SLAM!
Over the years, I’d learned all the sounds my front door
made when various people opened it. Its silent creaks after my late
nights out; the mild thuds when my kid threw his school bag at it and
ran back out to play; its prolonged squeak as my wife slowly entered,
wondering what mayhem her favourite men had created while she was gone.
After all these years here, I’d come to trust the door’s warning cries.
This
was the door’s way of telling me to hide. I glanced again at the
window, wondering whether I could survive a fall from the tenth floor of
a multi-storey building. I thought I could, but I’d hate to think of
what would happen to anyone on whom I landed. I hurriedly picked up the
paper and pretended to read it. ”Oh. Lindsay’s getting engaged to her girlfriend, but she says she isn’t gay...nice.”
”Stand still.“ The
familiar voice surrounded me. I fell in love with that voice a long
time ago... I should have just asked for a voice recording instead of
taking the whole package home. I pretended not to listen.
”This is all your fault, you know? You never scold him and let him do anything he wants and ... I told you to stand still!”
Okay.
I wasn’t standing yet, so who was she talking to? I peeked through the
pages... ah yes! They were both here--my wife and kid. From the looks of
it, she’d picked him up from school. From the looks of it, he didn’t
like that. From the looks of it, I would pay for it. I tried to get back
to my newspaper, but Eagle-eye Mommy saw me peeking.
”Roshan, put that paper down. We have to talk.’
I
hoped there was another Roshan in the room reading a paper. I peeked
through my sheets again, looking for him. Nope. No one but us loving
family members... snarling mommy and grumpy junior.
Oh well--time to face the music. I put the paper down.
”Hi
honey, you’re home. How was my day, you ask? Oh, the usual. A couple of
deliveries, an appendix, a quickie with the nurse, another appendix...”
There
was silence. Mind you, this was not the silence of lovers beholding
each other after a decade. It was more like the silence that precedes
that Jaws tune that warns you the shark will bite in the next ten
seconds.
I decided not to continue with my earlier line of conversation. She had learned karate as a teenager. Damn you, Dad-in-law.
”Roshan,
I’m tired of being the bad guy. You never shout at him when he makes a
mistake. You act as if it’s okay and spoil him. I always end up looking
bad before him. Now, look at what he’s done. I’m not going to be the bad
guy here. You’re going to fix this. Do you understand?”
”Sheila,
why don’t you relax, dear? I can see you’re upset and whatever it is,
I’ll handle it. Now why don’t you go take a nice hot shower...?”
“I’m not going anywhere. The moment I leave, you’ll go easy on this kid of yours. I’m staying, mister.”
I
found it charming how he was always ”my kid” when he was in trouble. If
he does well in school or babysits the neighbour’s child, he was ”her
angel”. But if he scribbled ”SEX” on the wall, all of a sudden, my genes
were to blame.
”Okay, fine. You can stay. But no, I mean absolutely no, interruptions. You get it?”
She
harrumphed, which meant that I would have to deal with four
interruptions at the very least. I counted that as a moral victory.
Beggars and husbands can’t be choosers. I looked at her with my ”I wear
the pants in the house” look. She glared back with her ”I’ll tear your
pants to shreds and leave you in the garbage bag” look.
Ah, romance was in the air.
I made junior sit beside me. The love of my life hovered in front of us.
“Okay, son, did something happen in school today?” He shook his head.
”Did you get into trouble with someone in your class?“ Another shake of his head.
”Did
you forget your homework again?“ No--I wondered if I should ask for a
hint at this point of time. Luckily, junior volunteered:
”Dad, I’m getting married.”
”Cool--is she hot?”
“Roshan!”
“I
mean WHAT? You’re getting married?” He nodded. Alright, I made him nod
yes. Who’s the man? It only took four questions and a hint.
”Renjith, I don’t want to be a party pooper and all, but you know, you’re seven years old.“ He looked at me quizzically.
‘What’s
age got to do with it?’ he asked me in an adorable childish voice. I
was like butter in his hands already. I moved to hug him, but a pull at
my receding hairline from fingers above reminded me what I was supposed
to be doing.
”Son, I just think you’re a little young for
marriage. Love too, for that matter. Besides, we didn’t even know you
were in love. Tell me about this girl. What’s her name? How long have
you known her?”
”She--her name is Teena. She’s in my class. We’ve
been in love since last Tuesday. We’ve been sharing our lunch since
yesterday.”
”Hmm--that is a big step in a relationship, I agree. But don’t you think you’re rushing this marriage thing?”
”Why,
daddy? We both have the same pencil box, we both like Ben 10 and she’s
got really good lunch, not like Mommy makes.“ I prayed the moment would
pass unnoticed. That maybe Mommy was lost for a moment in the newspaper
picture of John Abraham. I prayed for a lot of things that God sent to
his spam mail directly.
”Oh, now my cooking is also not good enough for you. Your dad eats it daily and you don’t see him complaining!”
”Daddy eats anything,“ he said simply.
”Hey!” That damn fridge door always gave me away. I stared at my child. He stared back at me. We both knew he was right.
”Okay,
kid. Getting married isn’t that easy. Where will you two stay after the
wedding? And the honeymoon?“ A sharp pull at my hair reminded me that
Sweetiepie was above and didn’t approve of the direction this
conversation was taking.
”Daddy, Teena and I will stay in my room
till we finish school and college. Then I’ll become an astronaut and
build a house on the moon and we’ll live there with our kids. Don’t
worry, Dad. There’ll be a big room for you and mom too.“ Awww... he
would build a room for me too. This adorable little psycho I call my son
loved me.
”And where will you go for your honeymoon?”
”We’re
going to Disneyland.“ What better way to spend private time than with a
mouse with no shirt and a duck with no pants? There was nothing creepy
there at all.
”What will you do for food?“
”Her mom will send us tiffin for lunch and we’ll eat from the fridge for dinner.“ The kid had thought of everything.
”You know... your mom believes in horoscopes...”
”It’s okay, daddy. Ours fits.“
“What...? You checked your horoscopes?”
My
wife intervened. “Show daddy the horoscopes.” I looked up at her. What
was going on? Renjith rummaged through his Johnny Bravo schoolbag (which
I selected.. man, that Johnny Bravo was a cool dude) and took out a
piece of paper from his drawing book. He handed it to me.
I had to
smile. Damn. This was my son. There was no doubt about it. There was no
one else who could have thought this up. Definitely not a child by the
damn milkman! I lowered my head so that my wife couldn’t catch my grin. I
almost didn’t make it. But the phone rang and she left to answer it. I
was saved by the bell. I glanced back at the picture.
He’d drawn a
little crab holding a bull’s hand. I imagined my wife, after years of
being with me, picking up its significance immediately. Our child was
drawing sun signs. He was a Cancer, like his mom. I knew the answer but I
still asked so I could hear him say it.
”What’s Teena’s sign?”
”She’s a Taurus, daddy. That’s the bull one. I’m the crab one. See, both fit nicely.”
”Ah!
I see. Did you draw this?“ He looked at me and smiled in a manner that
recognized that he had noted the hint of pride in my voice. It was a
smile that said he knew I was on his side.
”Roshan!“ Milady again in falsetto broke the moment.
I turned around. She held the cordless in her hand. Her palm covered the speaker end.
”It’s
Teena’s mom. Your son and she apparently decided to tell their parents
at the same time. She’s pretty angry and she’s saying our son’s putting
silly thoughts in her head.”
I held out my hand for the phone. My wife looked at me beseechingly. I signalled her to trust me and then took the phone.
”Hello,
Ma’am. Yes Ma’am. I understand how shocking it must be to hear this
from your child. Yes, I realise this is an innocent age and you don’t
wish to corrupt your child with such thoughts. Yes Ma’am. Yes, I
understand.“ I doubt if she even heard a word I said. She was a
talker--no doubt about it. She was the type that wanted to establish
herself by talking about her status and morality. This would go on
forever unless I did something, I realised..
”Mrs
Bharati...Bharati isn’t it? Well, I understand all that you have said,
but I think I must make myself clear. What’s done is done. But there is
one issue that’s yet to be discussed. You see, as the father of my son, I
must inform you that I demand one crayon set every year till high
school as dowry for your new son-in-law. And I mean Faber-Castell,
lady--not that cheap local stuff. My son doesn’t settle for cheap stuff.
After all, he’s a purebred Ezhava. That’s high class blood running in
him. And yes, he’d like a new Pokemon toy too every month. Hello?
Sheila, is this phone charged? I’m getting static. You think she hung up
on me?”
I turned around to see Sheila smiling at me. I wish I
could tell you it was the coy smile of a love struck Madhuri Dixit, but
it was closer to the smile of that child from the Exorcist movie. I
wondered if perhaps I should have leaped from the tenth storey when I
had the chance. She said little when she smiled like that. I preferred
it that way. God alone knew what language her inner demon spoke when she
was possessed. Heaven knew I could not reply if she started to speak
Hebrew. I could barely communicate when she spoke in her regional
dialect. She raised her hand towards the phone. I gave it to her. She
walked into the bedroom and shut the door.
Slam.
She would
be busy doing damage control with our new in-laws for the next hour. I
would be “dealt with later”. I guessed I would have to sleep in the
guest room tonight. I looked back at my son. He smiled back at me. With
that smile, he could get away with murder. I asked the only thing that
came to my mind at that moment.
”So what does Teena’s mom make for lunch?”
Eight
hours later, the door to the guest room creaked open. I felt her move
into the hollow space beside me. Those cuddly arms wrapped around me
from behind. Her smell was like rain in an arid desert. I pretended to
be asleep. I heard her breath beside my ear and then a whisper.
”I
know you aren’t sleeping. I just want you to know you aren’t entirely
forgiven yet. We’ll discuss your punishment in the morning. For now, go
to sleep. And I swear to God, if you say one word about my being scared
to sleep alone in the dark again, someone will lose two important
anatomical parts in the morning.”
I yawned. “I hope it’s that
stupid Mr Singh in apartment 304. Have you seen his dhoti? He looks as
if he’s hiding a dozen of them in there.”
She tried hard—she
really did. But it was tough not to laugh even at the dumbest jokes of
someone you loved when you’re in love. After all, that’s the rule of
love. That’s the joy of loving someone. They can make dumb into funny.
They can make hell into roses, darkness into daylight.
In the end,
she managed to stifle it down to several coughs. I turned around and
hugged her back. She didn’t resist. Neither of us won the battle that
day, because there never was a battle in the first place, just a
never-ending skit of crazy time–a madness we call our family, which I
would never give up for anything in the world. Not even for little
Teena’s salami and mayonnaise sandwich.
-Roshan Radhakrishnan
