“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.