Ghost in the Afternoon

       Whenever Ammu's mother came on leave to visit her, she brought a trunkful of goodies for Ammu, and her cousins. Ammu used to learn a little something new in every visit: knitting, crotchet, sewing....... the last visit P taught her daughter to make a sampler with different kinds of fancy stitches. There was a very pretty looking sewing kit filled with small spools of colored thread, a lovely dark-red velvet pincushion, a small silver thimble, tiny scissors, and four needles. The sewing kit was Ammu's joy and pride. P taught her to hem the pink sampler. Ammu always worked on her sampler in the afternoon "when the house was resting."
 
        Ammu set her small green cane chair in the center of the living room, facing the door. She liked it this way. On both sides the big windows opened out into the garden: on her right she could see the swing gently swaying; the big green wooden gate; and to her left was the verandah, and adjoining it was the small room, which was always kept locked. As she looked out through the door, she saw her favorite jack-fruit tree with its massive wooded trunk, and spreading canopy of leaves. Behind her sat Grandfather in his easy chair and beyond that was Grandmother's room, where she rested in the afternoon. Ammu got happily busy with her sampler, as the afternoon settled into a gentle somnolence.

       She saw a movement at the gate from the corner of her eyes, and looked up. "Maybe somebody to see Grandfather." she thought. She went on with her herringbone stitch with great concentration.
She looked up to see a man, a young man, slim, rather tall, in a white dhoti, and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, crossing the garden, going towards the verandah. He turned and smiled at her. Ammu liked him instantly. she smiled back. "Grandfather," she said turning around. Grandfather had turned in to rest.

"Please, wait......." she stopped abruptly. The front yard was empty. the man was not there. Ammu quickly put her sampler down, and ran in to the garden to see if the man was anywhere around. She walked around the house, mystified. Where did he go? He knew her... the way he smiled.
 "I've seen him before" she thought "Have I seen him before?.... He looked so familiar..."

"Ammu!......" she heard Grandmother. "Where are you child? Don't wander around too far way."

"That man, came, and disappeared, Grandmother, I was searching for him." panted Ammu running back.
"Which man?" Grandmother said looking around. "I don't see anybody, and if somebody comes, you just have to call one of us.Don't go exploring on your own."
"I won't. But he knew me and he smiled. And he was young!"
Grandmother looked quizzically at Ammu. "If he knew us, he would have come right in and asked for Grandfather. You imagine all sorts of things, my dear."
"I have seen him before," said Ammu with an obstinate set to her mouth, " He knows who I am." She continued with renewed vigor on her sampler.
Grandmother looked at the child working away at her newly learned skill and sighed.
"Ammu's getting too imaginative for her own good," she thought to herself as she lay down to rest in her room, fanning herself with the hand fan. " I wonder what it was that she saw."

Ammu saw the man every afternoon the whole week. She just sat and waited, and there he was: opening the gate, and walking with long, slow strides across the front yard, towards the verandah on the left. He always wore the same clothes, and always turned and gave Ammu a smile.But when she rushed out to see where went, he had already gone, but where? Maybe to C's house next door. It could be accessed from this house as well. But C and her brother never said anything about a visitor in the afternoon when they came to play with Ammu in the evening.
"Visitor? No, we did not have any visitors  at all." said C solemnly shaking her head."No visitor in the afternoon."

Ammu was given the privilege of cleaning and decorating Grandmother's puja room. She was thrilled. Grandmother always did it herself. But now she trusted Ammu! Nobody had ever been given this privilege before. Ammu could not wait to tell her cousins!
"Can I pluck the flowers I want for the decoration" she asked Grandmother.
"Yes, but be careful when you wipe and clean idols, and puja stuff." Grandmother was busy with her supervision of the kitchen, and Ammu skipped away in high jinks.
She carefully wiped the dust off the idols, and suddenly she saw in front of her--- the face of the afternoon visitor, in a framed photograph, on the altar.
Yes, the same high forehead, and hair combed back from a center parting, the same wide eyes, and long nose..... Ammu was startled and dropped the tray of flowers with a clatter.
"What is going on Ammu?" she heard her Grandmother ask in irritation. "Can't you do anything quietly?"
"The man,Grandmother! The man!!" Ammu ran and dragged her grandmother to the puja room.
"What in heaven's name child....." Grandmother fell silent when she saw the picture, which was taken out of its niche.
"This is the man Grandmother," said Ammu excitedly. " Same nose, eyes, hair with the parting... but he smiled at me."
Grandmother's face froze, and Ammu saw infinite sadness in her eyes. Grandmother picked up the photograph, and wiped it gently and placed it back in the niche.
"You go off and do your work child. I will do this room as usual. Let me know when you see your afternoon visitor, I would like to be there."
"Oh Grandmother, you sit with me, when I do my sampler. He will come then."
Grandmother nodded.

Next afternoon saw Ammu, Grandmother and Grandfather in the living room.
"Grandfather, will you ask him to come in? Please?" Ammu begged sitting on the arm of Grandfather's easy chair. "He looked such a nice man, I like him!"
Grandfather did not say anything but looked out with unseeing eyes.
"Grandfather!!" said Ammu bouncing up and down, "why don't you say something?"
Grandmother sat quietly watching the big green gate.
They sat waiting the entire afternoon. Ammu finished her sampler with a flourish of multicolored stitches.
Grandmother glanced up at the big round clock. It showed 4pm.
"Let me get tea ready" she said going iside. Grandfather's eyes followed her.
"He didn't come!" said Ammu angrily flinging her sampler down on the floor. "I hate him! Now you will think I was lying."
"Ammu," called Grandfather gently. Ammu looked up. Her grandfather's eyes were moist. "You never lie, child. You did see the man."
"Why didn't he come today? Maybe he will tomorrow."
"Ammu dear child, come here" said Grandfather gently patting the place next to him on the easy chair.
Ammu ran to him, and sat watching her beloved grandfather's face. Grandfather is going to cry, thought Ammu,shocked.

"That visitor was your uncle. My son. He died very young." came brokenly from Grandfather. "That room adjoining the verandah was his. You saw him going there."
"But he's dead Grandfather, you just said so!" Grandfather flinched at the brutal honesty of the child.
"Yes, but sometimes, just sometimes, the spirit comes back..... maybe to see you. He and your mother were very close."
Ammu looked at Grandmother standing quietly at the door looking at the gate. There were tears in her eyes, and on her face."I wanted to see him, just one last time."
Ammu was bewildered, forlorn, and suddenly set adrift on a tumultuous sea of strange emotions. Her grandparents were her foundation, her strength.... they seemed suddenly bereft of strength, weak and vulnerable.
Ammu was afraid.

Grandfather saw her face. " Your sampler doesn't look pretty at all. what on earth have you done with it?
What will your mother say when she sees it?"
Ammu was up and on to her sampler in a trice, the visitor forgotten.
"My sampler's beautiful,Grandfather! Grandmother, look at it, isn't it wonderful? why does he say it's awful?"

Grandfather's and Grandmother's eyes met over Ammu's head.





 

"Donkey!"

                                                                     “Donkey!”

Ammu skipped happily out into the garden after her breakfast. All was well in Ammu's universe. Today, to add to her sense of elation, she had just found out that maistri, the goldsmith, was coming to start work on her aunt’s jewellery. Her aunt and family, who lived abroad, had come to India on a long stay. Ammu loved watching the little bars of gold morphing into works of art in maistri’s hands. She sat on a stool next to him and plied him with a million questions; Natarajan answered them all quietly, sometimes looking up at the round face and sparkling eyes with a gentle smile saying, “Just wait till you get married, child, I will make fabulous jewellery for you”. Ammu liked the maistri. He did not shoo her away as other adults sometimes did when her restless energy got on their nerves. Also, he talked to her as he would to an adult.

She sat on the stone seat under the jackfruit tree and looked up at the golden shafts of sunlight coming in through the canopy of leaves. She sighed contentedly thinking of the long day ahead, and the things she would do. First on the agenda was watching maistri at work in the small place built exclusively for that purpose in the backyard. Ammu did a half-skip, half-walk towards the workshop.

She heard voices up there where Natarajan worked, and idly wondered who was talking to him. Ammu had her own special stool to sit next to the goldsmith and watch him work his magic on boring looking yellow metal bits. Ammu tripped up to the door and was brought up short on the scene before her eyes. There, drawn up close to Natarajan, was her newly arrived cousin, sitting on her precious stool!

“What are you doing here?” she asked her cousin standing arms akimbo in front of him.

Ravi raised his head and smiled at her. “Hello! Isn’t this wonderful! I’m getting to watch jewellery being made! Would you like to watch it too?”

Anger exploded inside Ammu, and her round face got all red and fierce “Watch it too!” she said “How dare you come and sit on my stool! That is my seat, and I always sit there and watch maistri work!”

“Ammukutty,” Natarjan called gently “your brother’s never seen anything like this. Let him watch it, I’ll get you a stool from the house!”

“That’s my stool!” said Ammu and stamped her feet. “Only mine! No one else can sit on it!”

For all her five years, Ammu looked infinitely more threatening than the ten year old, who just sat open mouthed at the little fury in front of him.

“Hey! Don’t be silly!” he said thinking he was making amends. “It doesn’t have your name written on it, does it?”

Ammu looked at his slightly plump, soft face smiling at her, and lost complete control.

“Donkey!” she shouted and gave a resounding slap on his cheek.

Natarajan stopped blowing into the fire, and wiped his hands slowly watching the two children.

Ravi sat speechless holding his cheek, which was red and smarting from Ammu’s slap.

Ammu was uncomfortable. She knew she had crossed a boundary, she was ashamed, and a little afraid of what would follow. Her anger had disappeared into thin air.

“You horrid girl!” said Ravi bursting into tears to the astonishment of the goldsmith and Ammu. “You horrid, horrid, girl! Wait till Mummy hears of this!”

Ravi got up and ran sobbing into the house.

Ammu sniffed and pulled up the stool and sat quietly watching maistri.

“That was not very nice of you, child” said the goldsmith.

“He was sitting on my stool!” said Ammu “Its mine, mine, mine!”

“He is here on a holiday. Try to be nice to him.”

“He is stupid, maistri,” said Ammu “ You should hear him talk about being kind to flowers and plants. I want to pinch him then!”

Natarajan chuckled, and smiled to himself. “Ammu, child, people are different. Be kind to him.”

“Will Grandma be angry with me, you think?” asked Ammu fidgeting with her dress.

“We’ll see,” said Natarajan . “It’s your lunchtime now, I think. I am going out to get some things, and will be back only in the afternoon.”

Ammu got up and walked slowly back to the house. Grandmother will have something to say about her behavior this morning. Grandmother abhorred temper tantrums and summarily dealt with it. And her aunt… Ammu got even more uncomfortable thinking about her. It was not right to slap Ravi, but he did so provoke her. Stupid little goody two shoes, she thought. Ammu took a deep breath, and stepped into the living room. Grandfather was reclining in the easy-chair, beating a tattoo on the arm of the chair.

“Your aunt wants to talk to you, Ammu” he said.

Ammu froze. “What for grandfather?” she asked.

“Why don’t you go up, and ask her about it? It seems that boy has a fever.” He said and looked quizzically at Ammu.

“Fever?” said Ammu “but he was alright when I saw him.”

“You were with Ravi this morning?” Grandfather sat up.

“Yes….” Ammu was on her way up to her aunt’s room.

“Oh there you are you naughty girl!” she heard her aunt trill, from inside the room.

“Look what’s happened to your brother. He has developed a fever.”

 said aunt and pointed towards the bed.

Ammu saw Ravi all bundled up and under a blanket. His face looked flushed and uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t, thought Ammu, in this heat and under a blanket!

She suddenly felt tremendous pity for the boy lying there in the bed.

Very naughty of you, to have slapped him and called him a donkey,” admonished aunt. “But you can give him a kiss and say you are sorry. Kiss and make up dear.”

Ammu looked up in horror at her aunt’s plump perspiring face. All that pink stuff on her face is melting she thought with an intense desire to giggle. She has a moustache, thought Ammu. I must tell this to grandfather.

“Ok.” she said going up to Ravi. She gave a peck on his cheek saying tonelessly “Iam sorry I called you donkey. I’m sorry I slapped you.” She did not sound sorry at all, she looked disgusted and slightly mutinous. “Do you really have a fever?” she asked Ravi.

He looked helplessly at his mother.

“Of course he does. Its an emotional thing, darling . He was so upset because you slapped him, he came out in a fever. He is very sensitive that way, aren’t you, precious ?” she cooed moving towards him.

Ravi cringed and looked at Ammu. She gave him one pitying look and fled downstairs.

“Pax?” asked Grandfather twinkling at her.

“What’s pax?” asked Ammu perching on the arm of the easy chair.

“Never mind. That boy needs a few more slaps to make him tough.” Ammu laughed, but stopped suddenly.

She met the stern eyes of her grandmother who had just come in. “This kind of behavior is unacceptable Ammu. And you can help by not encouraging her,” she said turning to Grandfather who looked a little shamefaced.

Ammu got up and went her way to the swing, her swing— she told herself swinging herself high towards the branches of the mango tree. “This is my tree, my swing, my house…” she said looking at the beloved house with the tiled gables as the swing rose and fell.

                                                                    “Donkey!”

Ammu skipped happily out into the garden after her breakfast. All was well in Ammu's universe. Today, to add to her sense of elation, she had just found out that maistri, the goldsmith, was coming to start work on her aunt’s jewellery. Her aunt and family, who lived abroad, had come to India on a long stay. Ammu loved watching the little bars of gold morphing into works of art in maistri’s hands. She sat on a stool next to him and plied him with a million questions; Natarajan answered them all quietly, sometimes looking up at the round face and sparkling eyes with a gentle smile saying, “Just wait till you get married, child, I will make fabulous jewellery for you”. Ammu liked the maistri. He did not shoo her away as other adults sometimes did when her restless energy got on their nerves. Also, he talked to her as he would to an adult.

She sat on the stone seat under the jackfruit tree and looked up at the golden shafts of sunlight coming in through the canopy of leaves. She sighed contentedly thinking of the long day ahead, and the things she would do. First on the agenda was watching maistri at work in the small place built exclusively for that purpose in the backyard. Ammu did a half-skip, half-walk towards the workshop.

She heard voices up there where Natarajan worked, and idly wondered who was talking to him. Ammu had her own special stool to sit next to the goldsmith and watch him work his magic on boring looking yellow metal bits. Ammu tripped up to the door and was brought up short on the scene before her eyes. There, drawn up close to Natarajan, was her newly arrived cousin, sitting on her precious stool!

“What are you doing here?” she asked her cousin standing arms akimbo in front of him.

Ravi raised his head and smiled at her. “Hello! Isn’t this wonderful! I’m getting to watch jewellery being made! Would you like to watch it too?”

Anger exploded inside Ammu, and her round face got all red and fierce “Watch it too!” she said “How dare you come and sit on my stool! That is my seat, and I always sit there and watch maistri work!”

“Ammukutty,” Natarjan called gently “your brother’s never seen anything like this. Let him watch it, I’ll get you a stool from the house!”

“That’s my stool!” said Ammu and stamped her feet. “Only mine! No one else can sit on it!”

For all her five years, Ammu looked infinitely more threatening than the ten year old, who just sat open mouthed at the little fury in front of him.

“Hey! Don’t be silly!” he said thinking he was making amends. “It doesn’t have your name written on it, does it?”

Ammu looked at his slightly plump, soft face smiling at her, and lost complete control.

“Donkey!” she shouted and gave a resounding slap on his cheek.

Natarajan stopped blowing into the fire, and wiped his hands slowly watching the two children.

Ravi sat speechless holding his cheek, which was red and smarting from Ammu’s slap.

Ammu was uncomfortable. She knew she had crossed a boundary, she was ashamed, and a little afraid of what would follow. Her anger had disappeared into thin air.

“You horrid girl!” said Ravi bursting into tears to the astonishment of the goldsmith and Ammu. “You horrid, horrid, girl! Wait till Mummy hears of this!”

Ravi got up and ran sobbing into the house.

Ammu sniffed and pulled up the stool and sat quietly watching maistri.

“That was not very nice of you, child” said the goldsmith.

“He was sitting on my stool!” said Ammu “Its mine, mine, mine!”

“He is here on a holiday. Try to be nice to him.”

“He is stupid, maistri,” said Ammu “ You should hear him talk about being kind to flowers and plants. I want to pinch him then!”

Natarajan chuckled, and smiled to himself. “Ammu, child, people are different. Be kind to him.”

“Will Grandma be angry with me, you think?” asked Ammu fidgeting with her dress.

“We’ll see,” said Natarajan . “It’s your lunchtime now, I think. I am going out to get some things, and will be back only in the afternoon.”

Ammu got up and walked slowly back to the house. Grandmother will have something to say about her behavior this morning. Grandmother abhorred temper tantrums and summarily dealt with it. And her aunt… Ammu got even more uncomfortable thinking about her. It was not right to slap Ravi, but he did so provoke her. Stupid little goody two shoes, she thought. Ammu took a deep breath, and stepped into the living room. Grandfather was reclining in the easy-chair, beating a tattoo on the arm of the chair.

“Your aunt wants to talk to you, Ammu” he said.

Ammu froze. “What for grandfather?” she asked.

“Why don’t you go up, and ask her about it? It seems that boy has a fever.” He said and looked quizzically at Ammu.

“Fever?” said Ammu “but he was alright when I saw him.”

“You were with Ravi this morning?” Grandfather sat up.

“Yes….” Ammu was on her way up to her aunt’s room.

“Oh there you are you naughty girl!” she heard her aunt trill, from inside the room.

“Look what’s happened to your brother. He has developed a fever.”

 said aunt and pointed towards the bed.

Ammu saw Ravi all bundled up and under a blanket. His face looked flushed and uncomfortable. Who wouldn’t, thought Ammu, in this heat and under a blanket!

She suddenly felt tremendous pity for the boy lying there in the bed.

Very naughty of you, to have slapped him and called him a donkey,” admonished aunt. “But you can give him a kiss and say you are sorry. Kiss and make up dear.”

Ammu looked up in horror at her aunt’s plump perspiring face. All that pink stuff on her face is melting she thought with an intense desire to giggle. She has a moustache, thought Ammu. I must tell this to grandfather.

“Ok.” she said going up to Ravi. She gave a peck on his cheek saying tonelessly “Iam sorry I called you donkey. I’m sorry I slapped you.” She did not sound sorry at all, she looked disgusted and slightly mutinous. “Do you really have a fever?” she asked Ravi.

He looked helplessly at his mother.

“Of course he does. Its an emotional thing, darling . He was so upset because you slapped him, he came out in a fever. He is very sensitive that way, aren’t you, precious ?” she cooed moving towards him.

Ravi cringed and looked at Ammu. She gave him one pitying look and fled downstairs.

“Pax?” asked Grandfather twinkling at her.

“What’s pax?” asked Ammu perching on the arm of the easy chair.

“Never mind. That boy needs a few more slaps to make him tough.” Ammu laughed, but stopped suddenly.

She met the stern eyes of her grandmother who had just come in. “This kind of behavior is unacceptable Ammu. And you can help by not encouraging her,” she said turning to Grandfather who looked a little shamefaced.

Ammu got up and went her way to the swing, her swing— she told herself swinging herself high towards the branches of the mango tree. “This is my tree, my swing, my house…” she said looking at the beloved house with the tiled gables as the swing rose and fell.

Wistful magic

This song kept running through my head all through my flight to the US and back. It probably, unconsciously echoes my feelings.

Yeh Nayan Dare Dare - Hemant Kumar - KOHRA

The Birhday Cake

"Its my birthday next week," said Ammu drawing up a stool next to Grandfather's chair.
"And how old will you be?" asked Grandfather looking at his favorite over the top of his glasses.
"Eleven," Ammu screwed up her nose "that is almost twelve,isn't it grandfather?"
"Eleven cannot be twelve, child" Grandfather smiled. "Don't be in a hurry to grow up. That will happen anyway." He added wistfully .
"I had a party last year when I was at Bangalore" Ammu reminisced, doodling on the arm of the reclining chair."I invited the entire class home. We had cake, ice cream, chips,lots of it."
Grandfather looked up sharply at the note of longing in Ammu's voice.
"What kind of cake?"he asked.
Ammu looked up her face all animated."Chocolate cake! And from Nilgiris. It had Happy Birthday Ammu on it in icing. Oh Grandfather! It was the best cake ever!!"
Grandfather looked at Ammus eyes shining with the memory of that wonderful party. His made up his mind.
"That's it Ammukutty," he said "You'll have your birthday cake this year as well."
"I will?" asked an ecstatic Ammu throwing herself on her grandfather hugging and kissing him."Oh,Grandfather, thank you, thank you!!" She ran singing to her cousin's room down the passage "Sudechi!I'm getting a birthday cake!!"

"And how do you propose to do it?" asked Grandmother when she brought in grandfather's tea. 
"I will ask Gopalan to get it for me. He knows where to get them, bakeries I mean. Ammu is missing the life she had in Bangalore."
"You cannot replicate it" said Grandmother."I like to celebrate it our way with payasam, and neiyyappam and a small archana at the temple. I will be doing that anyway cake or no cake."
"I want to do this for her." Grandfather had an obstinate note in his voice and Grandmother knew that wild horses could not drag him now from this project.
"You talk to Gopalan." she said collecting the tea things.

Gopalan came over that evening and Grandfather told him all about the cake.
"The birthday is only next week," said Gopalan standing respectfully near Grandfather's chair. "There's plenty of time. I'll get it from SLN Bakery the day before or even that very afternoon."
"Can't take a chance. " said grandfather "I want you to get the cake tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" asked Gopalan surprised. "Sir, do you think it will keep till next week?"
"Of course!" said Grandfather impatiently " Here's the money. Get a nice big chocolate cake with 'Happy Birthday Ammu  from Grandfather and Grandmother with love' on it in icing."
Gopalan obediently wrote everything down and showed it to Grandfather who scanned the details and nodded his approval.

The cake arrived the next day. It was all that Ammu wanted and more, said Gopalan.
"We won't be opening it now" said Grandfather.

They all stood around the wonderful looking box from SLN Bakery.
"Sudechi! that's my birthday cake!" thrilled Ammu to her cousin who was a sophisticated eighteen studying in college.
Sudha was child enough to be excited at this unusual turn of affairs. "Grandma, where will we keep it? In the pantry?"
"I have a plan," said Grandfather "we will keep in the macrame pot holder in that passage adjacent to Sudha's room."
"Why there?" asked Ammu.
"It's well protected from drafts, that passage. cake won't spoil."

Grandmother's face was inscrutable." I'll get Ponni to do that." she said and quickly left the room.

'Oh! Grandfather!" cried Ammu "I'm so excited! I can't wait for my birthday to arrive! Can't wait for the cake!"
"If the rats don't get it before us." said Sudha laconically sashaying out to her favorite perch on the window seat with a book.
"Rats, Grandfather?" Ammu looked at him anxiously.
"Never mind Sudha, child. She is just teasing you." Grandfather smiled fondly at Ammu. "I'll look after your cake."
Ammu was relieved. Grandfather knows best she thought. "I'm going to call my friends from next door on my birthday. We'll have a party!" she talked to herself running to the wicket gate that separated her house from the neighbours.

Ammu and Sudha watched jealously over the cake, well ensconced in the macrame pot holder. It hung there in the middle of the passage and Sudha 's room was just across it. Grandfather came regularly every morning and night to check the box for signs of vandalism. No signs. So far so good.
On the eve of her birhday, Ammu got a huge parcel from her mother. All kinds of goodies came out of it. Books, clothes, trinkets, not just for Ammu. For Sudha as well. Sudha loved the silk skirt and rainbow colored bangles.
"You mother is very nice." she told Ammu. "She always gets me things."
Ammu smiled happily. Not a jealous bone in her body. There were hand knitted sweaters for Grandfather and Grandmother as well.
"Sudechi, tomorrow we'll eat the cake!" Ammu's eyes sparkled as she pranced around wearing a dress her mother sent.

The next day Ammu had to go to school as it was a working day. She could not concentrate. She saw "Chocolate Cake" everywhere.
She burst in to the house in the evening, and throwing her bag on her bed, she ran to her grandfather. There in the center of the octogonal table  sat the cake box .The plates were all neatly arranged. The knife resting near the box.
Grandfather was the expert in cutting anything. He made an art of it. He would do the same with the cake.
Sudha was back from the college and they all stood around the table.
"Grandmother, shall I call Radha and others from next door?"asked Ammu excitedly.
"Wait till the cake is cut,child" said Grandmother "Don't be in a hurry."
Nobody ever went against what Grandmother said.
The cake box was tied up with a string, and Grandfather untied it slowly and ceremoniously. They all waited with bated breath. Now comes the cake they thought.

The box opened and they were aghast at the mouldy mass that sat inside.
"My cake!" sobbed Ammu "Where's my cake?"
Sudha was in splits. "That's your cake Ammu, with all the mould growing out of it. It's spoilt! "
Ammu turned to Grandfather her eyes brimming with tears "You told me that it would not get spoilt! You told me you would look after it!"
Grandfather looked shamefaced.
"What a lot nonsense!" said Grandmother crisply. "Ammu stop crying like a baby. These things happen. It could have been the cake; could have been the bakery. And then, we've had  unusually humid weather this past ten days. That can definitely spoil anything."
Ammu stretched out her finger and traced the icing on the mouldy cake."Happy Birthday Ammu from Grandfather and Grandmother with love." it said.
She turned to Grandfather."Thanks Grandfather! "she said hugging him "You remembered the icing!"
"I am sorry it turned out this way" said Grandfather "I thought you missed your Bangalore birthday parties."
"Here children," said Grandmother "Come eat the neiyyappam and drink the payasam I made for the birthday." She set the plates and the little cups on the table.
"Ooh! my favorite!"said Ammu "I love neiyyappam. Don't you Sudechi?"
They sat round the table tucking into the food and the cake sat forlornly in the center.

Symbiosis

View from India: The Snake In The Backyard

by Parvathi

You never felt the blistering heat of North Indian summer when you were young. Playing in the shade of the huge, branching Mahua tree, the four children and dog were oblivious to everything except their mysterious game. Nina, the Alsatian, lay near them, tongue hanging out, a loving watchful eye on the group. Mahua flowers, heavy with scent, fell softly carpeting the grass. The villagers would be by later, to pick them. Their potent local brew was made from the Mahua flowers.

The four children were playing in the back yard, and behind them lay the big kitchen garden neatly divided into plots and carefully tended by Bahadur. He sat near the kitchen door, smiling inscrutably, watching the children play, enjoying his little break while Mrs. K. partook of her elevenses inside.

Suddenly Nina stood up growling, and stood protectively in front of the children. Bahadur stopped fanning himself, and stood up, a frown on his brow.

"Children, children, please go inside; Nina, inside, inside!!" Bahadur cried out loudly.

M. looked up. "We are staying here!" she said setting her mouth in an obstinate line. "Why are you disturbing us?"

"Why?" repeated little B. He always repeated what his sister said.

The other two did not raise their heads, still engrossed in their play. Nina growled louder and more threateningly, and gave a short, sharp bark looking at the four children.

"Uf,ohhh! Nina!" said M. "What is the matter with you?"

Nina barked again, and it seemed as if she was trying to draw their attention to something in the yard.

Bahadur was there picking up the toys. “Better you go inside now,” he said. “Play when the sun is down."

B. suddenly gave a cry and pointed at something near the garden wall. The children turned and looked. It was a snake. Long and gleaming stretched out against the wall.

"Snake!" screamed C., already half way to the house, "Mama, Mama!!" The rest hurtled after her. B. stood sucking his thumb, watching this sudden visitor, till Bahadur scooped him up. "Come Chota Babu, let's go inside."

B. had never seen a snake before in all his brief three years.

Nina stood her ground and growled making sure her brood was safely home.

"Mama, Mama! There's a snake in the kitchen garden!" C. shouted, hurtling into the living room where her mother looked up from her tea.

"Snake?" said Mrs. K. startled, spilling some of the hot liquid. "Where? Bahadur, where's this snake? What are you doing about it? The children play outside all the time. God, what do we do now?"

Mrs. K. was nervous and upset. "Where are the children?" she asked, placing her cup on the table.

"They ok Memsaab," said Bahadur. "They watch snake," he said smiling.

"What do you mean?" said Mrs. K. and rushed inside to find the children standing on the deep sill in the bedroom, looking at the snake through the window. Mrs. K. took up a position behind them. Yes, there it was, long, very long, and gleaming.

"I like its skin," said M. "Auntie, is it nice to touch?"

A look of horror crossed Mrs. K.'s face. "Touch?" she said. "You don't touch a snake! And don't you go about doing such things!"

"Nithe!" lisped B., still sucking on his thumb.

They heard footsteps at the door. "Daddy!" sang C. "My Daddy's home! My Daddy's home!" she danced around her father who picked her up and swung her around.

"Hello kids!” he said. "So what's happening?"

"Snake, uncle! There's a snake in the backyard !" said M. swinging her pigtails.

"If I'd known there were snakes around I would not have allowed the children to play outside," said Mrs. K.

Nina gave a volley of barks, putting in her little piece. She simply adored Mr. K. and he likewise.

"Hey Nina! Glad you were out there with them," said K. fondling Nina's neck. "Bahadur..."

Bahadur came to the door. "It’s alright, Sahib. It’s only that cobra that lives in the back yard."

Mrs. K. could not believe her ears! "Cobra that lives in the back yard!?” she said incredulously. “Well, I never! …and with children running around?"

"It’s like this," K. said, sitting down with the children and Nina all around him. "It’s been there for a long time. I forget how long. It dug itself, or found itself, a long tunnel that starts in our back yard and comes out after little B.'s house. Sometimes it comes out and just lies there enjoying itself. It’s very peaceful.

"I sit there and read in winters. I think he knows I will never harm him. They know, animals do, you know. They know who means to harm them and who does not. They only attack in self-defense. They do not plot to kill; nor do they kill for pleasure. That sort of behavior is only from us". He winked at them.

"We don't harm animals, uncle," they chorused.

"Good," he said. "This snake likes to live in peace, and he likes my backyard, so we live in symbiotic harmony." This was addressed to Mrs. K. who stood listening with a puzzled frown on her face. "Bahadur knows about the snake. That's why he watches out for you in the back yard."

The four turned to Bahadur. "You know all about the snake! You are not afraid?" They crowded closer to K. "Tell us about the snake, Bahadur; tell us about the snake!" and they got up and trailed behind him on his way to the kitchen.

"All right," K. and Mrs. K. heard him telling the foursome and dog. "Now all of you sit quiet and I will tell you the story of the snake in the kitchen garden."

K. smiled at his wife gently, "Don't worry. The snake has been here ever since I moved into the house. Some say he's been here ever since they can remember."

He parted the curtains and looked out into the backyard. The snake was still there, long and gleaming.


In fond memory of Kipling's "Rikki Tikki Tavi."