Sambhar Idli for the Hungry Soul

 I have collected many tiny memories of my relatives and mine and strung them all together into one fictional story. This 15-minutes-read is set in the late 1980's small town in Tamil Nadu,India.The picture of my father and me is to add some character to the story.

The last gulp is the sweetest, thought 5-year-old Babbu as she drank the lemonade freshly squeezed by her ammamma. It was almost nightfall on a Sunday. Babbu had a rollicking weekend at her ammamma’s house playing games like lock-and-key and hide-and-seek with her cousins. It was then time for her to go back to her house which was in the next street. Mother called out to her elder sister who was reading a book sitting on a branch of the guava tree, an advantageous location for when she wanted to snack on her favourite fruit. Babbu, amma and akka bid farewell to everyone and started their 5 minutes’ walk to their home. There was an eerie calm in the atmosphere, the sky was darkening, all the shops in the street were shut and there was barely anyone on the road, not even the old ladies who chit chat in the verandahs of their home. Babbu wondered why Sunday evenings are so silent and dull.

     As they entered their home, amma instructed, “Mm! go pack your books for school tomorrow, check if you have all the stationery in place, polish your shoes, keep your socks ready……….”

Amma’s voice started to fade away as Babbu realised that she has not done her ‘word building homework’. She couldn’t even recollect in which corner she threw her bag after returning from school on Friday evening; because she had to run off to her ammamma’s house and play like there was no tomorrow. Two days of reckless play and now there was little time left to write three lofty columns of 3 letter words that end with i-t, u-t and u-n. She understood that the silence on the way home was just the calm before storm. Telling amma about this will only result in a thunderbolt striking her back and a heavy shower of scoldings. So, she pulled her panicky self together, picked up her bag and swiftly tip toed to her room, lest anyone hears the loud pounding of her heart.

   The notebook was open, the pencil was sharpened, and she started writing – b-i-t bit, f-i-t fit, h-i-t hit. “Not bad”, she thought to herself, “I am able to write fast in neat handwriting, I might actually pull this off in no time”! 

     Any mother worth her salt knows that a quiet house means the child is upto something she should’nt be doing; amma walked right into the room (s-h-i-t shit!). As expected, the scoldings started for leaving things to the last minute and mainly not communicating clearly what the homework was. Babbu knew she messed up, very apparently, but amma’s strong reminder of it didn’t help. More than our mess ups, it is our loved one’s reaction to our mess up that makes or breaks us. Babbu’s attention shifted from k-i-t kit to wondering what amma is going to say next, “ will she say why can’t I be more like akka who finishes work on time? Is she going to ask whether my cousins finished their work? Will she say how I’ll never change unless I get punished by my teacher? Oh God, nana has come home, is he going scold me too?”

  It was raining outside; nana had got wet. He immediately changed into his kaili (lungi) and sat bare-chested on the sofa to read a magazine. Babbu’s writing was slowing down, and her heart was racing in top gear. She felt vomitish during dinner and left the table after eating just half a dosa. She sat down to write again wishing she had not wasted precious time on dinner. The weather was chilly because of the rain and her fingers were jittery. She had noticed how nana heard amma scolding her but he never spoke a word about it nor made any eye contact with her. She was thankful that he did not join amma in reprimanding her, but the risk of that happening was quite high. “Focus on the word building, stupid!” , she said to herself and started writing.

  The little girl’s attempt to write fast only resulted in crooked letters which she wasn’t happy about. “ I want to write neatly, word building is fun, I want my teacher to praise me but I don’t know why I don’t feel like doing my homework.” The i-t column was over, Babbu felt a little victorious and pepped up to finish the rest. B-u-t but, c-u-t cut and there was a power cut. The house was dark, amma handed her a torch light and went to clear the kitchen. Babbu flashed the light across the room and saw akka sleeping peacefully, she felt like crying but buckled up to finish off the work while simultaneously paying attention to the conversation her parents were having, she wanted to know whether amma would complain about her to nana. The power was back but amma switched off most lights and went off to bed.

It was just nana and Babbu awake at night. The u-n word column was yet to be written, but she wanted to spend some alone time with nana. She closed her book and ran to nana to claim her rightful seat on his lap. As she hugged him her cold cheeks found solace in the warmth of his chest. Nana wrapped his arms around his little girl and planted a kiss on her forehead. Babbu usually complains that his moustache pokes her when he kisses, but at that moment, she liked it. She knew that she ought to have done her chores on time, she also understood that amma’s chiding was justified; but she did what she did and wanted someone to love her in spite of that. Both of them were quiet, nana’s silence felt more like patience, Babbu closed her eyes savouring his cozy embrace. When she sensed nana was about to get up she pretended to have fallen asleep just so that he would carry her to the bed, allowing her a few more moments to be in his assuring hold. Nana carefully placed her head on his strong shoulders, carried her to the bed and safely tucked her in. She liked how he was careful as to not make any sound to disturb her even though the heavy rain outside was almost a racket. The thought of incomplete homework and the impending punishment came up, “ God, let Dolly miss be absent tomorrow, please God, please”! She said a quick prayer and went off to sleep.

Babbu did not want to open her eyes to a Monday morning, she lay on the bed for a few more minutes, it was still raining. Surprisingly, the usual hustle-bustle on weekday mornings was missing. Babbu got off the bed and went out, akka was sitting with her story book, amma was in the pooja room, nana came out of the kitchen looking crisp in a white veshti. The news announcement in the radio said’ “all schools and offices shall remain closed for the day on account of heavy rains”. Babbu was delighted beyond measure, she was able to breathe better.

    “ Babbu, chellababbu! Come, I am making breakfast for you today”, said nana in his usual cheerful manner. He diced the fluffy idlis into bite sized pieces and put it in a big bowl, added a few dollops of golden ghee and poured the piping hot sambhar on top. The fleshy lumps of red tomato and the lush green coriander leaves were a good contrast to the rich yellow sambhar. The visual treat was sufficiently soothing , but nana wouldn’t leave it there. He put her on his lap and fed her. With each bite she felt nourished physically, and emotionally. After breakfast, she brought her notebook to show it to nana, she liked that he was home and wanted his attention. Nana helped her finish the rest of the word building.

 Babbu became her chirpy self again; nana looked into her eyes and cherished the happiness it exuded. He was glad that he could help his daughter out of her predicament, seeing her tense face the previous night reminded him of his own school days when Sunday’s setting sun would give rise to the Monday blues. He would cry at bedtime, dread opening his eyes in the morning; as he walked from his home to the bus stop, he would pray hard,” God, please let the bus tyre get punctured and break down. Please God, please”!