It was a foggy morning. The sun was yawning, scattering fresh light that penetrated like a needle through the early morning fog. I strained to see more of the panoramic view through the rusted grills of the window. My eyes were sticky with sleep and were closing in a rapid fashion. I rubbed hard against my eyes and stumbled through the old wooden door. There was a loud clang and the resounding tremors of vessels rattling. I stopped short. I felt a pang of fear grasping me with all might. I fumbled against the walls and managed to make an impression with a switch. Light flooded all over the room. I strained my misty eyes to make sense out of where I was. To my horror I discovered that I had walked into the kitchen of the old outhouse and had upset most of the vessels. I felt a sting of desperation to get away form this dingy place. I looked at my hands with a feeling of sadness and a hint of aversion. It was almost brick red with slashes of deep colored lines cutting the hands in no particular fashion. I leaned against the wall and my eyes found its way to an old dirty bag that looked like a dead rat in the corner of the shelf. I went to explore the bag, first making sure that it wasn’t a dead rat. I sniffed hard at it and finding it to be innocuous, I ripped it open. I let out a terrifying yell that would have probably woken up the entire street. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks. I bent down to pick up the object of my pain. It was an old heavy hammer. I was boiling with anger and banged the hammer against the wall and let out a huge sigh. All was quiet for a moment. But that was only for a moment. I felt some powdery substance raining on my head. I was contemplating what it could probably be when the entire wall collapsed, partly burying me in the debris. *
It was only yesterday that had been just like any other day. I had got up around 10 in the morning and was having bed coffee or rather bed milk. The peace of drinking milk in the bed with the ambience so very quiet was spoilt suddenly with the buzzing of my mobile phone. I sighed hard and reached out for it cursing who could be calling so early in the morning. I saw my small cousin’s name flashing in the display. I answered.
“Good morning! Calling so early?”
“I never knew 10 in the morning was very early for you,” retorted my cousin sardonically.
“Ah! Don’t you dare mock me, your treat is at stake,” I said with an ominous hint.
“Forget it! When are you coming to the hotel?” she asked impatiently.
“I will be there in an hour”
“Great! And make sure you bring your purse full,” my cousin reminded.
I took an extra deep sigh. I was going to treat my cousin today for a reason that I really didn’t remember.
I was soon speeding through the smooth roads of the ECR to a lesser-known hotel. My small cousin had insisted that she wanted to taste food there. I was soon at gate of the hotel. She was already there and greeted me with a big shriek and almost dragged me inside. I looked around the place with interest. I had never been to such a damp and a soggy hotel. It had those faint yellow and green bulbs hanging randomly from the thatched roof making it difficult to capture everything even with eyeglasses on. My cousin had already selected a corner and I seated myself opposite to her.
“What the hell!” I exclaimed unconsciously. “What kind of place is this?” I demanded her.
“Why?!? It is the hottest spot in the city now!” she replied exuberantly.
I smirked. I thought it would probably pass as the coldest spot in the city.I glanced at the menu card and let out a gasp. It was what I would describe as ‘crazy menu’. For one thing the menu was in tamil. Rather English spelt tamil. I am no great scholar at tamil and I had difficulty to decipher the dish names. All the dishes were given crazy or what they might have considered as ‘funky’ names like ‘lakalaka briyani’ and ‘gethu curd’. I was almost in splits when the waiter came to take the order. Trying to suppress my laughter, I ordered for a plate of ‘lakalaka briyani’ and my cousin ordered a plate of ‘Thiruvilayaadal roast’. During the wait for the most anticipated meal, my cousin couldn’t stop praising the taste of all the dishes in that shop. Soon our table was covered with the ordered dishes. I was totally devastated to see was in front of me. It was auburn rice mixed with traces of decayed beans and the smallest specks of carrots that you might have to use your magnifying glass to find it in the brown heap. I felt like throwing up but I controlled my strong emotions. I was surprised to see my cousin gobbling avariciously at the over roasted thiruvilayadal. I made an attempt to taste it. The moment I inserted a piece of it into my mouth, I jumped. My tongue was on fire. I was dead sure that the hotel owner must have brought the entire chilli stock in the country and was using it without discretion. My cousin was still stuffing herself wiping the plate clean. It was now sparkling as if it was straight from the store shelf. I kept my feelings to myself as we left the hotel.
“So how did you like it?” I asked my cousin.
“Yah! Fantastic taste!” was the immediate reply.
I shook my head sadly and I shifted my gaze to the calm waters of the beach. I was about to dip my legs into the soothing waters, when my cousin started to make some impatient noises.
“What next? Shall we go home?” I asked her with not much of a hope of getting the reply I wanted.
“No way! I am still hungry. Do you call one dosa a treat?” she demanded.
“I didn’t stop you from ordering more” I replied.
“Let us go to pizza place,” she suggested.
I really didn’t have an option but just to obey her. It was better to adhere to her wishes than to get a homily from my parents for not taking care of my little cousin wishes. We were tucking in the pizzas when my mobile started to ring again,
“Hey! What’s up?” my friend’s voice shot over the phone.
“I am at the pizza place with my cousin,” I replied.
“Whoa! Then you get me a pepperoni pizza,” she cajoled.
I was probably in a good mood to have accepted her wheedle. Actually, anyone would be in a good mood to be eating a scrumptious pizza after tasting the ‘lakalaka briyani’.
*
We soon left the pizza place with the NV pizza in my hand. My friend lives in the winding street of the conservative, religious colony of people. It would probably be the only area in India to have the maximum stock of Brahmins at a single place. I marched up to the steep steps of her house and rang the bell. No reply. I pressed again. It was then my cousin pointed to the huge lock dangling in front of me. I was vexed. I had spent couple of hundreds on a pizza, which I won’t be able to devour. I tried reaching her mobile and found that she was out of coverage area. I cursed and we started walking towards our vehicle. I left my cousin in her house and I was contemplating what to do with the pizza. Sinking it in the adyar bridge seemed to be an interesting idea. It was then I remembered that my mother had asked me to get some ‘vadams’ and ‘appalams’ from a ‘maami’ living at the conservative colony. I parked my vehicle outside the gate and found my way to the door. It was the typical old-fashioned house with a big garden and a spacious veranda. I placed the pizza on the veranda and waited for the maami to come. She was soon welcoming me and said that my mother’s orders were ready and she needed some 15 minutes to get it packed. I made myself comfortable in a very old rocking chair that probably belonged to her great grandfather and with all the morning happenings, I dozed off in the chair. I woke up suddenly hit by the smell of the pizza.
I was aghast to see what was taking place before me. The two little grandsons of the maami were devouring the NV pizza. I rushed at them and took the pizza box away and asked them to spit it out. I knew a little too much about the ‘aachaarams’ of their family and I became disconcerted. I ran with the box to the outhouse to dump it in a bin. I opened the rusted door and looked around for a waste bin. It was then I heard the maami calling and as I was about to rush back to the house, I tripped on something and sent the pizzas flying. It landed on a vessel, which was filled with some liquid. I realised that I had put the pizzas in the ‘javarisi vadam maavu’.
By this time, maami was already on her way to the outhouse to see what was happening. I quickly shut the door and ran inside the house.
“I thought you left!” maami said smiling.
“Er..no. I was actually taking a stroll in your garden.” I mumbled.
“We are going to pondicherry today and we will be back only after 2 days” maami said.
I soon paid and left. But even after going home, the guilt of making the javarisi vadam into pepperoni vadam was pricking me so much that I came to a conclusion. I searched the attics of my house to find the vadam making recipe book and I learnt the recipe by heart and decided to sneak into the maami’s house in the night to set right the blunder committed. I went to her
house and saw that they had already left for pondicherry. I made my way through a hedge to the outhouse and checked the door. It was thankfully not locked. I went in and started to make the arasi vadam maavu by myself with the guidance of the torchlight. It was quite a huge outhouse with another room and kitchen. While I was busy in the preparation, I dint hear the sound of someone locking the outhouse door and leaving. What had happened was that the maami had realized on her way to the bus stand that she had forgotten to lock the outhouse and had asked the neighbour with the duplicate key to lock it. Amidst lots of burns that I landed up saving for my hand, I finished the maavu. But I was locked in the house.
I was still sitting among the mess when the sun poured through the window. It was also then I realised that there was another exit to the outhouse through the other room that I didn’t care to see. I thankfully made my way to my house and crept in without waking anybody and took a bath and made myself clean. I started to read a book.
*
Two days later, I heard my mother telling my father that someone had broken into vadam maami’s house and had ruined everything there.
I saw my mom looking at me. I replied,
“It must have been a cat” and continued to read my book.
**
