Silence Is Golden
Marisha Ida Fonseca
7 March 2009, 15:40“It looks very pretty but the top should be longer, otherwise everyone can see your panties when you sit. And you should wear long earrings, they suit your face. That ponytail looks a little casual; perhaps you could put a banana clip instead.”
The girl these remarks were addressed gave a final look at the smart, sophisticated image in the mirror and left the room. Mrs. Srivastav sighed. Young people never listened nowadays. She had watched Rakshpali grow up from a howling baby to a senior copywriter in a top advertising agency, but all the thanks she got for her advice was a cool, supercilious look. Terrible manners! Rekha had brought up her daughter very badly. The girl didn’t know what respect had to be given to the aunty next door. And instead of that pretty name Rakshpali, she wanted to be called Raksh! When you have been given a name by your parents, you stick to it and change it only when you get married. But Rakshpali didn’t even want to get married! At twenty-eight!
Rekha just spoilt her children. Her elder son Dilip had been allowed to choose a girl on his own, and he had chosen a Manipuri! When there were lots of nice girls from his own community to choose from! Mrs. Srivastav had found several for him, all of matching caste and family background. But that ungrateful boy had gone and married that woman with chinky eyes! And his mother, Rekha had been very calm about it and had given a full 24 carat gold set to the bride! At that moment, Rekha entered the room.
“Nandini, tea is ready. Come to the hall and have. Dilip brought some nice foreign biscuits when he went to America on that business trip.”
Mrs. Srivastav heaved herself out of her chair and waddled to the hall. “You’ve put new curtains in Rakshpali’s room, very nice colour but where did you buy them from? Binny’s Textiles? You can’t trust Binny’s. It would have been much better to buy them from Bombay Dyeing. Their quality is very good. You know those bedsheets I bought eight years ago, with the green and blue stripes? They are still in such good condition. And you’ve put new photos on the wall! Very nice, that picture of Dilip and his wife on that boat in New York. But what frames did you choose! The big one does not really match your colour scheme. It would have been better to get brown frames than green. Brown suits your house better.”
Rekha just smiled and poured out the tea and put the biscuits in a plate. Her neighbor of thirty- odd years both exasperated and amused her. Mrs. Srivastav was one of those helpful souls who always find cleverer and better ways to do anything, provided that it has already been done by others. Rekha had read about Murphy’s Law in the Reader’s Digest that month, and had created her own equivalent- the less anything concerned Mrs. Srivastav, the more advice would she give about it.
After advising Rekha on her sofa coverings, the best way to make poha, how to get a good bargain in vegetables and where to get her saree falls stitched, Mrs. Srivastav began to talk about herself.
“I am going to Jonita’s daughter’s wedding. You remember Jonita, who used to live on the ground floor? They shifted to Malad ten years ago. She has sent me an invitation for her eldest girl’s wedding. I’ve forgotten the name, some Kinelle or Kimelle, something like that. This is the first time I’m going to a Catholic wedding. I must see what it’s like. You know, my husband’s niece Prajakta will be there. Kinelle or Kimelle and she are in the same office. I have never seen Prajakta, they live in Lucknow and she was at boarding school and went to America for studies. She has just come back. She got married over there, but to an Indian boy thankfully. She is the only child. I wonder whether she is spoilt by America or does she still have her values? Do you remember Malini’s daughter who went to America, married this white fellow and divorced him in two years?”
At five thirty, Mrs. Srivastav was forced to leave the pleasures of airing her opinions to a willing listener, and Rekha’s headache lessened considerably.
The wedding was one of the strangest thing’s Mrs. Srivastav had seen. First of all, the couple walked all around the hall and everyone had to throw confetti on them. Then they cut that beautiful cake and kissed in public! No shame! This is what happens when parents don’t bring up their children properly. She would talk to Jonita about this, Jonita still had two younger children and it was not too late to reform them. Then, she had to go and stand in a line with all the other people in the room and they all held hands and marched round and round! Did all Catholics do these things at weddings or was it just Jonita? She had a PhD in physics; maybe it had affected her sanity.
Now that funny walk was over. And she could sit down at the table and have her snacks. The cake was quite good, but she could tell Jonita where to get better cake for next time. Kyani’s Bakery made the best plum cake. Now to look for Prajakta. There were several young women around. She rejected all the bridesmaids because they were obviously Catholics. She rejected those at the next four tables, they were obviously Jonita’s family, because she was sitting and talking to them. There was this girl sitting at the table behind her. Mrs. Srivastav turned around to get a good look at her. She was fair complexioned and wore a smart salwar kameez with a daringly large diamond cut in the back. Obviously married, because she was holding a one year old baby in her lap. This might be Prajakta. How could she make sure?
A young man sauntered up “Hey Pra, babes, wanna come dance”
“No, gotta look after the kid.” He strolled away.
Pra! Obviously a short form of Prajakta. But what a way of speaking! Kid! Couldn’t she say ‘baby?’ And did she want to dance? A mother? What a husband that girl had chosen! Dancing with other women! Almost as bad as that American whom Malini’s daughter had married.
She turned her chair around and tapped the young woman on her shoulder.
“Prajakta beti! It’s very nice to see you! I’m your Nandini chachi. This must be your daughter Preeti. How you’ve grown! You were just a little girl with two pigtails when I saw you last. America has changed you a lot. You’ve got a nice fair complexion now, because there’s no sun over there. It’s a good thing, because your mother and father were both dark so you might have been too. But your hair is quite terrible. When you do this rebonding and straightening, your hair becomes very dry and just like grass. You shouldn’t have done it, there is good hair in your family. Your mother’s hair reaches her waist and she has only a few grey hairs. You are so thin! I can see your backbone from behind. Why does your kameez have such a big cut in the back? Your mother would hang her head in shame if she saw you. But I’m glad you at least wear salwar kameez. I hope you still have your values. When other girls go to America, they lose their values. They go and get divorced. But I am glad you have found such a nice boy and you have such a lovely baby. Is he from our community?”
“Er…ummm…”
“Do you know what has been happening in the family since you left? Your parents are in Lucknow so they wouldn’t get all the news. Ravi Mama has died. He was feeling quite well when he went to sleep one day but when he woke up he was dead. Surabhi’s eldest son has got admission into IIM at Ahmedabad, they spent nearly 1 lakh on his tuition classes. Education is becoming more and more expensive nowadays, and his parents have a big loan now to repay. They took it from Corporation Bank. I told them it would be better to take from Bank of Baroda, Rukmini Mami works for them but Surabhi is very stubborn. She told me Corporation Bank has lower interest. I told her, see, that bank is not so interested in your child. Why did you have to choose them? Surabhi has told this to everyone and they all are laughing. Quite naturally. Surabhi is so stupid that whenever she talks it is like a joke. Gopal Chacha and Shivani Chachi are going to Europe on a package tour. They should have taken SOTC but they chose Kesari tours. Last year, my husband and I went on to Europe on Kesari tours. It was very good, but I didn’t like the Mona Lisa. Her eyes follow you wherever you go! So sly! I am sure you must have gone on tours of America when you were there. Have you seen the Statue of Liberty?”
“No I haven’t, but…”
“Of course, you were in Boston. But you should have gone to see it. You will never get such an opportunity. I went to Delhi this summer to visit Vaishali Mami and I made her take me to see the Kutab Minar. It was better than the Leaning Tower of Pisa, because this tower was straight. Vaishali Mami has a new grandson. She takes care of him while her daughter-in-law goes to work. I don’t approve of it. The baby is only nine months old. He should still be getting mother’s milk. Do you nurse?”
“No, but…”
“That’s very bad. All the young mothers nowadays are going in for Cerelac and that rubbish they call baby food. Baby food! The best food for a baby is mother’s milk, everyone knows that. This is what happens when the modern generation go and copy Americans. They should maintain their Indian values. My neighbor’s daughter went to America, married a white man and got divorced in two years! Such a shame! She was from a good family. I will never send my children to America, Americans have such dirty habits. I hope you do not use toilet paper like them. I’m worried about your husband. He calls you ‘babes’ and wants you to do this western dance with him! When I next speak to your mother I will have to tell her this. She will give you good advice.”
“I’m not married!”
“Not married! You shameless girl! Does your mother know this! She will die of shame! You are from such a good family, Prajakta! Don’t disgrace us. Such terrible things happen to well brought up girls when they go to America! And the baby! Don’t you care about her future?”
“Of course I do. She’s my sister’s daughter. And my name isn’t Prajakta, it’s Prachi.”
