It Runs In The Family

I had come home with scraped knee, a torn skirt and dirt all over me – sufficient evidence that I had been indulging in some nefarious activity.

My mother firmly believed that ‘well-behaved girls’ were sedate quiet creatures who played indoors with dolls or read books.

After the mandatory exasperated glances, the not-too-gentle anointing of wounds, came the banishment to my room.

I was in a mutinous mood and stayed in my room. Govind Mama, her elder brother, was visiting us. He was fond of me and answered all my ‘why’ questions - he was a great favourite with me.

He peered into my room.

“Not hungry, child? Dinner’s ready.”

“It’s Ma, she just doesn’t understand!”

“What darling?”

“What it is to want to run and play like the boys, I am not the frilly-skirted house-house playing type.”

He patted me on the shoulder and grinned. “Will you come down if I tell you a story that shows she does understand? That she wants you not to conform completely, but at least learn some part of the woman’s role?”

He went on, “You think your mother is the perfect house-wife, you despise her for that, maybe. But she too had an inner rebellious child, Jaya, no resemblance to the sedate Vijayalalita you know. She was born after five boys and quite pampered, getting away with sheer murder.” Here he chuckled.

“Sheer murder.”

He sat beside me, and began:

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Jaya had one leg over the wall when she paused, her skirt was hitched halfway up her thighs and all she needed was to get that other plump limb over, in her usual deft way, and they’d be home. Or on the way, beyond the reach of the red-faced gardener who was charging down the path.

Jaya perched on the wall as though it was natural to do so, the pastime of royalty to sit on orchard walls and ponder deeply on the mysteries of the universe.

She allowed the irate pursuer to reach a position below her, able to reach up and dislodge her if he chose. It seemed however, that her youth, sex and confidence prevented him from making such a move.

The old man hitched up his lower garments and passed one uncertain hand across a brow beaded with large globules of sweat.

Namaskara, ajjaiah. Chanageiddira?

Greetings Grandfather, how are you?

The traditional greeting to an elder person, inquiring after his well being, was intoned in a childish fluting voice; Jaya’s speaking voice was noted for sweetness and clarity.

Wrath gave way to bewilderment.

Na channageiddini, mari. Tavu?

I am fine, child and you?

The delicate question of the intruder’s identity was posed without offense, as a countering wish for the other’s health.

Jaya, ignored the request for her name, displaying a sweet smile.

She indicated the fruit she had discarded in her haste to ascend the wall; she made an imperious gesture to have them handed up.

The gardener obeyed her without question, but ventured, “Are you aware that this orchard belong to ChikkaNarasimha Gowda?”

“He is like my grandfather.”

Jaya never told outright lies, merely making misleading statements, if others misconstrued – it was not her fault. She did regard all old men as she did her grandfather, with respect, courtesy and affection.

A sterner note sounded in voice of her opponent,” You do know that the Gowda family has only grandsons, not one grand-daughter?”

A dimple enhanced the smile, it came and went at random, but was devastating when it appeared.

“It would be natural then to long for a grand-daughter, no? I did say ‘like my grand-father’.”

She then made an exasperated pssshing sound, “I can’t stop and chatter all day, are you going to hand me all those mangoes or not?”

Little girls can work wonders that big boys cannot, the gardener not only gave her the spoils she had discarded, he tied up eight or nine more in the cloth on this shoulder and handed those over too, having plucked them by using the crook in his hand to bend the over-laden boughs high above their heads.

He gave her a friendly smile and a wave before turning back to the orchard.

Jaya waved back at him enthusiasm.

“Hsssh, Govindanna!”

Her brother ran up from the hedge behind which he had hidden at the outset - sure of being found and thrashed but hoping that people would believe that a small girl would go orchard raiding on her own.

It hadn’t been cowardice, more self-preservation; they would forgive her alone, not if she was accompanied by four brothers. He felt he deserved some praise at least, for not running all the way home like the other three.

“Jaya, what were you up to? We could all have been caught by your delaying tactics!”

He gave her a ladder of sorts with his shoulder, out-thrust hip and half-bent knee.

Jaya descended with the air of a princess being handed down from her palanquin by her major-domo, but as soon as her bare feet touched the ground she was her normal self - half-imp half-angel - again.

Govind decided she deserved some castigation, and went on, “Barefoot too, like a ragamuffin, and sitting there on the wall, with your skirt halfway up your legs, like any village urchin.”

“Village urchins have fun. If Amma would let me wear shorts underneath, my skirts were not even high enough to show them! And that’s why I stopped. I did not want be undignified or seem to be a thief.”

“To take another’s mangoes is actually thieving, I suppose …” murmured the already guilt-stricken Govind.

“Nonsense, If we didn’t, the monkeys and birds would, and we finish the fruit, not drop it half-eaten and gorge on the next one. Maybe they’d rot if it rained this week, then whom have we harmed? Also, we’re not selling them, thieves steal and sell things.”

Govind was unable to point out the flaws in that logic! He just held her hand and tugged her homeward.

“Instead of which, we all have an abundance of mangoes to feast on! See, there are the raw ones, and half-ripe ones and even this lovely pink-golden one - which is sure to be nearly ripe!”

They took the long way back to the house, entering by the torn strands of the backyard fence, via the stables. A shrill whistle alerted the head groom’s middle son to hide their loot. A quick wash at the water trough took care of travel stains, and two almost neat children stole into the kitchen.

They were just in time for the evening serving of snacks. Called Kayi-tuttu it was nothing elaborate, just the leftover rice and gravy mixed into a homogenous lump and dollops doled out to outstretched palms.

Rarely, if someone was invited for tea, some formal snacks might be prepared, but these were for the visitor only, the children got only the burned bits or odd shaped pieces. Not, that it mattered, there was plenty to cadge if one was hungry – if the servants were in a good mood.

Nanji, Vishwa and Chandi milled around the two 'heroes', who hadn't run away. The inexplicable behaviour and the brave facing up to adult fury might be thought foolhardy, but the intrepidity could not but be admired. They all piped up together, their queries intermingling and confusing Jaya and Govind.

"What happened? Why did you two not follow us? We looked back for you, but only after reaching the next road. We waited for ages at the turning too; you never came.

"Did the mali

gardening caretaker

give you a tongue-lashing?"

"Did you get striped

caned

, Anna

brother

?"

Govind held up his hand to halt the barrage.

"Well, as the eldest I had to see chikki

little one

safely over the wall ... but when almost off, madam here, thought it was not seemly to show the gardener her plump white legs ..."

The boys all hooted loudly at this, Jaya was always plaguing their mother to let her wear shorts, like them.

Jaya knew why they were ridiculing the idea and took a lofty tone, "It's different to show legs and have them 'seen' in an undignified manner."

"... well, anyway, having decided dignity was of supreme importance she then took over the entire interaction and convinced the mali that she was regarded as the owner's grand-daughter and by the end of it, he even gave us some more mangoes to carry away."

Jaya and he then proceeded to enact the entire episode, to bug-eyed attention.

At the end, an uproar arose, if one thought it hilarious to have turned tables thus, another was aghast at the lies that had tripped off her tongue, and all were apprehensive about what would happen if the owner denied ever having set eyes on Jaya, forget regarding her as his grandchild.

At that moment the clip-clop of a team of horses along the side road sounded and they all scurried to convenient chinks in the wall to see who was approaching their house.

It was a magnificent black carriage, the close-bodied kind used by the 'gentry'.

"Who do you think it is?"

"Some one rich, for sure"

Here Jaya chirped in, "It's Ajjaiah!"

"The Mali!" she exclaimed as they all turned to her. "I saw him at the window of the carriage."

"Oh, Lord, he's coming to complain for sure!"

"Yeah, he'll distribute our just retribution."

"Not to mention the extra punishment Father will hand out, the pained reproaches, the 'where-did-I-fail-you lectures, the it-pains-me-to-take-it-away cancellation of treats. Oh, God! Jaya, you've landed us in a fine mess!"

Jaya tossed her head, "Huh, it's worth the fun, hollow-legged cowards!"

They walked into the house with lagging steps, all except for Jaya who skipped along as usual, nothing ever fazed her.

The summons might come immediately, it might come after the visitor left, but it would come for sure.

Thayamma, their maid of all work, came running into the large back-hall.

"What are you all doing here, up to more mischief?"

It had been a random thrust, a query to establish dominance and power, always a tussle between the children and she. But the stricken faces turned to her gave her voice some vindictive pleasure, "Go to the front hall immediately, your father wants you."

She smacked two of the boys at random as they passed, that was her privilege, just as they felt it fair game to put out their tongues and make funny faces at her when she was praying, or attending to guests, and therefore unable to react.

Their father was ensconced in the 'planter's chair', the one with the adjustable side arms and curved back. His stance was anything but relaxed; they always wondered why he sat as stiff and straight as a stone idol in a chair made for lolling around.

Father was straight all through, from the razor sharp parting in his slicked down hair to the crease in his long linen shirts, to the neat parallel pleats in his dhoti

Long length of cloth that was wound and draped as a lower garment.

His manners and morals were also rigid, always honest, always fair. They feared and respected him in equal measure; but any affectionate display was restricted to receipt of rare pats or smiles of approval.

Except Jaya, Jaya was the only one who had the courage to go up to him and hold out her arms to be lifted onto his lap, to lean against his chair and twitter her daily doings. The boys were all tongue-tied in his presence, except in response to simple questions that could be answered "Yes" or "No".

They filed in, lining up according to age and seniority, Govind first, Jaya last. They were estimating how long the harangue would take and how humiliating it was going to be.

"Children, come here."

They shuffled forward two paces.

"Say hello to a kind friend of mine."

It was Jaya's acquaintance all right; three pairs of eyebrows had been raised in question and a small nod of acknowledgment received from the guilty ones.

But what is he doing sitting on the sofa? Father doesn't make malis stand outside the house or anything, but they would never sit down in his presence.

"Sir, these are five of my children, the sixth is upstairs, studying for his exams."

"What are your names children?"

"Govind"

"Nanjunda."

"Vishwanath."

"Chandrakant."

"Jaya"

The names had been shot out with military precision, in the same tone, pitch and interval."

Jaya sidled up to the old gentleman,” What’s your name Ajjaiah?"

The other children were dismayed at her ‘forward’ attitude.

But, the old gentleman was roaring with laughter and bending down to swing Jaya onto his lap. Even their father was smiling, a smile that reached the corners of his eyes and crinkled them up as though drawstrings had been pulled.

"Gundappagaru, this girl of yours is worth a dozen boys."

He snorted at some unshared joke, made this choked hrrggh-hrggh-hrgggh sound: a paroxysm of mirth, "My name is ChikkaNarasimha Gowda and I am pleased to renew the acquaintance of my favourite grandchild."

Jaya's pink lips parted to form a perfect round of astonishment.

One hand stroked her mop of curls as he went on, "I wouldn't want her tired out from walking to my orchard every day, so I have brought over a basket of mangoes for her, a dozen of every variety we grow."

It seemed he and father knew each other well, even if they had not formally visited each other. He had often wanted to come and pay his regards to his neghbour.

Nods and smiles of agreement from Father encouraged Jaya; she was soon chattering away to her adopted grandfather.

Snacks brought in by Thayamma signaled the end of the visit. Jaya wriggled off the visitor's knee, throwing him a dimpled smile to soften the desertion.

The kitchen and those overdone or underdone fried goodies beckoned.

"Goodbye, little one. I hope to see you, when your father returns my visit."

They all scampered out of the room and in the safe confines of the kitchen, munching on the scraps, the general consensus was that girls had the unfair advantage of being 'cute' and appealing.

"She could get away with murder, I tell you!"

Govind hushed Vishwa, "Please, don't put ideas in her head, she's incorrigible as it is. I swear we'll leave her behind on our next play"

Jaya was unmoved, she knew herself to be the much petted younger sister of her brothers and quite her father's darling.

"Huh, if you leave me behind Mother will only ask you all why Jaya was crying all day and where you all were. Take me with you and no one knows anything!"

She had them in a cleft stick, as usual.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I had mellowed during the tale-telling, I had promised Mama and anyway, I was hungry.

I slipped my hand into his, “Let’s go down to dinner, Mama.”



Word count: 2496

Written for

FORUM

Roots & Wings Contest  (E) Can you capture the essence of an ancestor in one story? CLOSED #1962161 by GeminiGem🐾

Prompt one: Choose an ordinary, unremarkable ancestor and share one interesting or special moment in their life.