and Amma rushes in after her. She clatters around in a frenzy for a few moments, then “Yes?” she whispers, “yes?”
“Amma?”
“Yes?”
“Amma, yes what Amma?”
Amma rolls her eyes as she opens the valve on the gas canister under the bench and lights the one-ring hob.
“What do you mean with your ‘Amma yes what Amma?’” she hisses, “what did he say!?”
“Nothing.” Jodhi cuts a corner from the sachet, then pours the milk into a vessel as her mother looks on ominously.
“What do you mean, ‘Nothing’? You tell me now everything he said!”
“But Amma—”
“No but-butting, speak Daughter!”
Jodhi leans back against the wall and wraps her arms around her ribs, shrugging.
“He said ‘Goat’, ‘Let me carry it’, ‘It didn’t explode’ and ‘Wash this dirty thing’.”
Amma’s eyes goggle in her head.
“What are you talking about, you stupid girl!”
“Amma, this is what he said.”
“Nothing else?”
“He asked for my email address.”
Amma stirs the tea over the gas ring with triumphant vigour: “There,” she crows, “I knew it, he’s mad about you!” But on a whim she stops stirring and points a
finger at Jodhi accusingly: “You don’t have an email address do you?”
“No Amma, of course not.”
Amma nods and goes back to her stirring, then stops mid-stir and jabs another finger at Jodhi: “Why not? What is the matter with you, how can you expect to impress a boy like that if you
don’t even have an email address? The boy can build computer-supers before breakfast!”
“But Amma, it was you and Appa who wouldn’t let me have an email address because of all the dirty doings in the internet caf és.”
“How can you expect to bag a boy like Mohan if you don’t have an email address, you silly girl?” Amma accuses her, wide-eyed. “You get hold of an email address
immediately! How much do they cost? Where do they sell them?”
In the living area Mr P, after a significant glance from his wife, is about to come to an important matter. He clears his throat tactfully and gives his moustache a tweak or two:
“So you see,” he says, “so you see, we have come to the time when certain issues must be talked about.”
Oh no
, Swami thinks, as he nods sagely.
“What I mean to get at is that, as you know, the normal thing to do, in these circumstances, at this stage, before any firm ideas occur as to whether the two young people will, will,
will…”
Everyone hangs on his words, two gaggles of family members open-mouthed with interest at this meeting point of marriage and money.
“…come to an arrangement,” Mr P continues, “as I’m sure you understand, is this business of the dowry situation. Dowry situation must be under
discussion.”
Oh God
, Appa thinks.
Amma, who has come back in to make some space for the tea, wobbles her head.
There is the noise of car doors being slammed outside, directly in front of the bungalow.
“So we were wondering if you are wanting to give us best indication,” Mr P suggests, “about your, ah, ah, ah-hm, your, hm-hm, your, that is… position.”
Dear God…
There is a knock at the front door; Kamala gets up from the floor and answers it. Everyone gets a brief glimpse of two very large gentlemen on the doorstep before Kamala steps out, easing the
door closed behind her. Swami looks across at Mr P, rather miserably.
“Dowry,” he says, “dowry,” as everyone waits for more, “Thousand—”
“What what?”
“—Fifty-nine!” he manages to blurt out in a rush.
Mr P is calling for
The Sacred Couplets
with some enthusiasm once again, but here is Kamala, stepping back inside, tugging at Swami’s arm and whispering that he should go
outside.
“Who is it?” Amma asks.
“Two gentlemen,” Kamala says, “very urgent business.”
“Most sorry,” Swami says, struggling to his feet.
“He will go and then come,” Amma says.
“Yes, please go and then come,” Mr P agrees.
Everyone
“Amma?”
“Yes?”
“Amma, yes what Amma?”
Amma rolls her eyes as she opens the valve on the gas canister under the bench and lights the one-ring hob.
“What do you mean with your ‘Amma yes what Amma?’” she hisses, “what did he say!?”
“Nothing.” Jodhi cuts a corner from the sachet, then pours the milk into a vessel as her mother looks on ominously.
“What do you mean, ‘Nothing’? You tell me now everything he said!”
“But Amma—”
“No but-butting, speak Daughter!”
Jodhi leans back against the wall and wraps her arms around her ribs, shrugging.
“He said ‘Goat’, ‘Let me carry it’, ‘It didn’t explode’ and ‘Wash this dirty thing’.”
Amma’s eyes goggle in her head.
“What are you talking about, you stupid girl!”
“Amma, this is what he said.”
“Nothing else?”
“He asked for my email address.”
Amma stirs the tea over the gas ring with triumphant vigour: “There,” she crows, “I knew it, he’s mad about you!” But on a whim she stops stirring and points a
finger at Jodhi accusingly: “You don’t have an email address do you?”
“No Amma, of course not.”
Amma nods and goes back to her stirring, then stops mid-stir and jabs another finger at Jodhi: “Why not? What is the matter with you, how can you expect to impress a boy like that if you
don’t even have an email address? The boy can build computer-supers before breakfast!”
“But Amma, it was you and Appa who wouldn’t let me have an email address because of all the dirty doings in the internet caf és.”
“How can you expect to bag a boy like Mohan if you don’t have an email address, you silly girl?” Amma accuses her, wide-eyed. “You get hold of an email address
immediately! How much do they cost? Where do they sell them?”
In the living area Mr P, after a significant glance from his wife, is about to come to an important matter. He clears his throat tactfully and gives his moustache a tweak or two:
“So you see,” he says, “so you see, we have come to the time when certain issues must be talked about.”
Oh no
, Swami thinks, as he nods sagely.
“What I mean to get at is that, as you know, the normal thing to do, in these circumstances, at this stage, before any firm ideas occur as to whether the two young people will, will,
will…”
Everyone hangs on his words, two gaggles of family members open-mouthed with interest at this meeting point of marriage and money.
“…come to an arrangement,” Mr P continues, “as I’m sure you understand, is this business of the dowry situation. Dowry situation must be under
discussion.”
Oh God
, Appa thinks.
Amma, who has come back in to make some space for the tea, wobbles her head.
There is the noise of car doors being slammed outside, directly in front of the bungalow.
“So we were wondering if you are wanting to give us best indication,” Mr P suggests, “about your, ah, ah, ah-hm, your, hm-hm, your, that is… position.”
Dear God…
There is a knock at the front door; Kamala gets up from the floor and answers it. Everyone gets a brief glimpse of two very large gentlemen on the doorstep before Kamala steps out, easing the
door closed behind her. Swami looks across at Mr P, rather miserably.
“Dowry,” he says, “dowry,” as everyone waits for more, “Thousand—”
“What what?”
“—Fifty-nine!” he manages to blurt out in a rush.
Mr P is calling for
The Sacred Couplets
with some enthusiasm once again, but here is Kamala, stepping back inside, tugging at Swami’s arm and whispering that he should go
outside.
“Who is it?” Amma asks.
“Two gentlemen,” Kamala says, “very urgent business.”
“Most sorry,” Swami says, struggling to his feet.
“He will go and then come,” Amma says.
“Yes, please go and then come,” Mr P agrees.
Everyone
Similar Books
