Pappa jeee, it is only a month to Christmas and the house is looking so dull . Note the  word ‘Pappa’ jeee – when my mom uses this endearment it is a double edged sword . First she wants to get him into action, which  almost always has the fate of an unanswered prayer.

Second she is consciously refraining from losing control and erring on the side of being polite , lest she slips on to more crass words like Manusha (man) , useless, worthless. Use of such words may necessitate a  confession especially during Christmas and mom never likes standing in the long confession que  in church. Imagine the stigma of standing in a confession box. Her neighbour Mrs Lingam and Mrs Dias were always in the line and for sure their conscious must be full of sins. She would not want to project such an image of herself to the public . Most importantly there would not be a single clergy member who does not know mom or has not tasted her wonderful cooking and she would hate to expose her unbridled and darker side to anyone. As children we used to watch all known people in the confession que and guess their sins.

Now on the other side  my wonderful dad could not be budged to action even with an earthquake . His periodic slumber every 15 minutes after his morning walk with princey (our pet ) was his fundamental right and he exercised it in full. The only exception was if he had to help in baking cake, making savouries or climbing the banana tree with the promise of steamed fish etc. Now these are mutually benefitting activities which fetch rich dividends for dad and his voracious appetite and sweet tooth . And these adjustments he would make willingly although he would still be pricey about it.

In youth I was truly my dad’s daughter as I loved a retired life, spent usefully in slumber and exaggerated state of rest . But I did not have all the skills of my dad so mom had given up on me. Even by being myself I could manage to have a huge share of all the goodies because the blame would always invariably go on dad.

Princey had more skills especially in tasting batter (for cake )  to see if it had a right mix of all ingredients and vetting the aroma of a baked cake . She was gainfully employed by my mother sometimes but the latter  invariably (or intentionally) forgot to reward her . But princey magnanimously forgave her for such acts . She simply stole her reward and had no guilt about it . If ever she was caught or chided , she would show her Doberman traits by exposing her canines in fury . So mom and she truly deserved each other .

Pappa jee you go to the village behind our house and get some hay for making the crib, then climb the loft and bring down the Christmas decorations and the tree . Mom loved giving instructions but sadly there were no takers in the family. We have to quickly get it ready for Christmas before the carol singers come. Mom always wanted the house fully decorated and her cake baked before the carol singers come . And she would distribute cake to each one of the carol singers asking how is the cake ? They were all supposed to say – best is Abraham Aunty’s cake . They had been made to practice and memorize this. They knew the dire consequences if any other response is given – During the next year’s carol visit , the cake slice would generously be smaller in slice and the slight prospects of getting an additional fish cutlet would be even minimal than usual.

Pappa jee probably weighed both the suggestions in his deep sleep and did not respond to either as the proposition was not attractive to him. So when next time the  nice Malayalee boy Sabu visits our house for nothing mom throws a bait for him – Oh I haven’t found anybody suitable for Jeena . Nowadays it is so difficult to find good obedient boys that I am now thinking of opening up invitations to other boys than Canaanites (blue blooded Catholics direct descendants from Cana ). Since I had no one in life every prospect whom my mother weighed carefully was entertainment for me. Sabu fell for the bait like catfish and trout would fall into an experienced fisherman’s net with ease.

Sabu the young 24 year old man who would not be caught improper in any way comes back on his mobike with a huge pile of hay on the back seat. The Enfield dies a thousand deaths in shame over the period of four years while I was still single. Sabu’s faith in God and Abraham Aunty was strong and he lived in the hope that Abraham Aunty would sensibly replace the pillion stock (on the back of his motorbike) of hay with her daughter in the future. So now the hay was done and the decorations had come down. Sabu’s parting words to Abraham Aunty would be – Aunty don’t give away Jeena to anyone outside our Canaanite community. I was aware of mothers trading skills and was confident that she could easily make strong promises without meaning anything.

To be continued