Short Story “Unsuspecting Accomplices” an excerpt

Short Story “Unsuspecting Accomplices” an excerpt 

        It was Ammamma who demonstrated her worldly commonsense. She bundled all her jewellery into several bags and pouches, ordered for a horse carriage and asked Tathayya to accompany her to the leading jewellery store. There she spent the day having her jewellery appraised and valued. The thick waist belt with the clasp of Sri Ramachandra, Sita and Lakshman in beaten gold encrusted with rubies, the hair ornaments to decorate her long plait, thick bangles and armlets, long strands of gold chains held with gold pendants, her sthreedhanam gifted by her father and father in law at the time of her marriage twenty five years ago, all this Ammamma was ready to liquidate to build her new home. Fortunately they did not have to part with everything just the heavy gold and the new home came up overlooking the Bengal Sea.

        Tathayya and Ammamma moved to their new house on retirement. Tathayya assembled his massive library in a front room which had curved glass windows through which fierce gusts of breeze from the sea scattered papers if not held down by a paperweight and long beams of sunlight traced patterns on the ruby red flooring. The land was originally a mango and coconut orchard and the backyard was nearly an acre of swaying palms, sturdy mango, guava, lime and banana. There were separate store rooms for coconut and mango and a small alcove off the kitchen where ceramic vats three feet tall were filled with pickles, condiments, ghee and oil. The mango room was layered with hay and the hand plucked green fruit would be laid out in rows over the hay and covered by another layer to allow the fruit to ripen. Every morning during the mango season, Ammamma would visit the mango room followed by a maid with a wicker basket. She would draw up a stool and seated, remove each layer of hay carefully and pick out the ripened fruit in luscious yellows. The smell in the mango room was intoxicating and the fragrance of cloying sweetness would linger for months. Ammamma would have the ripened mangos washed carefully, the sap squeezed out to avoid mouth blisters. The pickle room was a sacred space, air tight, dim and moisture free. Grubby hands, running noses, unwashed bodies were forbidden as also women with menstrual flow. It was not superstition but just practical hygiene and techniques of preservation that stipulated the room temperature and avoidance of any possibility of overheating the room.

       Ammamma’s life abounded with rites and disciplines in housekeeping, social niceties, and etiquette. She had strict standards regarding the preparation of ghee, roasting of coffee beans for a making rich aromatic filter, slow roasting of cashew nuts, plucking flowers for puja, preparation of muruku or the crafting of jewellery. Some were daily routines like coffee, some weekly like tea time snacks and some during celebrations. No task was hurried or postponed, and days of planning would go in making sure the biscuit tins were filled with laddus, or ariselu or jeedipappu. Ammamma occupied a niche as the undisputed high priest in her social circle and a connoisseur of food.      

      Her hospitality and social interactions too were legendry. Home visits were scheduled depending on the festival calendar, weddings, condolences, cradle ceremonies etc. Frivolous jaunts were frowned upon and only under special circumstances such as the arrival of a new bride or an elderly relative for whom there was affection would a pure social visit take place. These visits followed a certain protocol and formality, the question of arriving unannounced was ruled out as sufficient notice had to be given to the host to prepare for the visit. Ammamma would send a message to the host whether the date and time were suitable, no one ill, no unwelcome house guests and no household upheavals like absconding cooks or recalcitrant servants. The messages were exchanged through a runner or cycle boy who would bring back the reply. Once the appointment was made, she would order for transportation, a jatka or horse carriage to transport the calling party which included all the women folk and children in the household. Ammamma was fastidious and would not clamber into any unknown vehicle or driver. She carried her own carpet and had it spread over the hay that lined the base of the carriage. Ammamma's visiting hours were from three to six in the evening, after her afternoon nap and before the evening Puja routine. Depending on the family to be visited she would decide to have her coffee before leaving or forsake it for refreshments that the host would provide. All visits were restricted to an hour and with travel time of nearly ninety minutes it fitted in nicely with her routine.
      Hospitality at these visits adhered to a strict protocol. After fifteen minutes of conversation, mostly on health issues, treatments, cures for chronic conditions, births and demises the host would serve a sweet and a savoury pre plated and handed out by the hostess and women of the household. If the hostess had grown up daughters or daughters in law she sat back and allowed them to serve. Both the treats would have been prepared that very day while the mixture or muruku would have come out of a large brass container in the store room where snacks were stocked for events such as this. For some time there would only be the quiet absorption of relishing the savoury first and then taking a bite of the rava laddu, or mysore pak. Ah.... conversation would restart with expressions of delight on the flavour, fragrance, lightness, softness and freshness of the delicacy. The hostess and ladies of the house would beam modestly while the cook would take in everything from behind the hall door and throw in her comments that drifted into the hall and reached whoever had an inner ear. After eating and clearance of the plates, the washing of hands, coffee would be served. Unless Ammamma was sure of the host’s reputation in coffee making, she would decline and also refuse other healthier alternatives like ragi malt, horlicks, ovaltine or plain milk. Children would be served only ovaltine. The drinks would be served in a set of steel tumbler and bowl; again silence as each cooled the contents deftly pouring the liquid between tumbler and bowl. Then careful not to allow the drink go cold, a small quantity would be left in the tumbler and drunk and so on till the beverage was finished. Children would be admonished not to spill a drop while matrons would sit around nonchalantly in relaxed elegance and with effortless ease of a flick of the wrist decant the contents without a pause in their conversation.       

       It was time to banish the children to an adjoining room. It was time for the serious business of the visit, the sordid marriage of a cousin, the philanderer of a husband or an impotent son in law, the sly ways of a new bride, the delinquencies of the college going nieces, the piece de resistance being the matchmaking. What did the children do? They made dolls and furniture from palm fronds, engaged themselves in whatever amusement the young host would have, sometimes a wound up toy, sometimes spin a top, or play hop scotch. Boredom was unknown, improvisations were many.                         

       Leave taking was an equally important ceremony and depending on the status of the visitor and the purse of the host the silver tray would appear laden with hand woven strings of jasmine, the buds ready to burst open, vermillion and turmeric powders in delicate hand beaten silver containers, moist tender beetle leaves, areca nuts, blouse pieces and huge coconuts brimming with water from the hosts own trees. For the children there would be a banana or a biscuit packet as a special treat, maybe a paper parcel of the tiffin treats. Laden with gifts and burdened with the news, the visitors bid goodbye and settle back in the jatka for a leisurely drive home as streetlights come on and cyclists rush past lanterns swinging in the gathering gloom.
      Ammamma would wait for a few days till the household had exhausted the excitement of the excursion and just when she sensed that the visit would turn into a distant memory, she would start talking casually about the visit. Ammamma would point out several unstated messages drawn from these pleasantries. She never made personal observations or comments about the hosts but she would draw attention to the etiquette and grace that was observed or lack of it during the visit. To Ammamma, ostentation and display of wealth was bad form, modesty, grace, quality of refreshments, the return gift ceremony all summed up the standing of the family. For example the size of laddu, small and many, meant hurly burly cooking while well sized golden orbs suggested patient attention to the preparation. Similarly was the ghee prepared at home or bought from the oil merchant? Well roasted coffee beans signified patience, gulping food meant greed, greeting visitors with a welcoming smile was graceful, handing dried beetle leaves showed carelessness. Many times she would reprimand Baby and her grandchildren for requesting drinking chocolate when ovaltine was offered. Ammamma would explain in great elaboration the intricate equation between a gracious host and an accommodative visitor colluding to make the visit a satisfactory experience and avoid at any cost embarrassment or awkwardness. Rude guests who requested for their personal taste and did not partake what was prepared by the host were insulting. Crass rude behaviour in Ammamma’s mind was an unpardonable offence along with raised voices, bad language, temper and hysteria. Ammamma had many more social niceties that were unbreachable. A person of refinement would never request for yogurt outside one's home. It was a sign of poor upbringing; you had to request for buttermilk which every middle class home prepared in large quantities. So a simple social visit would be transformed into an elaborate lesson on respect, etiquette, manners and good up bringing.                                  

      When Baby was a little girl, the daughter of a German missionary accompanied her father, who had wanted to discuss some concepts of Hindu philosophy with Tathayya. Tathayya took the Reverend into his library and asked Baby to entertain the girl. Baby was glad to show off her pretty trinkets which Elder sister had presented her on her last visit home. They sat on a soft woven mat and were soon engrossed in their fantasy game of elves and fairies when Ammamma passed by on the veranda, her long thick flaxen hair smoothly combed back and rolled into a bun. She wore a nine yard turquoise blue silk sari dressed like a dhoti and drawn between the legs, large ruby earrings, a sapphire nose pin, several bracelets of gold and rubies around her wrists, and long strands of fine gold and pearl chains around her neck. The missionary’s daughter was wonder struck.

      “Is she the Queen of India?” she asked Baby.

      “Oh no, that’s my mother,” said Baby without looking up from her dolls.

(concluded)

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