle asked. It was a strange, calm tone. Anjali looked at me. She had noticed it too. Uncle had wanted this all along. It was a brutal way to confront me. I felt pity for Genie.  

“His business. H-his many businesses. If my friends want to stay with me, I’m not going to stop them.”

“Why him?” the question was from Danny. “Don’t you know how it looks.”

I opened my mouth trying to think. “I can’t explain it in an acceptable way to you. He was there when my parents and I needed him the most.”

“Was he the reason your marriage ended?”

“No.”

“Is he going to move out soon?”

My eyes darted to Anjali. “I can’t say… I haven’t asked him.”

“That has to be an extraordinarily useless answer! Full of anything you want to make it,” Rajiv said spitefully.

“Goat,” someone said.

“Who said that!” Joy Uncle shouted, upset at the spate of insults directed at his favourite child.

“You’ll never know.”

“Show yourself!”

“Shut up!”

Uncle screamed in rage, a maniacal sound, and turned around, his fury fizzling out quickly when he saw his grandchildren clinging to their mothers and the blank disturbed looks all around him. Elsa Aunty pulled timidly at his arm, softly begging him to stop. Anjali was now in front of me, pushing off Baby Uncle’s arms and putting hers around me and hugging me tightly. I felt so grateful someone was there for me. I looked at Danny and felt unnerved. His face was angry. Would he ever believe me?

Beauty cleared her throat, “Let’s all sit down… and… finish the meal. Mummy and…” Beauty’s head tipped in my direction, “went to a lot of effort to… cook it.”

No one moved. Beauty glared at her husband Rajiv. But it was Baby Uncle who began to push his wife towards her chair and showed Danny’s parents back to theirs. Danny moved to his chair and Anjali and I followed.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.

                                           ******