Family Matters
Nimi Kurian
28 May 2008, 07:19The shadows lengthened. The tennis players had long since left the courts. The North Veranda darkened as the bearers drew the curtains. The soft lamps over the card tables came on. At the seven o’clock gong the last of the children left the shuttle court.
A silence descended on the Club. The silence was short-lived. Soon the drinkers, the card players, the billiard enthusiasts, the planters and the social climbers would begin to trickle in.
Sam took up his position behind the bar. He was the favoured barman. He knew everyone, everyone’s favourite drink and was as snobbish as the most snobbish member. He could identify a social climber, a new rich member…just as soon as he could identify a true “gentleman” or “lady”. He didn’t like it so much these days, when the women clamoured up onto the bar stools and ordered their own drinks. Not that he would not serve them. He did, but with a shake of his head and a raised eyebrow. The more sensitive of them never repeated their request for a drink.
Yacob was the first in. It was his cards night. Sam hated Yacob, not because he was not a gentleman but he was new to town and he did not respect the ways of the town. “Just ten years!” He had money, was born to money in fact. But he didn’t wear his money well. Sam hated the way he talked down to the “true gentlemen” of the club.
Many is the time he muttered to himself, “If I was the President I would have him out by his ear!”
The thing was nobody liked Yacob. Yacob and his superior ways, his claim to royal lineage and his arrogance. And everyone had a field day when Yacob’s nephew married Abraham’s daughter. The club laughed long and hard. Abraham was not only new to town, he was new rich and his family background was best left unsaid. Yacob’s dignity took a beating and he did not appear in the club for many a day. Of course the bridge players were happy when he didn’t turn up for it was rumoured that he cheated at cards, though no one had ever caught him at it.
Slowly the regulars trickled in. Sam was busy. He had his favourites on the bar stools so that way he didn’t have to face the ones he disliked unless they came up for refreshers. He served the men in the billiards room through the cubbyhole behind the bar. He recognised every arm that was stretched out and replenished the glass.
The bridge tables were filling up and some of them had begun their game. They played in silence. The rummy table was also filling up. This was a fun table with a lot of loud jokes and laughter much to the irritation of the silent bridge players. Their peered over their spectacles disapprovingly, but the rummy players were not too concerned. Occasionally they whispered to each other, “Yacob is glaring!” And then they giggled like giddy-headed girls.
Today the rummy players were particularly interested in the bridge players because Yacob and Abraham were not only playing at the same table but because they were partnering each other. Indeed a rare phenomenon. The other two at the table were the dentist, Dr. Punj – an amicable retired army doctor and the a tea broker George, whose trousers were held up with a pair of braces giving him a look of a runaway schoolboy.
Everything was going on as usual when suddenly there was a loud swearing and Yacob leaned across and slapped Abraham. Abraham threw down his hand and stood up flushed. Dr. Punj looked up from his cards, puzzled. George stood up, his thumbs running the length of his braces. The whole North Veranda became silent. The sound of the slap resounded through the room.
“How dare you behave in this indecent manner Yacob?” said Mr. Batli, the first to recover.
“If my husband was still the President he would have you expelled for this outrageous behaviour!” exclaimed Mrs. Verghese, who couldn’t resist putting Yacob down.
Everyone expressed shock and disgust at Yacob’s behaviour. Abraham had by now recovered and made as dignified an exit as was possible after six large whiskies. Dr. Punj and George too decided that they could not continue with the game and they left.
“It’s a sad day indeed when we allow such people to become members!” said Sam. “If Thambi Dorai was President we could have had an immediate outcome. Now look, they will call for an emergency meeting to discuss what they should do!”
True to Sam’s prediction the next day the notice was up that an emergency general body meeting was called. Unlike the attendance for the usual GB meeting, this one drew a big crowd.
The hall was filled up in no time. More chairs were dragged in; stragglers from the bar conveniently placed themselves at the door so that they could replenish their glasses without much trouble.
The President called the meeting to order. He said: It has been brought to my notice that on Monday, the 7th of June, there was a disruption in the evening hours. It was mentioned that there was trouble at the bridge table occupied by Yacob, George, Dr. Punj and Abraham. I have been since informed that the cause of the disruption was that Abraham had played a card that he should not have and Yacob an avid bridge player realised this and was incensed and reached across and slapped Abraham. Is this what happened on that day gentlemen?”
Dr. Punj and George could only nod. They were so embarrassed to be a part of this fracas. The President asked Yacob if he had anything to say in his defence. Yacob gave a very superior nod of his head and waved his hand as if to say, “Do what you want, I care a shit!”
The President called Abraham and asked him what charges he wanted to press. Everyone waited with bated breath. This was Abraham chance to get back at Yacob for all his aristocratic ways, for all the times he had been belittled, for all the snubs he had had to endure.
Abraham stood up. He mumbled, he fumbled, he whispered. Even over the hushed silence he could not be heard.
“Speak up, sir,” said the President. “We cannot hear you.”
“I have no charges. This is purely a family matter!”
Yacob stood up incensed. “Family matter? Family matter? What family could that be? You and I are hardly family!” he spluttered.
Abraham smiled.
Very subtle.You write very well
— sridhar · May 28, 17:06 · #