I is for... Ila ki Amma

Ila ki Amma carefully rolled up her ponytail into a bun and tucked her cotton blue saree on her rather hefty waist. She then separated the big dishes from the small and started rubbing them one by one with dishwashing soap.

She hummed music from Bollywood while washing the plates, then sang folk songs while doing laundry, and while she mopped the floor, she chuckled from time to time, perhaps thinking of some funny anecdote which she would share with Mummy later.

After finishing all her work, Ila ki Amma sat on the chauki in the kitchen, dunked Parle G in her chai, and spoke to Mummy about her day(s).

‘I’ve told you many times to give Bitiya sugar and curd in the morning during her exams, but you always forget. She will come fusht, I am telling you,’ I heard Ila ki Amma tell Mummy. Ila always sported a big round black dot of kajal on her forehead till she passed class 7. I don’t know if she ever came fusht, but she did ward off evil. ‘Kaala tikka protected Ila from the monkey that entered our house 10 years back, you have to trust these things,’ she repeated the story for the hundredth time.

When Ila turned 14, she revolted, and her mother could not fight her way back onto her forehead. They didn’t speak for a week; Mummy had found out.

After sharing her wisdom on yoghurt and sugar, Ila ki Amma left our home for the next one. ‘I will come,’ she declared while leaving because I am going was a wrong thing to say.

She worked five houses including ours. Each home had a devi of a Bhabhi and a devta of a Bhaiya. Roma aunty cut her salary from time to time, but Ila ki Amma 'understood' and blamed it on their financial troubles. ‘Where will you find such a maid who is always so bubbly,’ Mummy said to Daddy when he grumbled about her singing.

‘She is too much. Very noisy,’ Daddy complained reading the newspaper. ‘Where does she stay? U.P. administration has ordered demolition of a long list of jhopdis near our house. I wonder if she will have a place to live from tomorrow.’

This was serious. There was a lot of illegal construction near our locality which was home to many low-wage income workers. The government interfered from time to time, but they were resilient. Whenever they pulled down a series of homes, the workers would find temporary accommodation at their relatives, and build back after a few weeks. ‘Where else can we go, this is our home and close to where we work,’ Ila ki Amma would defend.

Next day Ila ki Amma didn’t come till 11 a.m. Mummy got worried if her house was destroyed and she was now homeless. She started doing the dishes with my help and prayed everything to be ok.

We weren’t expecting her the next day too, so we finished the chores early in the morning. At 9.30, Ila ki Amma entered our home with a morose look on her face.

‘What happened? We heard about the demolition.’ Mummy asked her with concern.

‘Oh yes, municipality sent cranes yesterday and broke our doors and windows. We had to pack everything and leave.’

‘You could have taken leave today also, why did you come?’

‘Why wouldn’t I come? We already knew about this since last week and so I had shifted everything to my brother’s house two days back.’

‘Oh, I thought you must have been under stress yesterday so that is why you didn’t come.’ Mummy said.

‘Arre nahi, Bhabhi. Actually, yesterday when I was leaving for your house from Savitri bhabhi’s house a black cat crossed my path. You know what an evil omen that is. I had to turn back and go back to my brother’s house. Too much risk.’

Mummy took the chauki in the kitchen and sat down with her palm on her forehead. Ila ki Amma was an item.

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This story is a part of AtoZ challenge by Blogchatter. For the 2020 challenge, I'll be writing some travel stories and some stories that originate in my life but find a way into this blog through fiction. I am new at this, so please be kind!!!

H is for... House Politics

Mrs. and Mr. Vinod Agarwal had three children. The third child was a son, born because the first two weren’t. Incidentally, Mr. Agarwal’s younger brother also produced a son in the same month. They rented the colony garden to throw a lavish party for the entire neighbourhood to honour the arrival of their two miracles – Ashu and Abhi. We were a bit surprised because Mrs. Agarwal and Lata aunty, the second daughter-in-law of the house, never saw eye to eye. ‘Marwari hain, to save money ofcourse,’ I had heard mom tell Rekha aunty.

When Ashu was ten months old, Mrs. Agarwal decided she wanted to go to a kitty party hosted in a bungalow which was 100 metres away. She asked me, her 12-year-old, friendly, next door neighbour if I could stay in her room for an hour because who asks the adult sister-in-law in the next room. I was usually more at the Agarwal house than my own, savouring their bhujias more than my mother’s sukhe alu, so this was not extraordinary.

It was a surprisingly pleasant summer day and I was totally engrossed in my books from the library. I hogged on to dal, chawal and a whole of mango, hoping nothing will spill on the pages. Between spoonsful of deliciousness, I told my mom I’ll be baby-sitting. Her expressions were less than agreeable, but when it came to Agarwal house, she didn’t bother much. I was just a family member there as I was here!

I let myself into their house and started climbing the stairs. The ground floor belonged to Mr. Agarwal’s parents who were constantly watching every move of mine.

‘The girls are downstairs,’ Dadima said in her shrill voice. ‘They are sleeping.’

‘I am going to meet Aunty,’ I replied turning back and literally ran lest she started questioning me like Karamchand.

Mrs. Agarwal was dressed up in her finest blue saree. With matching bangles and a platform sandal that I hadn’t seen since Ashu’s party, she looked happy to be stepping out after months.

‘I will be back in an hour. Just feed him this milk if he cries,’ she said handing me the bottle. ‘You won’t get time to read your book; he is a handful!’ she added.

Now Julian was about to solve a great mystery. He, Geroge and Timmy were all set and so was I. As soon as she left, I knocked on Lata aunty’s door. I told her Ashu was alone in the next room and I could take Abhi too and they could play together. ‘Did you ask Bhabhi?’ she asked.

‘No, but she will not know.’

Ashu and Abhi had never played together. Apparently, Lata aunty was loved by the entire family only because, according to Mrs. Agarwal, her firstborn was a son. Even though Mrs. Agarwal was the elder one, she never felt she was given much importance. There are bound to be differences, I had heard mom saying.

I flipped through the last pages of my Famous Five while Ashu and Abhi managed to play with each other and the bucketful of toys for more than 45 minutes. Meanwhile, Lata aunty served tea to her in-laws’ downstairs, took a quick 15-minute nap and brought me a piece of samosa.

‘It’s time. I need to take Abhi back in my room.’ she said picking up the little munchkin and started walking out.

Ashu tried to crawl behind them but I picked him up. He let out a whimper and so I grabbed his bottle and started to feed him. Just then Mrs. Agarwal came in hurriedly and inquired ‘Did he bother you?’

‘Not at all, he was his sweetest self,’ I said while handing Ashu to her. I kissed him goodbye and walked out of the room with the finished book in my hand.

I closed the door behind me and peeked into the next room. Lata aunty gave me the warmest smile and a flying kiss and I wondered if Ashu and Abhi will be playing together anytime soon.

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This story is a part of AtoZ challenge by Blogchatter. For the 2020 challenge, I'll be writing some travel stories and some stories that originate in my life but find a way into this blog through fiction. I am new at penning fiction, so please be kind!

G is for…Granny

The stories were interesting, the gestures had become warmer, well, at the age of 79, she looked like the kindest one.

Since I knew about her exploitative side too, I never cared for her much. Mom never shared her experiences lest it influence our opinion of her, but me and my sister had overheard every ugly deed of Granny and drew our own inference. However, I never expected she would go this far.

We were chit-chatting over a cup of tea. Granny sat curled on her spot on the bed in her white cotton nighty bought by my aunt from the streets of Bandra. ‘My dad was the wisest person on earth. He found your grandfather for me and married me into a wealthy family. I have vivid memories of him from Karachi…’ I was listening to her half-heartedly since this was my hundredth encounter with memoirs from Pakistan.

My wedding was just a week later, and I wanted to spend whatever little time I had with each family member. What if my mother-in-law turns out like Granny and doesn’t allow me to come home over false pretexts?

I had seen very little of my Nani since Granny came up with terrible excuses whenever we were to leave for Indore. When I was 10, she twisted her ankle just the night before our train and demanded to be bed ridden for a fortnight. I clearly remember that because I had to put away a stack of Pinki comics that I were to read on the train in my pre-chosen corner berth. I thought of this as an emergency and decided not to show my disappointment. Plus, mom promised me a barbie set when I had thrown a tantrum in the morning.

‘My mother taught me how to make chapatis, I make the softest ones. I will teach you tomorrow,’ Granny continued with pride.

‘Mom already taught me; I just need practice.’

‘But I make better ones. Even halwa, I will tell you how to make.’

‘Fine.’ I didn’t want to argue with her.

I thought of my 12^th birthday when mom had made lunch for the entire extended family. We were happily sitting and relishing a delicious halwa for dessert when my uncle exclaimed, ‘No one makes this better than Maa..’

‘Oh no, I would have never put such little ghee and sugar. This tastes like a poor man’s meal,’ Granny had added quickly.

At that moment I suddenly felt the sugar was low too and asked mom for a spoonful. I understand now how furious she would have been at that point, and how I must have added to her sorrow.

‘When you have children...’ Granny said waking me up from my nostalgia.

‘Arre Dadi, let me get married first!’

‘No. Listen. When you have children, make sure you massage them the right way. I will teach you. Had your mom done my way, your legs would have been stronger, and you would have not been weak like you are now.’

I looked at her in disbelief. What if she had said the same thing when I was 14 and looking for answers? I wanted to give her a lecture on massage, children, parenthood, and most importantly, my medical condition. Yet I chose to pick up my cup, finish the last bit, and just walk away, because my halwa or chapatis might or might not turn out the best, but my values had.

Throughout the week Granny kept pushing me to learn things from her, but I told her how she had already taught me a lot. She had taught me the greatest lessons in what not to do.

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This story is a part of AtoZ challenge by Blogchatter. For the 2020 challenge, I'll be writing some travel stories and some stories that originate in my life but find a way to this blog through fiction.

F is for...(Our) Father, in Heaven

There was a huge church in the middle of our school - the highest in the country, we were told. In the pre-google era, we believed anything anyone told us. Beyond the chapel and the main praying area, there was a lodging for nuns and the principal of the school. As I told you, the church establishment was enormous.

Our classrooms and other recreational areas were all around this church. After keeping our bags in the classroom, me and my friends walked to the chapel to pray. We prayed in the school assembly also, followed by a prayer before lunch and then a prayer after all the classes got over. We prayed a lot back then.

Like every morning, Miss Camphor visited the chapel today as well, solely for religious purposes. We always got frowning looks from her. ‘These girls giggle and spoil my 5 minutes of peace before the screaming begins in the class. Why are they even here?’ I overheard her saying one day.

Her hair was graying, and she lived alone – you can’t expect anything but frustration from an old spinster like that. We were ruthless in our opinion of her, but so was she. She wore the same dress every day – a floral frock that ended at her knees with a leather belt at the waist. Legend had it – a boy made her furious in 1987 and she hit him hard with this belt. None of us ever dared to make her angry.

Today was my first day in class 5 and as my good fortune would have it, Miss Camphor walked into our room as our class teacher. The eerie silence was the type I had never experienced before from my class of 50 boys and girls. When she was scanning the class, her eyes stopped at me for more than a few seconds. She knew me as the giggling girl from the chapel, just as I knew her as the creepy teacher in the school.

‘There will be a monitor in this class which will be changed every two weeks. You will be the first one starting today,’ she said pointing at me.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t even know how to look at her, and now I will have to report to her on a daily basis? ‘Yes Ma’am,’ I heard myself saying.

‘You are her favorite already, remember not to get on her wrong side,’ Sakshi muttered from the row behind mine while a few boys chuckled in hushed tones.

After the fourth period got over, we joined our hands to say our prayers before eating our meals. Miss Camphor asked me to meet her outside the staff room before the break got over. ‘Yes Ma’am,’ I said shivering at the prospect of interacting with her.

‘Mom made baigan bharta for you,’ Shakti said passing her tiffin to me. I gave her whatever little was left in my tiffin. We finished our boxes in the first period itself, there was no fun in eating in the lunch break.

Normally I would eat my tiffin and then Shakti’s and then grab a bite from Sakshi’s. Not today. ‘Why did she choose me?’ Nobody could answer.

I passed the church building to get to the staff room. I recited ‘Our Father in Heaven’ all the way up there hoping that the fourth prayer of the day will help me. Several teachers were sitting in there sharing their tiffins with each other. Miss Camphor saw me and called me inside. She took out a Monitor’s badge from her cupboard and clipped it on my shirt and then started to walk away.

Nothing was said between us. Suddenly she turned around and asked me to wait. She brought her tiffin and offered me a piece of cake. ‘You finished your tiffin in the morning, you must be hungry now.’

‘Errr..Noo Ma’am..I..’

‘Take a piece and stop giggling in the chapel. Also, don’t mention the cake to your classmates,’ she smiled and walked away.

While walking back in disbelief of how I was just treated, I looked at the church. Standing there, for the first time in seven years of being in this school, I wanted to find out if it was indeed the tallest one in the country.

E is for… England and Cricket Match Stories

I had chosen Travel stories as a theme for my AtoZ Challenge this year. However, my mind is wandering and I feel like writing some fiction. So, after today, I will write stories, but they can be about anything! Lets do this.
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If you want to learn how to do a great business deal, learn it from a Sindhi. I was at the Oval, in London, you know. India was playing against Australia in a league match of ICC Cricket World Cup 2019. We were thrilled to get the tickets which we had chanced upon only one day before the match. I wore my best clothes lest I came on television, just like the last match. Last match? Oh yes…

Let me start from the beginning. We decided in 2014 that we will go to London in 2019 when they host the Cricket World Cup. I don’t know my right arm swing from my LBW, but I do know Virat is a vegan and Dhoni has a daughter. I love clapping, screaming, dancing and trying all my moves to come on television. So, I tried to get the tickets for the event in 2018 and succeeded.

We went for India vs South Africa in Southampton. I was on television just after the toss, so bucket list no. 1 was done and dusted. People from all over the world messaged me that they saw us on television. Mission was accomplished, task was completed, now we had to sit through 8 hours of bat and ball.

Me and the Boy on TV. Someone paused Hotstar and took a photo for us!

Easy-peasy. Sing, dance, eat, drink and be merry. I had fun doing the Mexican wave too.

We went to London thereafter and met many friends while we were there. We hardly saw the city because we were busy chit-chatting with people from college. I had planned my stay in London according to a scheduled match date because I knew we will get lucky. Overconfidence, I tell you. It worked.

Watching a match in the Oval was the best experience. I don’t know how many times I screamed – Dus rupay ki Pepsi, Mera Kohli Sexy. Also, Panch rupay ka cola, Mera Dhoni Shola. There were some cool, rowdy boys behind us singing patriotic hindi songs. I sang along in my croaky voice just because you only live once!

We had a huge group from Gujarat sitting in the row just below us. You know how some Gujaratis are – they had theplas, haldiram bhujia, laddoos, and what not in their backpack. As much as we frown upon this strange characteristic, I would anytime eat Haldiram bhujia over French fries with Beer in a stadium in London! There is a certain amount of thrill attached to it.

Anyway, although we had exchanged quite a few smiles between us, I could never ask for those snacks. We were happily sitting with our flags and hair wigs and just eyeing the goodies. The ladies below us wanted to wear those props and take cool selfies to send home. Very conveniently, one of them almost pulled the wig from my hand and then, one by one, they all started posing and taking pictures.

Now I am certainly not the type who would let this go without a barter. I mean, asking for my stuff is one thing, literally taking it was another! When they opened the next packet of bhujia, I commented how it all looked yum. With some hesitation, they filled a plate with spicy Haldiram mix and handed it over to us!

I cannot tell you how fulfilling that was! Also, watching them go crazy so that they can come on television was a whole lot of fun too. I am sure someone was relishing my excitement just as much!

Even though we explored a bit of Scotland and then went to Ireland as well, the best thing about this trip was the experiences we had watching the matches. I cannot wait to go to another event like this one – whenever that may be.

Also, no matter how many IPL matches you go to, or watch Twenty-twenty from close quarters, nothing can beat the thrill of a One-day international match. I hope and pray that this generations starts to like this form of cricket and keeps it alive.

D is for… Dubrovnik Diaries

Television series Game of Thrones put Croatia on the world map. Like true fans, we decided in 2017 to visit the country with our friends and see the street where Cercei was 'shamed'!

We started from Ljubljana in Slovenia followed by Plitvice National Park, then Split, and ending the trip with Dubrovnik. This trip had its own adventures, but those are for another time.

The gorgeous Old Town of Dubrovnik as seen from a hill top.
We have seen a few walled cities around the world, but nothing beats the charm of this one.

Dubrovnik is centred around its old town which is surrounded by walls. To get into the centre, you must climb down several steep steps from different sides. We were walking down one staircase on the first day. There were hordes of people in front of us. The Boy jokingly started in Hindi – chalo, chalo, chalo, aage badho (move, move, move, move forward) thinking everyone who is ahead of us cannot understand our language. A young man from India looked behind and started smiling and we all had a good laugh.

The steps from the bottom of the street.

We rushed people down this one!
There was a slope from an entryway as well.
We used that most of the times for ease of walking. 

Frankly, I never appreciate my language unless we have to speak it in front of someone who is unable comprehend it. There is a thrill in saying things without being understood by people! I come from a Sindhi family and the only time I have to speak my mother tongue is either when I am in front of a shopkeeper or a maid. Super fun - although I am pretty sure the way I mix my Hindi with my Sindhi, they can understand every word I say!

We spent most of our time in Dubrovnik within those walls. It was like time travel in there – you feel you are in a different world and then you hear Ed Sheeren playing in a pub. Each day within those walls was exciting and full of new discoveries.

Dubrovnik Old Town at 2 in the night.
Before this, it was always packed with people crammed in restaurants that fill the area.

One evening, we were sitting next to the waterfront. The boy and my other two friends decided to go for a walk. I was very tired by then and so I sat on a bench and just watched the world go by. Two women in their 20’s asked me if they could sit on the bench too. We started talking and I feared that they were there to snatch my bag or sell me drugs!!

They told me they lived in the city with their parents and were unemployed. Another red signal! I was hoping for the Boy to come back sooner. When I told them I was from India, they got very excited. They said they have been watching an Indian Television series which roughly translates to Something Aunt. One of them logged into YouTube to find the Teleseries. I guess it was ‘Humari Dewarani’ or something!!! I am not sure!

I was amazed that this was dubbed in their language and they had been watching this. Thankfully the Boy showed up within minutes and they left.

Dubrovnik is beautiful from whereever you see it. You can stay in the outskirts and
take a taxi to the old town every day. You will save a lot of money and miss nothing.

I still think they were there to rob me or sell me something I did not need, but who knows, maybe they were just making conversation with a friendly tourist! Maybe they had found this television series and used it amuse every brown visitor. I am paranoid, or am I? Anyway, it was a fun experience and it made for a good story to remember.

What say!? 

C is for … Cruising Memories

Thanks to Covid-19, cruising has got a lot of criticism this year. Hundreds of people stuck in a vessel with a transferable fatal disease – worst thing to happen. Because I loved my cruising experience in 2018, I read quite a bit about the Diamond Princess and many other ships that had to go through difficult circumstances because sailing to a port was not an option for them.

But who needs to read more gloomy news, lets rewind and go back to 2018. For the sake of new adventures, we decided to hop on to a 13-day cruise to the Baltics. A lot of things went into consideration while choosing this trip and they make for the best memories.

Our ship - Royal Caribbean Serenade of the Seas. It was an old ship with dated interiors.
But it was clean, had the best food and staff and was perfect for our first cruising experience

The cruise started from Stockholm and ended in Copenhagen. It gave us ample of time in these ports.

12 port days, 1 cruise day

There was only one cruise day in between so we were to spend most of our days at the ports. We literally saw the ship on day five when we had to be back in the ship at 4 p.m. Now when you are on the ship, you can choose from two types of complimentary dining – buffet style and sit-down dinner. They assign a table for you in the restaurant even if you go for buffet style. We decided to check out the restaurant on this day.

When we arrived, we were greeted by two couples – one in the 50’s and the other in their early 20’s who were apparently honeymooning. The table next to ours belonged to three sisters who were aged 74, 78 and 82 respectively.

It was so inspiring to see them have fun on this cruise. They were always there for every show, every excursion, even dressed up to the T in the casino. I wished to be like them at that age!

Me and the Boy both enjoyed buffet style dining, but we went to see the three sisters and the other two couples on most days. On the last day someone mentioned that they thought we were one big happy family even though we looked very different from each other!

The fun table at the end of the dining room!

Cheap and Awesome!

      We chose the cheapest possible room – Interior guarantee – which basically means the cruise will assign a small, windowless room to us. We left it to chance and then I prayed five times a day. A shankha was involved.

The room was perfect. It had many cupboards which meant that I could keep the small room neat and tidy. It was cleaned two times a day – imagine, two times!! There was absolutely no light in the room and so we slept 10 hours a night like we had never slept before.

Seriously, we were out for 12 hours a day, and then slept like logs for 10. The internet was choppy, there was not much else to do in the room, hence the beauty sleep. We miss it all the time!

Lesser known destinations!

There were seven countries being covered. Had it not been for this cruise, we would have never gone to Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia! These countries have some language problems, they are close to the Baltic countries which are anyway very expensive to cover so you can’t add ‘irrelevant’ places(!!), plus, there was basically nothing to explore here.

We also went to a port called Fredericia in Denmark. This was probably only the second time a cruise was going there. It was a laidback village with a small market, a trailing path, a beach and very warm people. They gave us a map, and we walked through it. At the end, when the cruise ship was about to sail, the mayor came by. There was singing and dancing. Hundreds came by to wave us goodbye. Canon balls were involved! It was the sweetest thing.

Fredericia style good-bye!

Cruising was an amazing experience for us because we chose what suited us. I had researched well about calm waters in the Baltics, so we were protected from any kind of sea sickness. Yes, being a pain in the ass planner helps those who travel.

If you are looking for your first cruise experience that is reasonably priced, is fun and gives you a great chance to explore, this is the best one. And no, I am not associated with Royal Caribbean!

My shopping from the ports!