by Parvathi Jayamohan
[box] Five-year-old Tashu is a worried girl and there are enough reasons for her worry, including her two slightly-older cousins who are enjoying all the fun that comes from scaring her. Parvathi Jayamohan writes a story to celebrate the spirit of the November 2010 issue themed ‘A Tribute to Childhood’.[/box] [box type=”info”]MONTH: November 2010
THEME: A TRIBUTE TO CHILDHOOD
CONCEPT: True to the spirit of November, we picked up childhood as a topic to explore.
FEATURED PERSONALITIES OF NOVEMBER 2010:
Kalpana Sharma, Indpendent journalist and columnist
Radhika Menon, CEO, Tulika Publishers
Raksha Bharadia, Author of many titles of Indian Chicken Soup series, ‘Roots and Wings : A Handbook for Parents’ and ‘All and Nothing’
Laugh, rejoice and be carefree. Childhood is one theme that sure would send anyone down memory lane. With the November 2010 issue, we went a step ahead and ensured that it wasn’t just memories that a theme such as this should evoke – we reined in aspects of childhood that are highly relevant today – social issues concerning children, as well as one that holds good for the future – the parenting style adopted today and the sort of future leaders it creates. Our interviews largely focused on these perspectives. [/box]
Tashu’s Appa gave her one of his unfavourable looks. She wondered what it was that she did now. Her cousins stood beside her, consumed with silent joy. This couldn’t be good, Tashu thought. When Appa had walked over to his friends, Mittu and Mottu went close to Tashu and whispered as though the most magical moment ever awaited her, “You will get it from him for sure. Our Appa uses guava sticks. Valliappa is only going to slap you…he…he will, won’t he?”
It all started when her Appa’s friends had drawn up their car onto the driveway. Tashu had been playing and fighting with her cousins. They were playing the shop game and debating heatedly on who gets to run the “shop”. The “shop” primarily sold sugar (white sand), rice (white sand again), hair oil (water mixed with the cellulose squeezed out of shoe plant leaves) and soap (empty packets of Lux). It was much more fun being the shopkeeper than the customer, because as a shopkeeper you got to weigh things in the balance, the sacred device that Tashu’s elder sister once constructed out of rope and coconut shells. So there were always two shopkeepers and one customer. The odd one out, the pushover was the customer, and Tashu wasn’t entertaining any nominations.
Vishwa uncle had got out of the driver’s seat of the car, and his wife, Sarasu, from the other side. They had stood wearing beaming smiles. Tashu liked Vishwa uncle, he was a polished fellow with a French beard and tinted spectacles. Aunty had short curly hair which she left open and a nose stud on her tiny nose. She was alright, though Tashu knew she liked other little girls more than her. But Tashu disliked the club they and Appa belonged to, because at the club, with other adults around, they were a bunch of loud bores. Vishwa uncle stood by the car itself and asked, “Molu, is daddy home?”
“Yes he is.”
“There is a get together at the club tomorrow, are you coming?”
“No way!”
“Why? You should come to the club too. It will be lots of fun with you around.”
“I am not coming to the club,” Tashu had said, rolling her eyes.
“Why not? What’s so bad about the club?”
“What’s so bad??” she had said indignantly and then spat sideways with what she believed was contemptuous humour.
Vishwa uncle had laughed and Tashu had smiled. At five, Tashu couldn’t yet distinguish between laughs laughed because people were amused and laughs laughed to humour her. Her cousins had stood giggling, their mouths covered with the shoe plant leaves they had plucked for preparing the special oil.
“Go to your room and wait,” Appa’s voice had commanded from behind her, the abruptness of which had jolted Tashu. How long had he been standing there? Tashu had looked to her audience –Vishwa uncle and Sarasu aunty were looking elsewhere and her cousins had stared at her with glinting eyes, their mouths still covered. She had turned to her Appa again to catch his unfavourable look and her cousins’ whispers.
***
Tashu did as her Appa told. Her cousins followed her into the room. She sensed their purpose was torture, but Tashu wanted company. As boys, they were more experienced in the ways of fatherly fury. So no matter what they said, their presence rendered a sense of normalcy to the situation.
Tashu still couldn’t believe it entirely. May be the moment will never arrive, when Appa comes over to scold and slap. Maybe her cousins were just thinking their hopes out aloud. But Appa’s face… the face wasn’t good… She had disappointed Appa.
“Have I done something? Really?” Tashu asked her cousins, as she slid up her bed and grabbed a pillow. Mittu said nothing; he was too engrossed in undressing her Barbie. Her elder cousin, the one who was easier on her, took her blue glitter pen and wrote on her hand: Let’s see what happens and drew a Mickey Mouse.
Tashu knew her Appa wasn’t a violent man but he needed a means to distinguish between the degrees of misbehaviour. First degree misbehaviour: grim lips and “is this really how you should be behaving?” Second degree: straightforward scolding with character references, especially to stupidity. Third degree: the slap on the arm or the back.
Tashu didn’t know how bad it was this time. But she realised her crime had been the spitting. No saliva had left her mouth, it was only symbolic spitting. Tashu hoped it counted for something.
Her cousins slipped out as her Appa entered the bedroom. He didn’t slap her. He just stood there, looking straight at her and then asked, “How would you feel if someone spat in disgust at your nice remarks?” Tashu picked up her naked Barbie. She wasn’t sure if she should explain, but she made a go of it all the same. “I was only trying to be funny, Appa…” “And how was it funny?” He snapped. Tashu said nothing. Her Appa left the room, locking the door behind him. But surely, they had all laughed, right? Tashu sat back, slouching on her bed and looked towards the closed bedroom window. From beyond, Tashu heard the parting whizz of a car and her cousins laughing and playing.
Parvathi Jayamohan spends her time with books, family, friends and dogs. In the mornings she drinks excessive amounts of tea and in the evenings, she adds tomato sauce to everything she eats. She watches a lot of movies and sitcoms, but avoids foreign films.She prefers sea to mountains, even though she cannot swim. She doesn’t laugh often, but flashes her teeth generously in awkward situations. When avoiding eye contact, she prefer the ceiling to the floor. She make new years’ resolutions and follows through on half of them. She likes being patted and hugged.
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