Tales of your Friendly Neighbourhood Orthodox Maami and the Returned Children

Maami was in a black mood when she came over last Thursday. Her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren had come back from the USA for good, thanks to the recession and the son-in-law's sudden realisation of the value of India. While Maami was happy to spend time with them without the constant prickling sensation of seconds ticking away to departure time, she seemed to be quite annoyed with the "Americanism" they had brought back and which they were now attempting to spew in her house.
She settled herself comfortably in her favourite chair in the drawing room and gazed sadly at our television set where someone was singing bhajans loudly and tunelessly. The camera kept focussing on the lead singer who had so much makeup caked on her, it seemed difficult for her to sing without her face cracking.
"They are watching some English film on our tv." Maami said glumly.
Amma made suitable sympathetic noises, though she was actually wondering if it was the same movie that my brother and I had been watching when she had wrested the remote control from our hands half an hour ago.
"I don't understand the movie." Maami said, even more sadly. "There are two policemen, I think one is good and one is bad, but it is confusing who is what and then more policemen keep coming and going and there is so much shooting and..." she shook her head, lost by now in her own explanation. "They keep talking on phones and they talk so fast, I cannot follow them. They all look the same also." Then suddenly something else struck her. "There is a girl who seems to like both the policemen." Maami seemed glad there was someone in the movie as confused as she was. "One of the actors is the boy in Titanic. He looks so ugly now."
More understanding noises from Amma.
Maami looked annoyed again. "And Ananya (her 12 year old granddaughter) keeps saying, 'sooo cute' whenever any of those policemen comes on the screen. But..." she looked thoughtful. "It might be the same person also. I am not too sure. But even then," getting back to the original theme, "I don't know why Savitri (her daughter) allows her to say such things. What so cute? Then again..." Maami was very confused. "Ananya gets even worse. Yesterday she saw a pair of sandals and called them..." she lowered her voice. "Sexy. For sandals. How can you use..." Maami shuddered at the horror of it all. "..that word for sandals?"
Amma tich tiched. "Would you like some coffee, Maami?" She asked, trying to distract the poor lady.
At this Maami let out another sigh. There seemed to be no topic that she couldn't relate her sorrows to and wax eloquently on. "Ravi (her 5 year old grandson) wants cold cappucino, not coffee. So I put the filter coffee in the fridge and then gave it to him, but he says he wants cream on top. That's not ice cream." She told Amma knowledgably, just in case Amma had had that thought. "It is whipped cream he wants. Whipped cream! But Savitri drinks only skimmed milk it seems. " Maami looked like her head would explode from all the contradictory information stored in it. "And then Ravi said he wanted some... teddy bears? To eat! I think..." she looked terribly unhappy. "They have become non vegetarian."
Amma smiled. "No, no. It is not teddy bears or non vegetarian things, it is gummy bears. They are only a kind of sweet. And they are available for vegetarians also. Even you can eat them. " She offered kindly.
Maami shuddered again and continued looking sad. She seemed to have made up her mind that it was all hopeless- her children and grandchildren were crazy and she was determined not to let anyone snatch away that misery. "You know when they came here four years ago, it was not this bad." Then she sighed and pointed to the bag she was carrying. "They went shopping today. And they bought..." She pulled out a blue top from the bag. "..This."
It was an outfit with spaghetti straps and had quite a few bows and straps running all over it.
Maami looked helplessly at it. "I don't even know which way is up!" She wailed, turning it upside down. "How do you wear this?"
Amma reached out and put the top back into the bag half afraid Maami would get more upset and half afraid I would spot it. "It is alright Maami, don't worry. These youngsters, you know, they get influenced so easily. Ananya will be fine, she is a lovely girl..."
Maami looked up, almost in tears. "It is not for Ananya, it is for Savitri!"
Amma was taken aback, but covered it up well. "Well, Savitri has to go out, no? She will wear this with a jacket, I am sure..."
From the next room, listening to the conversation, I grinned to myself. At least for the next few days, it looked like I could wear all my outfits in peace.

... ....

The sign on his table said ASTROLGER in big red letters. Below that, in smaller letters it said, HORSCOPE AND PAMMIST ALSO.
The sign always upset him. He knew something was wrong with it (though he could never quite put his finger on what it was) but it also reminded him of what a bad "astrolger" he really was. But he could never bring himself to remove it as it was the only thing in the room that made it look like his "office premises".
He pushed the sign slightly away from himself as he sat before his clients - a family of three composed of an imposing, garrulous mother (whom he instantly disliked), an uninterested father and a skinny son squashed between the two of them. The mother seemed to be the only one wanting to ask questions and demand answers; the father kept looking at the sign on his desk suspiciously and the boy kept shrinking further and further into his seat.
"We used to go to Guru ABC previously." The mother proclaimed loudly. "And then... he died." She looked more disappointed than sad at the development. He was tempted to ask how soon after association with her the man had died, but she turned suspiciously towards him. "You do know Guru ABC?"
He nodded. It was the old guy in the next road who had stolen his business because of his long white beard and large signboard (painted correctly). "Very good man." He said, trying to look sorry.
"This is my son's horoscope as prepared by Guru." The lady pushed forward a thin book. "He told us our son would get married by this month end, but no matches have come up. Please tell us what will happen."
The father grunted, glancing at the sign once again and he wondered if he should just sweep it off the table.
He opened the horoscope and peered down at the notes. None of it really made sense to him. He had never understood the planets (it was his father who had built up the business and he had been dragged into it) but this book was the absolute pits. He wondered if anyone other than Guru ABC could decipher the scribbling on the sheets. He wanted to give it back to the mother and say it was hopeless to try and understand it, but he also needed money desperately.
"Well?" Demanded the mother.
He placed the horoscope on a tray and then placed that in front of the portraits of an array of Gods lining the wall. He closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to cook up some intelligent answers. Even though this was what he prayed for most of the time, he felt more apprehensive than usual. When he was convinced that if he kept his eyes shut any longer, the family would leave, he turned to them.
"Your son..." He began. "Your son is currently going through a bad phase. The moon..." he jabbed a random point in the horoscope,"is not positioned favourably."
The mother opened and shut her mouth like a fish and the father just grunted again, but the boy looked ready to bawl.
He quickly shook his head. "The effects ofcourse, are not long lasting." He said. The mother's face stopped turning blue and she seemed to breathe again. "Within the next four months, your son is definitely going to get married."
"To whom?" Fired the mother. Now that one hurdle was crossed, she looked set to spit fire if he didn't give favourable answers to the next set of questions.
"The planets cannot determine a person's name." He admitted honestly. "But... he will marry the third match that comes to you."
"Third?" The father looked sceptical, and he wondered if maybe they didn't expect anyone to want to marry into the family. He had thought 3 was a safe number- they wouldn't feel he was trying to palm off their son to the first person in sight and at the same time, it wasn't too big a number for the proposals that could come their way. Even if no one came for the striking intelligence and good looks of their son, the family looked rich and respectable enough for 3 families to send proposals.
"Yes, third."
"And what will the girl bring into the house in terms of land and gold?" The mother asked anxiously. The boy turned white. Even the father looked slightly ashamed.
Ah ha. Here was the most important question. He looked at her with distaste. For this awesome specimen of a son, they should bring along another boy to keep them company, he thought.
"Lavish gifts from the side of the girl can have very dire consequences." He said gravely. "It could even...." He looked at the son sorrowfully and didn't say anything.
The boy yelped with fright, but the mother looked angry. "Here, what do you mean?"
"You might not have grandchildren." He said, wondering if that was serious enough to prevent her from asking for dowry. "The girl's family should not send her with too many gifts or it will lead to the evil eye being cast on you. Relatives can be very greedy these days, madam."
The mother seemed to grasp this logic well. "But... absolutely nothing then?"
"Ah, madam, you bring the horoscope of the third girl, and I shall tell you what can be done." He said generously. "I will keep this horoscope of your son safely with me till then."
And make sure you don't head to some other astrologer, he thought to himself.
They seemed satisfied. He watched as they dropped a 500 Rupee note into his payment box and smiled sycophantishly as they trotted out.
Then he picked up the sheaf of papers, threw it into his desk, took the money and went out to get drunk.

Imprisonment at Midnight

"Congrats, man, now you are on the official road to hell!" Exclaimed my best friend Rajeev, slapping me on the back.

I was half torn between wearily nodding and snapping at him, but finally gave in to the former. My eyes were almost closing, my legs ached and I was tired of looking at all the shiny stuff I had been forced to buy during the day.

Rajeev peered into one of the bags and pulled on the pallu of an atrociously bright gold saree. "Seriously, man. Hot." He said, rummaging through the other bags.

I wondered if the guy was high. Rajeev spent most of his time in a different world, and when he did get into mine, he was the most intrusive person I had ever known.

My mother came into the room holding a glass of juice for me. Her eyes had that odd gleam that came into them only during wedding time. The only time when she never complained of any of her various illnesses and when she seemed perenially drunk on Red Bull.

She looked annoyed at seeing Rajeev messing with the day's purchases. "Those-are-not-for-you!" She said, punctuating each word with a smack on Rajeev's wrists. But I could see she was only half serious, nothing could get her down this time of the year. It was marriage time!

Rajeev drew back, grinning and not in the least bothered. "Thank you Aunty." he said, sweetly taking away my glass of juice and starting to sip.

My mother looked exasperated, but she seemed even more concerned about the clothes and jewllery in the bags than my exhaustion.

"I am going to put these away." She announced and started piling up the bags.

Just looking at the packages enervated me. Looking at my mother's enthusiasm made me feel almost faint.

Rajeev turned to me to say something, but seeing my expression he got up. " I shall leave, my man. See you in a few days at the wedding. I'll celebrate it!" He winked.

I nodded and tried to glare at him at the same time. I knew his version of celebrations. He would go out with that girlfriend of his and drink the night away. And sleep through it too.

Pah. I didn't know who I was irritated with- that loser Rajeev, who had always failed at school and got suspended a million times for doing drugs and sleeping with the girls at the neighbouring college but now ran a decently successful auto business; or myself - the sterling student, the model pupil, who was getting married to a girl he had seen twice - over the internet.

Duty. That's where Rajeev and I had differed. He had never made his parents proud like I had. He had never listened to them and been guided by what they had said. Hell, people said he had secretly married that girlfriend of his because her parents had threatened to marry her off to someone else! Whereas I was doing the right thing - I was marrying a person whom my parents had picked, a nice traditional girl who was homely and who was the right person for me....

I could practically hear the strains of Dil To Pagal Hai playing in my head.

I sighed. Forever I was caught in the battle between duty and my own sarcastic mind, and forever duty won the battle. I didn't know if it was because of fear of my own mind which could run away in hitherto unexplored directions if let loose or if it was because I was scared of becoming like Rajeev.

Not that Rajeev was bad. It was just that he was on his own trip. He was also always on... a solo trip. His family had cut him off, he loathed his relatives, it was just him and his girlfriend. And her family seemed out of the picture too. Sometimes I felt sorry for him, that he didn't have the strong roots I had - a family to fall back on, to go home to....

"Aye!" My mother was waving her hand in front of me. She was showing me some really gaudy piece of jewellery. "What do you think? Solid gold with rubies. Big enough for her, eh??"

I swallowed. "Very nice."

"We'll show them what a good family we are..." Mother muttered, holding up the necklace to her own neck. "What do they think, we can't afford it...?"

Family. Duty. It was all worth it...

* * *

"Oh my God, is that you?" Rajeev peered through the strings of flowers that covered my face. "Can I please die of laughter at this?"

I practically growled and pulled off the wedding headgear. I hated flowers. I loathed them. And now all these bloody things were covering my face.

My patience had run out. I was tired of all the rituals they were subjecting me to over the last few days. I had had so many different sweets shoved into my mouth, so many different things poured on my head (from jaggery to rice to water to milk) and changed into so many different outfits that I was very, very close to screaming my lungs out.

Rajeev, for the first time in his life, looked concerned. "You look sick." He informed me.

"Well I have had a fantastic diet." I snapped. "What is going on outside?"

"I don't know. Your girl is doing something around the fire. I am not sure what. The priest is very slow, he keeps getting phone calls or messages and stops his chanting. I think he's getting match updates." Rajeev replied, his grin back in place. "You should be out on the stage soon, don't worry."

"What is the bloody time?" I asked, looking at the horrible clock mounted on the wall of the green room of the wedding hall, where I sat sequestered and waiting for the Holy Priest to call me out.

"Eleven forty. That clock doesn't work. Your muhurtam time is still about ten minutes away." Rajeev said.

"What you bloody learnt that invitation card by heart?" I asked, trying to get my headgear back up on my head.

Rajeev laughed. "You know, I think this is the most violent and abusive you have ever been."

"You are making fun of me!" I said.

Rajeev smiled. "No I am not. You are one of the few people in this world who are genuine, Adi. I'll return that favour. Plus, you always stood by me, even though you were also always judging me in your over active head."

I glared at him, even though I was ashamed he knew that fact. "What are you giving me all this for?"

Rajeev laughed till tears sprang to his eyes. "I didn't know the wedding could make you so aggressive!"

I stared at him and suddenly I knew what had happened. This was wrong. It was all wrong. I wasnt afraid of being like Rajeev, I wanted to be him. I didn't want to marry some girl my mother had picked when I didn't even know her, I didn't want to pretend I had a support system in my family when they had never supported anything that I had wanted. I didn't want to go through a marriage that would tie me down to the very things I always wished to run away from....

"Rajeev." I whispered, feeling sick by the minute. "Rajeev, I..."

The door opened and my father poked his head around it. He looked weary, tired of all the fuss going on outside and I knew this was what I would look like forty- fifty years hence. It was as though suddenly everything around me was screaming that this was wrong....

"The priest is waiting." My father said. "Come out."

I turned to Rajeev, in complete panic.

He had slipped out via the side door.

I was on my own. I was walking to my own imprisonment.

I stared from the side door to my father. Back and forth.

And made my decision.