LITMIR.BIZ

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also taller and heavier than her petite friend, and typically wore salwar kameez rather than saris.

      The two women had plenty in common. One of the things they often did together was cook – especially when they had grandchildren visiting. Kummi Paati was always happy to make South Indian favourites for Neela’s grandchildren, most often dosai (lentil pancakes) and vadai (fried savoury doughnuts); today, Neela was returning the favour by making aloo paratha (flat bread stuffed with seasoned potatoes) for breakfast.

      ‘Hmphh. That Kumar is a stupid fellow, I have always known it.’

      She continued to knead the dough with unnecessary vigour. Her dupatta slipped from her shoulder and she deftly put it back in place while continuing to knead.

      ‘That girl only wants to study and better herself! She’s so well behaved, Kummi.’

      Neela opened the pressure cooker and removed the cooked potatoes from inside.

      ‘Here,’ Kummi Paati said. ‘Let me peel and mash them.’

      ‘Okay, I just need another two minutes to finish making this dough. But tell me, what exactly did that man say when you spoke to him?’

      ‘Just that they thought it was time she learned how to manage a household and cook, without which no one would want to marry her. She had studied enough, if she studied any more it would be hard to find a husband ... the usual kind of thing.’

      ‘That depends on who she marries, doesn’t it? Nowadays men actually come into the kitchen.’

      Kummi Paati nodded.

      ‘Your husband and mine, Kummi, they don’t even know how to make a cup of tea! But Ashu makes everything, you know?’

      Ashu was Ashutosh, her son.

      ‘Last time I visited him, he made all of our food, you know?’ said Neela, listing all of the family favourites – rajma (spiced kidney beans), kadhi pakora (fried dough in gravy), channa masala (chickpeas curry), chicken saag. ‘And he even makes sweets now! Kheer, barfi, everything!’ she concluded.

      ‘That’s very good, Neela. If you want to eat well, you should know how to cook well. That’s what I told both my children. You can’t expect your mother to come and cook for you your whole life, can you?’

      ‘Exactly! So why is this Kumar fellow acting like he is from my great-grandfather’s generation? If and when she gets married, Sanjana can learn how to cook then. That’s how it is nowadays. Not like you and me; we were sent into the kitchen as soon as we could hold a ladle.’

      She placed the first paratha on the hotplate and applied a generous helping of oil. Soon the smell would permeate the house.

      ‘Anyway, he should be grateful to that girl. She has given her parents her full salary, you know?’

      ‘No, has she? Oh, so her father can manage her bank accounts?’

      ‘Kummi,’ Neela said, lowering her voice, ‘let me tell you what I heard. She does not have her own account. All joint accounts in that house. So her father has access to all her money.’

      ‘Well that’s probably so he can help with her investments and–’

      ‘Hmphh! Investments, it seems. He is only investing in himself.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘You remember Ashu’s friend, Devesh? They were in school together? Anyway, Devesh’s uncle’s next-door neighbour also works in the same company as Kumar. I saw Devesh’s uncle recently at a wedding and we happened to chat. And he was telling me that Kumar was passed over when he was due for his last promotion. That was two years ago. And no sign of him getting the promotion any time soon.’

      ‘Oh, really?’

      ‘But meanwhile, this man Kumar lives like a king. They only just bought a car, maybe two years ago? Then they had air conditioning installed last summer. Now I heard he has bought a new media unit?’

      Kummi Paati nodded.

      ‘Yes he has, I saw it the other day.’

      ‘So all this money he is splashing around, it must be coming from somewhere.’

      ‘You think ...’

      ‘Where else, Kummi?’

      Kummi exhaled and shook her head. Neela was right, she knew. The less said about the complicated methods through which Neela got her information, the better. Uncharitable people described her as a gossip. But Kummi Paati was a staunch friend.

      ‘Children! Come and eat!’ Neela called, taking the hot parathas out to the dining area. She needn’t have summoned them. The children had already set the table and were seated there, waiting.

      ‘Nina, take the butter out of the fridge. Alisha, go get the mixed pickle. No, not that jar, the one next to it. Somu ji, please come and eat,’ she finished, adding an honorific to convey respect.

      Neela served the rest of the family while Kummi Paati stayed in the kitchen clearing up. She was grappling with what she had just been told. Poor child. Kummi herself had always thought that it was important for children to have a say in their lives. If Lacchu had had more of a say ... well really, would she have known what she wanted?

      Perhaps it was Lacchu’s life that had made Kummi Paati so determined to give her own daughter the options she’d never had. And she had never regretted this. After all, Shaku was happy with her life now, wasn’t she?

      Wasn’t she?

      And what about Sanjana? Did she know what her father was using her money for? She must – she was a smart girl. Not the type to ignore what was happening with her own bank account. If Neela was right – and she usually was – the man should have been grateful. He enjoyed showing off his belongings and his daughter was allowing him to do that.

      Suddenly, a thought struck Kummi Paati.

      Yeemai?

      Oh ...

       * * *

      Kummi Paati waited until the weekend. That was her best opportunity, she knew.

      She had made Sanjana write to the university and accept the offer. The girl had done so, reluctantly. She clearly could not see why Kummi Paati was so confident.

      But then, she didn’t know what Kummi Paati knew.

      At around 11am, she saw Sanjana walking out of the building. She waited for ten minutes and then climbed one level up to Kumar’s flat. This was going to be an awkward conversation, but it was one worth having.

      She was invited inside by Karuna, who was particularly effusive. Kummi Paati had not stopped by after their last conversation, and Karuna had probably had the opportunity to regret her thoughtless comments.

      ‘Kummi Paati, Kumar has just been raving about your vadams. Kumar! Kummi Paati is here; you can tell her yourself!’

      There was a slight shuffling noise from inside the bedroom and then Kumar came out wearing his usual lungi.

      ‘Kummi Paati! You are most welcome in this house. We are your biggest fans! Karuna–’

      ‘Yes, yes, I am making coffee,’ Karuna said, leaving the room.

      Kummi Paati smiled at Kumar.

      ‘I am glad you enjoyed it.’

      ‘Of course, of course. When have I not enjoyed your food?’

      He looked around.

      ‘Sanjana has just gone out. She shouldn’t be too long though–’

      ‘I know,’ Kummi Paati said. ‘I waited for her to leave.’

      As Karuna came back with some snacks, Kumar laughed.

      ‘Kummi Paati, I hope you are not going to start the same topic again. I thought

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