Chapter 1

Those were the days (1980s) when Lucille Ball dominated our leisure times. For those who have not witnessed the star American Comedy Series called – Here’s Lucy! , you have missed something. My dad and me were sold out to Lucy and would follow her loyally. Mom never liked comedies. Even when the series was no longer aired on television our love for Lucy continued as we watched her over and over again on VCRs and CDs. I wish Lucy would have known the profound influence she had on one Mr Abraham (dad) in New Delhi, India.

It was a Saturday morning and parents were preparing for a feast celebration, in the cathedral next day. Mom was ironing her saree and dad was busy servicing his precious Fiat preparing for the travel next day. He had promised to take Crazy (mom’s nickname coined by my dad) and two nuns from the nearby convent to the Cathedral. The ladies did not know how to drive, and taxis were expensive. Dad was planning and preparing for this important mission for two days.

When Dad took out his tools from the tool box, he was gone for the day and was oblivious to other matters of the world. The case was the same whether he was engaged in repairing the kitchen mixer grinder, the main electricity switch box or servicing the car. Neither food nor people would interest him. He was fully focussed on his job and he loved it. The toolbox was painted a dark bottle green and was full of boring pliers, screwdrivers of all sizes, hammers big and small, wire cutters, pliers, wrench set, rubber mallet and what not . Neither mom nor me were allowed to touch it without permission. It was was zealously guarded like Mom as protectively as mom would be about her mixer grinder, cutlery set and the imported oven. The tool box was kept in the small store of our house. Dad would prefer to lose valuables and jewellery of the house rather than any tools big or small.

In the veranda the car bonnet was lifted high and dad was buried in it. Nobody was allowed to wander near the car, lest he gets disturbed. The tools were scattered around him. Princey our pet doberman, lying on the sofa near me whined occasionally now and then calling out to my dad suggesting that she could pull out the wires from the engine better and quicker. It would save dad a lot of energy and effort. I was of course watching (through the glass door of the living room) lazily as I had no stake in anything.

‘Puttu ‘ (a rice and coconut mix kerala dish) will be ready in half an hour, mom called out from the kitchen. Her Puttu Koddum (the mud pot in which Puttu is made) steamed loudly echoing her words and the Kadala curry (black gram curry with coconut) simmered coyly , in the iron vessel nearby.

With repeated threats, calls and barks dad came in quickly to have a bit of Puttu and Kadala , gulped some tea and went back to business.

At around 12 pm two sisters from the nearby convent dropped in. They opened the gate of the house and greeted – Hello Mr Abraham! I am busy, dad replied in a stern voice and the nervous sisters quickly left the veranda to enter into the living room. Don’t bother, my mother consoled them- He is like that if he is with his precious car. He wants the car to be in perfect condition when he takes us to the cathedral tomorrow. The sisters left after a short visit.

It was almost 1 pm when we heard a loud thud, bonnet closed, dad walked into the living room with his face and hands in different shades of brown and black. Why did you shout at the sisters, mom demanded ? They did not even taste the ‘Puttu’. She was more upset that the scared sisters left without tasting her cooking. And please clean up your mess in the veranda. I hope the car will move tomorrow instead of yawning in the parking.

Keep quiet Crazy, I have worked hard , cleaned and oiled it. Let me show you and he went out and started the car. The car roared into life waking up Princey from her slumber, Mrs Dsa our neighbour from her afternoon nap and the birds from their seista on our drumstick tree in the little garden.

For once you have done some useful work , Mom complimented and dad beamed. But what is this, she picked up a strange thing (resembled a spark plug) from the ground – looks like something from the engine. Hmm yes definitely not from my tool box replied dad.

It definitely looks like a part of the engine mom reiterated. Don’t be silly crazy – the car started and you heard it. I have put in everything that I took out and this is something extra – Like in Lucy’s car, he said with a chuckle. He reminded mom of the serial when Lucy after cleaning and oiling her car threw off some parts lying on the floor. Ghosh Dad had used Lucy the comedian at the most opportune moment.

That episode of Lucy’s was a hit with me and dad where she threw away a part or two of her car engine saying they were extras, when she could not figure out where it belonged. Such was the influence the beautiful American comedian had on my dad’s life. Mom lost it as she could never deal with a logic connected to Lucy . She stomped her foot and walked in and dad thought he had outsmarted her for once.

A perfect mystery was to follow…………………………

Chapter 2

Sabbath dawned on the Abraham house in a hurry that day. Dad was dressed and ready (by 6 am) in a green shirt endorsing his love for plants and trees.

Mom limped in and out of the kitchen while brushing her teeth. Manusha (hey man) vatta ondo (are you mad)? Dad’s body clock had a manufacturing defect. He had to be ready two hours in advance of any journey plus one hour before the actual event. Figure that out please! I don’t calculate very well on Sunday’s as my mental calculator has a day off. It would irritate my mom no end who had numerous tasks to do and my dad fully dressed would keep crossing her path while she was still moving around in her night dress.

Today we had Dosa with sugar (no time for Sambhar and chutney) for breakfast , as mom was busy making mutton and fish cutlets for her priest friends in the Cathedral and the sisters accompanying her. It took another hour for mom to get ready in a saree with enough powder on her face to withstand a bout of torrential rain. Cutlets were neatly packed and water bottles lined up for the journey. Those days the clergy and nuns were important part of the Christian families.

The two sisters from the convent opened our iron gates and nervously walked in. Hello Sister! greeted my dad with a broad smile and it made the nuns wonder whether he was Gajini (remember Amir Khan with short term memory loss in a Bollywood movie)? Dad had completely forgotten his previous days stern behaviour with the nuns.

No time to come inside the house , he said as he ushered them into the spotlessly clean car – lots of traffic on the way. So the two sisters crowded into the back seat of the car (parked within our house veranda) with little choice or voice of their own. Don’t open the windows as it wont close easily, instructed dad. The sisters baked inside the car with closed windows, in the sweltering Delhi heat, wondering if they should continue to pray for the Abraham family after this torture ?

Dad ran into the house announcing – Crazy ,hurry up! Sisters are in the car ready to go. Bring them inside my mother roared, I need another 10 minutes to fix my earrings. No, No they are very comfortable in the car, if they come in, we will be late, he moaned.

I and Princey watched all the action from the living room. I had a premonition that my future mother in law will advice me never to get into husband wife arguments as they would patch up in the end and the intruder would then be the common target. I shared my wisdom with Princey too, so we both sat quiet while mother came out furiously with her ear rings in her hand announcing she will wear them in the car. A Malayali without gold earrings and a gold biscuit chain on the neck was unthinkable at those times. How will people know we have Dubai /Saudi Arabia connections?

Close the gate after I take the car out and apply for some jobs, chided dad threating to cut short my youth retirement days. Dad sat in the car and adjusted mom’s plump hands which were threatening to take over his driving space. When we are short of mutton we take some meat off from Crazy’s hand to cook- dad cracked a joke, sisters laughed and mom gritted her teeth in anger.

On the wheel Dad was a different man. No singing talking , or playing songs just be focussed on driving. And anywhere he had to go (apart from Cathedral) in New Delhi , he would first to go to INA market from our home in trans Yamuna. He liked to start his journey from familiar places. If you want him to take you, you do things his way. He used to drive mom mad driving first to INA every time they had to go to Holy Family hospital, Janak puri or even Jama masjid to buy fish. If she got angry, he would stop on the road and ask her to drive knowing very well that Crazy only had a license to kill.

Dad switched on the ignition and the car choked saying- No way! He coaxed the engine again and prayed to St Anthony his patron (and retriever of lost things) saint but the latter was busy or sleeping. To be honest it was not a case of things going missing so it was out of St Anthony’s jurisdiction. He tried again and again to get the engine going but in vain. Mom’s breathing became heavier in fury. By this time the sisters (one was fair and the other dark) baked into vanilla and chocolate cakes, lost their equilibrium and pulled down the car windows not caring whether they will go up again or not.

Crazy I cant imagine why this is not starting said dad in a small voice. Well I know why retorted mom , and she pinched him hard on the hand. I told you yesterday that little thing you put back into the tool box as an extra was a part of the engine. Get your ‘Lucy’ to start this box now or I will give it to the kabaddi (scrap dealer ) she threatened. I and princey sensing a storm had just gone back into the living room closing the door behind us,

Dad got out of the car and rang the door bell shouting – Jeena get my spanner and pliers from the tool box and mom lost her cool. If you dare get that out while we are sitting ready for church service, I will stamp and break each one of the tools. Do that Crazy , and I will never climb up the banana or drumstick tree for you, threatened dad sensing danger to one of his main arteries – The tool box!

Come sister’s, mom coaxed the two out and she told Dad – quiet now till we come back. All four walked to the autorickshaw stand (outside the view of my personal CCTV) and took two autorickshaws to the cathedral.

Princey and I predictably took a nap while waiting for them to come back……….

Chapter 3 – The incident (Part A)

A week later the legion of Mary ( (catholic rosary prayer group) came to our house out of turn. They led the rosary in Hindi and my dad intervened loudly in Malayalam. Mom, intercepted the sound traffic in English – “Hail Mary full of Grace, the lord is with you”… Recitation in diverse language may have caused some confusion in heaven above, but this was the norm in the Abraham family. Divine intervention was needed for a number of things in the Abraham family especially for a suitable boy for me, the unemployed not so young girl slightly on the heavier side and with no skills or talent in particular.

On the dining table the piping hot Mysore bonda’s (fried potato balls) deliciously brown and crispy were laid on butter paper to soak up the extra oil. Aval (beaten rice mixed with coconut and jaggery) sat beside it as the perfect companion with a promise to melt in your mouth in everlasting sweetness.

Two days had passed since the car fiasco but mom continued to voice her disgrace at meal times. She repeated a common malayalee idiom – Ende Toli uringe poyi (my skin melted with shame) at meal times to make dad feel worse. I wondered who coined this idiom as I could do with replacing some of my scarred skin melting awat? Mom was worried that the two gossip mongers Sr Jessie (nicknamed as Idili Mizhingi – someone who could swallow a dozen idili’s without batting an eyelid) and Sr Mary (nicknamed as ‘Little Jesus’ as she could never complete a sentence without pouting her lips and saying – ‘O my Little Jesus’) will tell the whole church that Mrs Abraham has a chakra vandi (car worth one paisa of ancient time’s). Dad quietly gobbled the idli’s at the breakfast table avoiding direct eye contact. Crazy’s chutney and Sambhar at breakfast were burning hot with chillies these days , reflecting her fury.

Dad led all the sheep astray during the rosary as he would look at each of the 8 legions (including Sr Jessie and Sr Mary) and guide their gaze towards the delicious spread on the dining table. Suddenly Dad started running with the rosary at supersonic speed, inciting others to do the same , lest the Bonda’s lose their crispiness. The recitation soon became a frenzy in garbled language.

At tea time all kinds of promises were being elicited from Dad by the ladies as they savoured the bonda’s and Aval. Mr Abraham you must come and plant some tapioca in the church-okay ? said Lily Chacko. Maria Beg urged – ‘Abraham let us go to the Masigarh church, one day and pray to our lady of good health. And we will go straight not via INA please’ ? Before dad could protest on that important ground rule, the doorbell rang.

Sabharwal Uncle (neighbour) stood at the gate enquiringly. Dad went out and greeted him. “Arrey Abraham ek spanner dena ! Flat tyre hai “(hey Abraham give a wheel wrench? I have a flat tyre).

Sabharwal Uncle was one of the most sensible serious neighbours and my mother held him in high esteem. Dad had no interest in him as he had never seen him up on a tree nor with mud soiled hands.

One moment said Dad, and steadily walked to the store. Minutes later a frantic voice called out – Crazy where is the tool box ? The urgency in the voice moved the centre of gravity from the living room to the store. Mom and I rushed with the guests towards the store. Dad was frantically searching for the toolbox amongst boxes stacked in the small store , which was clearly not there.

The doorbell rang again impatiently, and my father growled– “ask him to get out”. I rushed and apologised to Uncle saying dad cant find it , and that he should ask elsewhere. While back inside, the house was raided by the legions and Crazy’s privacy invaded , much to her distaste. There was no stopping the ladies who would not see their dear Mr Abraham upset.

Maria Beg climbed on to the bed in my room to peep on top of the almirah and mom almost pulled the bed from under her feet in anger. Sr Mary religiously called out ‘ Oh my little Jesus , every time she primly held on to her skirt and bent to look under the bed ,the table and various other places. Syliva another legion squeezed in through the narrow opening on the side of the fridge, drawing in her fairly large tummy and breath. When she got stuck there dad rushed with a helping hand and tried pulling her out. Crazy did not like the helping hand and deliberately pushed the fridge back suffocating and cloistering Sylvia further and then moved on saying a non-apologetic sorry. Dad and Sr Jessie performed the herculean task of moving the fridge to rescue Sylvia who came out dishevelled and gasping for breath.

Dad shone his torch all over in the lighted room, on the legions, in his tiny garden (in broad daylight), on the roof under the bed in the bathroom. The car boot shook its head in denial when dad enquired about the toolbox.

Chapter 3 – The incident (Part B)

In a desperate rage, dad confronted Mom – where is the tool box? Go and search man, I never use that wretched box, replied mom, not liking his tone (and all the ladies attention on her) with all the laity in the house !

I was watching Mom, the prime suspect closely but it led me nowhere. Mom was a tough nut to crack. Dad or me would have spilled the beans by now but Mom could carry a charade for years. Besides the car, mom’s favourite mixer grinder (from Dubai) had emerged with a spare part after dad had try to fix it. No doubt Lucille Ball had a lot to answer for, in the Abraham household.

However there was no way Mom could have lifted the iron box. Even dad never lifted it. He would simply pick some tools out. Above all Princey was there and she would have ripped apart (remember Princey’s idiosyncrasies ) the thief’s butt. Little Jesus asked loudly – should we call the police? Sr Jessie pondered over the idea, gobbled a bonda (as fodder for thought ) and remarked – let us call the Parish Priest – Father Albert Pinto ?

Dad was withering away every minute. Mom presided over the durbar and recollected the activities of the past 2 days following the cathedral visit- “Abraham went for his usual walk with Princey thrice a day and Jeena may have gone out once or twice. I was here all the time. The fish man had come from Jama Masjid to deliver the weekly ration today and the newspaper man had come to collect his money. The tool box was last seen on Saturday and Jeena was home alone on Sunday when we went to the Cathedral. Mom I screamed , why would I do that ? ‘Little Jesus’ came to my rescue saying –“Oh my little Jesus , Jeena is an honest and lazy girl, she wont do that”.

Two of the ladies had quickly enquired from neighbouring D’sa aunty whether any scrap dealer (kabadi) had come to our house? Mom compelled by dad’s obsession for the toolbox never missed an opportunity in the church or neighbourhood to announce she would gift it to the Kabadi. D’sa aunty denied and said Kabadi is allowed in the colony only on Sundays and today is Wednesday. Only the fish guy from Jama Masjid had come – to my place, Abraham’s and the D’souza’s. And as an afterthought D’sa Aunty chuckled and added “Mrs Abraham may have set it on fire. After that she neither laughed or chuckled for some weeks as mom in retaliation never agreed to baby sit her octogenarian aunt when the family wanted a day out. One of my mom’s favourite sayings (created by herself) – earlier on you got paid for your sins later , but nowadays Jesus gives it to you there and then. So D’sa aunty got it there and then!

The legions left with a heavy heart and a deep suspicion but no one could take my mother on and there was no evidence. Clearly the tool box was not there and Mom with her limp could not have carried it out. And nobody had entered the house. As the crowd was moving out Sr Jessie made a request to my mom for which she paid dearly – “Please forgive Mr Abraham, he will never watch the Lucy show again” ! Mom bit her lip in anger and said with a smile – Sister Jessie, I am not convinced that the search is over , I am coming to search the convent next. No further comments were made and Sr Jessie was not invited home for a long time for any suppers or tasty bites.

Dinner was wasted on Dad and he went to bed early, absolutely perplexed. He was sure Crazy could never have done this and no one had entered the house ? He prayed and hoped that God had distributed equal powers and territories to each of the saints in heaven. For Crazy’s patron Saint was the powerful Saint Joseph who may have asked Christ for a miracle and make the toolbox disappear. However his own patron Saint was St Anthony who was given special powers of finding lost things. Dad had tested St Anthony for as small a thing as a safety pin and as big as Crazy’s lost artificial hair bun which fell off in the transport bus while they were coming back one day from Dhaula Kuan. It was dad’s St Anthony who found the hair bun.

The conductor on that route was a known guy and when enquired on the next trip , he produced it from inside the safety box of the bus. He had kept it nicely wrapped in a newspaper lest someone asks for it. Dad also wondered if St Joseph should be answering Crazy’s prayers unjudiciously? Anyway this was a challenge and from then onwards dad prayed night and day invoking St Anthony to outshine St Joseph.

But where was dad’s toolbox? Princey and I looked at each other suspiciously, then eased our brows and stared at Mom collectively asking – But how and where ? Princey was sure it was Mom as she belived Mom had no heart. All the chicken and mutton pieces were calculated several times before putting into her bowl. If one extra piece fell down by mistake into the bowl it was put back into the plastic bag and refrigerated.The mystery of the toolbox was to deepen in the days to come.

Chapter 4 – Life without the Toolbox

So where was the toolbox ? Dad lost interest in everything,  pinning over his lost toolbox. For Mom it was business as usual and when questioned she would say with a straight face – good riddance to bad rubbish. Every time she said this Dad’s heart would sink . He remembered his 30 year old tools which he used to oil and shine on a regular basis . Oh how much he missed the sight  of that green box with the painted skull on it . He had made so many versions of the skull before Princey approved the last one with continuous barking . If any one would sympathise with Dad my mother would scorn and say  – Tomorrow if I die , he will not cry for a day and look at him whimpering away , for a rusted tool box .

Much like mom the inanimate things at home heaved a sigh of relief with the tool box missing and started showing their moods . The iron box flickered its lights, would get heated fast and burnt holes in moms sarees while leaving the blouse wrinkled without any remorse or fear. The mixie would often growl back at mom refusing to run with consistent speed . The main switch board in the house would trip  off and on without reason. Mom’s Saudi Arabian wrist watch went to sleep at 3 am in the morning without any warning . The Fiat yawned  lazily in the verandah with no fear of its bonnet being opened and tampered with . The missing toolbox was not missed at all by anyone except poor dad.

 Princey was neutral as she pretended to sympathise with Dad when he took her for her walk and she would come back and lie down at Mom’s feet. She clearly knew which side of the bread was buttered and when ? Food was the only important part of her life and she could not take any chances with it. Yes she had less fun nowadays as dad was not frequently climbing the drumstick or banana tree and she missed her fun barking as he climbed up and down. She lost out on all treats from neighbours as she would bark loudly informing the neighbours that her master was on heights and the latter would come one by one asking for drumstick or banana leaves .

 I was totally perplexed as to what had happened . I had no stake in the tool box or the spoilt mixer grinder  or the sedentary Fiat so could think objectively. Dad lost interest in Lucille Ball as he blamed her for his fate. The nuns came in regularly from the convent on alternate days to pray for Mr Abraham’s toolbox to appear.

On the following Sunday, Father Pinto the Parish Priest came in as word had spread in the church, about the missing toolbox. Father Pinto fondly nicknamed as Billi (cat ) by me because he was forever talking about the  delicious (plump) cat  meat he had eaten once in his village . This made Princey  very suspicious of him because he would look at her very meaningfully every time he came over. The priest was the only man in the world she did not trust . For her he was so evil that he made her forget that she was a gentle Labrador in her previous birth and reminded that in the present she was a ferocious Doberman ! When he was around she would constantly display her deadly canines and any movement from him , while inside the house would make her suspicious . During Easter , Billi used to visit all the catholic  houses in the parish to bless and pray for the families . This was the day on which Princey used to be on high alert . It was her mission in life to duck the holy water which Billy would throw at the family members blessing each one of them. Going by his reputation of drooling at cats , Princey suspected the holy water was actually animal chloroform. In this life she was not going to give him the pleasure of devouring her and being nicknamed  ‘ Kutta ‘ (dog) instead of Billi. She herself loved chasing cats and making them run for their life but she could never stoop to the level of killing or eating them .She wondered if he ever confessed (as was mandatory for catholics) and most importantly , was he hand in glove with mom on the case of the missing toolbox ?

The sisters and Billi prayed hard and consoled dad for almost two weeks but divine grace eluded dad. D’sa Aunty next door told him to say sorry to Crazy and promise that he will never use the tools for anything in the house . But dad shrugged saying that Crazy’s hard exteriors were packed with a tender heart inside . He trusted her implicitly and mom knew that. I knew in my heart of hearts that Mom had reached her threshold when the Fiat did not start and the drama unfolded in front of the the convent sisters .

Finally after two weeks Billy on one of his visits advised dad that he has to ‘up’ his game to the next level. The missing toolbox was beyond the remit of the patron of lost things – St Anthony. He advised dad to pray to St Jude the patron of hopeless cases . Nobody knew that St Jude had conflict of interest with my mom as my mother was always praying to him pleading that he was her only hope . My dad would not usually go to him as he was a simple man and followed hierarchy. He would invoke St Anthony always first and everything was camouflaged into a lost case so as to fit into the latter’ s jurisdiction . For example if I had an exam my dad would pray that nothing not even my intelligence should go missing that day. And St Anthony was susceptible to the words missing /lost etc .

So one day Dad pledged a visit to St Jude in Jhansi if the latter could miraculously get the toolbox back. Sisters and Billi promised to support him in prayers. My mother did not blink an eyelid but it is important to note that not even a cup of tea was offered to the praying guests . This was something one could not associate with my mom, as she was always on the look out for praise whether it be tea or the rose cookies she had made herself.  Now this was becoming very complex both on earth and in heaven.

Chapter 5- The missing tool box comes home

It was a Sunday late afternoon , when I and princey had gone out for a stroll to see if there were any new eligible bachelors in the colony. Princey of course restricted her gaze to the four legged ones. We just entered the house and the house bell rang. I and dad both pretended we had not heard. Dad had lost interest in life, visitors, prayers and food since his main artery- the toolbox went missing. On the second bell my mother screamed limping into the living room asking if the whole family had gone deaf.

The door opened and there stood our regular fish man beaming with a box full of fish and meat for the Abraham family. Princey pounced on it and my mother threated to starve her if she even dare salivates. After handing over the fish and meat Sheik (fish vendor) called up to my dad and said he has something for him too. He went back to his scooter and to our utter surprise came back holding Dad’s toolbox brightly painted. Dad me and princey stared with open mouths while crazy beamed a knowing look. The tool box was newly painted and the skull on it was a bright white. Isn’t it looking good asked Sheikh? My dad almost in tears went and took it from him. Your wife loves you said Sheikh. She said it was going dull with rust and that it should be painted bright. She said nobody will miss it and I could get it done in my own time.

Oh crazy why didnt you tell me my father asked lovingly. But wait a minute why is it light? Where are the tools? Oh I have nothing to do with it Shaikh said and moved out with his money. Dad looked at mom with pleading eyes. She sighed loud and said those stupid tools are in this house but you have to put a hand on the bible and say you will stop seeing Lucille Ball . I cant stand that stupid woman who wrecks up our life with silly pranks. My dad promised and Princey and I wondered whether he had meant it. Who would leave watching Lucy for a set of tools ?

With a winning smile my mother said well you sleep with the tools every day. What? Dad had no patience and prodded mom. Just go to the bedroom and I will come. The small army walked into parents room with Princey leading the way in excitement. Now Jeena and you can lift up the heavy mattress said my mother with tongue in cheek. Princey climbed on the bed to help but dad made her jump off. We both lifted up the heavy mattress and behold their lay the treasure all neatly stacked. Dad lay on the tools hugging them and relieved. It was always here silly man and you slept on it night and day. My mom had cleverly hidden it and rightly it was cushioned off with the mattress. What a perfect hiding place.

The promised visit to St Jude happened. Billi said a thanks giving mass with all the sisters and legion of Mary present. D’sa Aunty never lost an opportunity to secretly say to Dad – I told you so! My Dad broke his promise and continued seeing Lucy serials but made sure he confessed to the priest periodically about breaking his promise.