Ghachar Ghochar by Vivek Shanbhag

Author:Vivek Shanbhag
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2016-12-22T15:52:43+00:00

SIX

Now, what can I say of myself that is only about me and not tied up with the others? Wherever I try to start, I quickly run into one of three women—Amma, Malati, or Anita—each more fearsome than the other. I sometimes wonder if their every moment is spent sharpening their tongues, silently accumulating resentments for later use. And then, when they’re in the mood, they’ll whip up a storm that gives me the shivers even to think about.

It might start when I finish my bath in the morning and call out casually, “What’s for breakfast, Amma?”

Amma says: “I’ve made avarekaalu upma because you like it.”

It seems an innocuous enough statement. An outsider may not be able to see its explosive power. But as someone who lives in this house, I know just how grave the consequences can be. I start hurrying to leave the house before it erupts. I jump into my clothes, scramble for my bag. And right then Anita might say to me, just loud enough for the others to hear: “I hope the prince will eat in comfort. So what if the rest of us starve.” The reason: she can’t stand avarekaalu, to the point where she throws up every time she smells the beans. It’s true I like them, but I don’t need to have them. But ever since Amma learned that Anita despises avarekaalu, she buys them every time she spots them in the vegetable market. She can do this because she controls the kitchen. There’s a daughter-in-law, there’s a daughter who’s left her husband and set up camp here, yet Amma clings to the kitchen. It’s not her fault—it’s all she knows. In any case, Anita doesn’t like to cook. It’s not that she can’t; she doesn’t want to. Then there’s Malati, about whom Anita often says, “If she wasn’t like this, the situation in our house would have been so much better.” I wouldn’t dare agree even in private, but I know in my heart that she’s right.

Even if Anita’s jibe about princes and so on is made to me, it is directed at Amma. Amma flares up every time Anita speaks disrespectfully to me, or makes barbed remarks about my sloth or my tendency to procrastinate or brings up the fact that my rightfully earned personal income is precisely zero. It’s also Anita’s often-repeated allegation that this last fact was not properly revealed to her before our marriage.

These three address each other indirectly—that is the prelude, the shot fired in the air to challenge an adversary to battle. The idea is to inquire if the enemy is prepared and willing to fight. If there’s enthusiasm on the other side, a reply is heard. That, too, is aimed at no one in particular.

“Oh, since this house is crawling with cooks, each member of the family can be served a different dish,” says Amma. How can Anita stay silent? She drags her sister-in-law into the ring: “The house has turned into a shelter. This is what happens when all sorts are taken in.

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