‘What? What else is this?’ my mother said. ‘You are under her spell. You bring
her home. You knead atta for her. You give her two Frootis I had brought for
guests. You are so worried about her. What about me?’
‘What about you, mom?’
‘What is she doing here?’
‘Mom, she can hear you.’
‘See, you only care about her. Go, be with her.’
My mother rearranged the plates in the kitchen. She threw the old spice
mixture and made a new one as I left.
‘Get me to the guest-house. I want to leave,’ Ananya said, her face wet with
tears.
‘No,’ I said and wiped her tears. ‘No, you can’t.’
‘I can’t do this,’ she said. ‘I thought convincing my parents would be enough.
You said your mother is sweet. Sweet? If your mom is sweet, then Hitler is a
cuddly toy.’
‘Take a shower, Ananya,’ I said. ‘Let’s all eat dinner together.’
We sat down for dinner. My mother served me. Ananya took the food herself.
I chose the topic. ‘What are the important ceremonies for Minti’s wedding?’
‘I have to go every day,’ my mother said, chewing her food. ‘There is a puja,
then a sangeet. Of course, the important ones are the sagan and the marriage,
next Friday and Sunday. You’ll come, no?’
‘Sagan and marriage, of course. I’ll bring Ananya, too.’
My mother gave me a dirty look. She didn’t want to talk about it with Ananya
present.
‘Don’t avoid the topic, mom. I’ve brought Ananya here so you and the family
get to know her.’
‘I already know she can’t cook dinner,’ my mother said.
‘I’m sorry, aunty,’ Ananya said. I didn’t expect it but felt relieved that Ananya
apologised.
nora
(Nora)
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