Double Eggs' Omelette

The cooking maid was more worried than her. The cooking gas had exhausted and it was 9 PM of a winter night.

But, unlike her cooking maid, she took the news calmly. She decided to give her nerves some rest this time.

Then she looked at him, not so scornfully. He was working at his laptop, quite unprepared for this horrible news at this hour of night. And those looks - he knew what they meant. It was on Saturday itself that he had been already given the warning to book the gas and today was Wednesday. He really needed to be careful now before uttering anything from his auspicious mouth, he knew that. Or else, there could be an explosion without the cylinder bursting though.

"Honey, who would have received the Gas Man, say? Both of us leave the house at 9 in the morning, to return at 7 in the evening. Is not it?"

She did not even look up from the comics' strip that she was reading.

The cooking maid gave her husband's reply instead. The cooking maid had many options of course and she could help if it was a BHARAT Gas, but (unfortunately) it was a HP cylinder that they had. She advised them to get a Double Cylinder Connection which she had told them earlier also and that she had one at her home, too. And she asked them to arrange for a stove as of now. And then she recalled how she had repeatedly warned them for booking the Gas beforehand in order to avoid this kind of sudden troubles. She then announced that, nothing more could be done. She tucked in the half cooked vegetables into the refrigerator and left.

"Honey, what about a bonfire on the roof? We could fire some newspapers and do the rest of the cooking?" he muttered under his breath with so much of after thoughts.

There was no response.

He opened the refrigerator, and searched for something for some time.

"Honey, where is the Gas Book that I had kept in the refrigerator?"

Quite true. He had kept the Gas Book in a safe and cool place, which is inside the refrigerator itself. She did not know what to think of it when she saw it for the first time. She said normally, "I have kept it above the refrigerator."

He fiddled with the Gas book, for some time, and then left it on the bed, knowing nothing could be done now and went into the kitchen.

"Honey, we still have the rice and the dal already cooked. Only the curry needs to be warmed up a bit. And an omelette of double eggs will do a fine job. What do you think?"

It seemed that she needed some air to breathe out. She called up her mother in law, and her mom, and narrated for a long time the same incident to both of them. It made her feel a bit lighter.

He took two eggs from the refrigerator, a sauce pan and a spoon from the kitchen.

By the time she had finished her calls, she noticed that he was not around.

Suspecting something fishy, she went to the roof terrace.

There he was all smiling, sitting with a sauce pan in his hands, held over a small fire before him.

She was just speechless. She could not believe that he really did it, that he really meant of doing it - an omelette of double eggs, on the roof, by preparing a fire made of just newspapers.

"Honey, see the omelette is almost done, you will see that this one tastes far better than the one cooked on the gas. Can you just pass me some more of those papers please"?

She had no doubt that it would taste better. She passed him some more papers. The omelette was now done.

"Honey, you wont be angry, nah? I used the paper box, where those new glasses had been kept. Actually I required some hard papers for starting up the fire."

Well, she was not.

The Punishment

She could not believe her eyes.

The rooms were in a such a mess, that she could not believe what she saw before her. The door open ajar, she stood there for a second, staring at the rooms.

The bed sheet was crumpled in the centre, with pillows, some on the floor. some spread across the bed. The water bottles lay astray across the room, without any drop of water within them to drink. The newspapers lay all over the room in different shapes and sizes as if some one had practised origami with them. The deoderant and the powder lay below some pillow on the bed itself. The bed also showed signs of a cake to have been consumed on it. The shoes, slippers, all across the floor, with stinking socks in them.

The kitchen was worse. It looked as if a havoc had occurred last night. And the heap of unclean dishes looked like as if 50 people had dined at a time. The water jug's cover had burning signs of a candle. The cooking oil's container was wide open. The dustbin was full, and filthy. The oven was coated with oil and other curries. The tea pot was black with the hue of the remaining tea. A tea cup was also discovered in the bathroom.

And the bathroom was not an exception, too. The buckets were all filled with lathered water. And the mugs submerged in them. The soaps were lying on the floor of the bathroom.

Seeing everything, she did not know where to start from, and what to start with. She was seething with anger. She had been away just for a night, and she could not even imagine how could one possibly turn a house into no less than a dustbin, that too in such a short time.

Load shedding being a frequent problem in her area, she picked up the water bottles and filled them up quickly. And also refilled the buckets with fresh water. And that was the only two tasks that she did.

She took the chair to their roof terrace. Sat with her mobile phone and called up her husband. She just screamed on the top of her voice, "What the hell have you done to the house? What are these all about? How could you just do it? You arrive here, and then just see what happens to you tonight!"

With that she quietly tuned into the FM. Several thoughts of vengeance crossed her mind. She started planning. She swore to herself that she was never going to forgive him, and going to teach him a proper lesson tonight, so that he does not forget throughout his life. After all enough was enough. She had bore enough of all these, and she could not tolerate this any more.

By each passing moment waiting for him to arrive, her anger was increasing even more.

Her forehead had started paining by now. She could feel her pressure already soaring high. Screaming would only make it worse, she thought to herself. No she will not shout at him tonight - she decided that she will be in fact as soft as possible.

It was then she saw him from the roof terrace, hurrying up in a brisk pace towards their house.

She went to the gate, and stood there, beforehand.

He was shocked to see her already standing at the gate. Already she had scared the life out of him on the phone and he was too afraid to knock on the door itself. But even then, he did not expect her to be standing at the gate beforehand.
Why does not she understand, that he does not feel like tidying things up, once she is not at home, he mused to himself.
He was expecting her to shout at the top of her voice like she does, when every time she gets angry. He had also brought her sweets to please her. But to offer her seemed so formidable to him now.

She smiled, a warm and sweet one. He was like more awestruck, not knowing what was following next. She took the sweets from him, had some and offered him some, with the utmost gentleness. He was now baffled more than ever. What was she up to ? An unknown fear crept inside him. It would have been thousand times better if she had screamed and gave away her anger. But this ultra gentle attitude, it did not gave him any peace of mind. On the contrary, it increased his unrest.

She took him by hand to which he trembled a bit, first to the shoe rack and said in the sweetest of all voices, "Darling, do you know what is this called? Its called a shoe rack, people put their shoes in this rack once they take off from their feet."
She then started taking him to all the rooms, and introducing the amenities and their usefulness to him as if to a 3 year old babe. He was like a statue, not uttering anything, until she asked him "Now that you are acquainted with all the features of the house, would you mind if you put all the stuff back to their places and tidy the rooms back?"

Of course he did not mind. It was such a relief for him, and as if he was long waiting for this punishment.

The Morning's Episode

It was just so like him, banging on the door of the bathroom and yelling her to "Hurry Up", just when she was inside the bathroom.

She closed the tap, stood akimbo in the bathroom itself and yelled back, "What is the matter with you?If you are in so much of hurry to reach office, then you could have taken the bath first. Why are you banging now ? Donot ask me to hurry up like that. Do not you know that one cannot take her bath properly if anyone continuously bangs on the door like that." She was very angry on him suddenly.

There was silence on the other side. After a pause of one minute, he was heard again, this time more softly though, "Well then, but please do hurry up." He had a touch of guilt in his voice.

She did not say anything. Actually she was shampooing her hair. She knew that he was late for his office, but she could not compromise that with her hair's well being.

She did not take long though, despite her shampooing. As she came out, her hair wrapped in the towel, she immediately went to their bedroom, only to find her husband sitting cozily with a pillow on his lap, and reading the morning newspaper, with no signs of hurry in him.

She said quite audibly now, "Hey, what are you waiting for? Cannot you go and have your bath now?"

He did not react even a bit. He was not even angry. Instead, without looking up from the newspaper, he said "Well, what do these two words mean ? g-r-a-b and f-r-o-l-i-c?"

She was now preparing her breakfast, a glass of wheat milk. Once hearing him to ask such questions at such a odd time, she threateningly retorted back, "Would you go or not?".

He was cool and did not budge even a bit from his original position. He answered back, "Not until you tell me the meanings.". That was one of his innate childish nature.

Well, it was not her nature to fiddle with matters, she let him have his answers. Hearing which, he immediately got up to take his bath. Though before he was done, he had to ask for the towel. She handed him the old one, since the new one was wrapped around her hair and was wet. He cried back, "The new one ....., that one smells awful ...".

She was by now ready for the office. They were late today. They have one bathroom and their office time is same. So the bathroom becomes a daily issue in the mornings. But it was a bandh day, so they could afford to be a little bit late.

Though it was a bandh, but they did not have much problem to reach their respective offices. It was in the same sector.

They did not talk on the entire road. Except when the bus conductor had asked for their tickets, and he did not have the change. So he had to ask her to buy the tickets.

------------

Later on, after lunch, she was having another of those post lunch conversations, downstairs with her female colleagues. She was just telling them of what went on in the morning at her home. Her colleagues were so amused to hear her story and the entire episode felt so of much fun to tell them that her anger for him simply melted away. She now enjoyed every moment of her morning's episode with him.

And, at the end her story, they all had a hearty laugh over it.

Our Grand Pa

Our Grandpa had arrived from Bangladesh. He was going to stay for a month or so with us. My brother and me were not that familiar with him. Having spent most of our years in Iran, with mom and dad, we were not much close with our grand pa or any of our relatives, whom so ever. We were infact too little, too immature to understand the significance of relatives, how ever close they might be. Infact, till today I get confused as to who should my cousin and who should my niece.

My brother and me, we both had our annual exams knocking on our door. I was in class VIII and my brother in VI. He used to be such a small, little, sweet fellow then. Quite shy and introvert of a boy, but yet he used to be very rude and head strong at times, which he maintains till today. We had a daily routine of going to school together, sharing the same umbrella throughout the season. (I personally still cherish those days of innocence.)

Our Grandpa was a peculiar sort of a person. He used to talk a lot, resembled my father in his looks, and ate a lot, too. I remember how my mother had to toil hard in the kitchen throughout the day just to keep him content with his meals. He had thick eye brows which drooped over his eyes, sparse hair on his head, his cheek bones were protruding, his teeth all red due to years of chewing betel leaf, his lips were wrinkled and with a dark brown complexion, he almost ended up looking like a real life devil.

Before all my exams, be it my terminal or my annual ones, I always had a dream. I dreamt that I had come first in my class, I was standing on top of everyone, and everyone is applauding for me, even my dearest of rivals. It felt so proud of a moment and I used to wake up with full of expectations. But as the results would come out, my same old dear rivals would surpass me in marks. It had almost become a habit of the same dream happening to me. But, this time, some how, the age-old dream did not occur to me.

My brother and me were not much comfortable in talking with our Grandpa. We were seeing him consciously for the first time, after our birth. We did not possess any past memory of him. He seemed to be a stranger living with us. We were young kids and did not have the opportunity to grow any attachment for him. We sort of respected him from a distance, and listened to him at times. He on the other hand, was quite fond of us. And he loved talking to us. He expected us to be around him and also respect him and listen to him.

Our exam day had arrived. My brother and me, we got ready to leave for school. My mom came to the doorstep and whispered in our ears, to touch our Grandpa’s feet in marks of asking his blessings for the exam. It did not convey anything to us. We were not much acquainted with such customs as we had a very aloof kind of childhood. However, we did not mind doing that as we had nothing to loose, and both of us respectfully touched his feet.

He was immensely pleased. We could see from his gleaming eyes and ready feet put together, that he expected us to do so. He touched his string of rudraksha beads around his neck and put his palm on each of our head. Slowly we could hear him utter ‘I bless you both. And I have the God’s knowledge. This time both of you will come first in the class.’

It was of course very much absurd. How could he possibly have God’s knowledge? And God? Some one who is so remote! Has any one actually seen him? Can anyone tell me? We had many questions on our way to our school. And none of them were satisfactorily answered. No wonder he was a bit unhinged and out of his mind. Might be the old age has taken a toll on him, we concluded.

After our exams were over, it was summer vacation. And we were as free as birds are from their cage. Our Grandpa, by this time had to leave for his native land. We did not miss him much. He seemed to be very disturbed though, when he was leaving.

Today of course, I understand to some extent, as how it must have felt for him to leave his son and his grandchildren behind and go back to his native land, a different country altogether where he cannot visit us when ever he chooses. Infact its pathetic, and to think of it makes me now helpless.

The results were out at the end of our summer vacation. To our utter surprise and joy, my brother and me - we had both come first in our respective classes. It was incredible. My dream had come true. All of our school teachers and every body else were full of praise for both of us.

It was a strange coincidence, though. For us to believe that our Grandpa had fore told our results, was too hard. But, the coincidence itself was also too much to ignore. That day, was he just uttering mere words? Or did he really have some God sent power and knew that our results would be so?

The real answer - We will never know. And that was the first and the last time, when my brother and me had both come first.

Our Grandpa- He is still alive today. Not much in health. All of his teeth have fallen off and he cannot eat anything but drink liquid food. He has become feeble and cannot leave his bed on his own. He has become stranger in his behaviour and people say that most of the times he mutters to himself now. My brother and me had last seen him 4 years back when we visited Bangladesh with mom and dad. And recently, my dad had given him a visit on the upcoming occasion of my wedding ceremony. And he had duly sought blessings from Grandpa for me.

And I just hope from the core of my heart, that this time too, his blessings may bear the same result as that of our annual exams that time.

My ma

That is me, my mom and my brother.

When my dad went to Iran, I was just 3 years old, and my baby brother a 3 month old infant. After his 6 months of his stay there, my dad could send a visa for all of us. And thus, we all got prepared to visit him.

My ma, she was a young beautiful girl of 26, right from the heart of a village in Bangladesh. A village where the mode of communication was only boats and boats; Where most of the people walked bare footed, had no separate bathrooms, washed themselves in rivers,shitted in the same rivers and cooked their rice with the same water; Where it used to be stark dark after the sun set, with the water gurgling around and the crickets humming. Coming from a village like this, my mom was enough lucky to have parents who encouraged her to go to the capital city Dhaka and study. But however, sher could not complete her graduation since she got married to my dad - a handsome medical student, then in his final years.

Now, this girl from this stark and dark village, with an infant in her arms and another 3 yr old holding her other hand, was getting ready to visit her husband. All by herself. And not by her so familar boat. But on an aeroplane. That too which had stoppage in between. And, she could not speak english. JUST IMAGINE!!!

But she could do it.

She took my brother in her arms, and me in her other hand, and with her small two piece of baggage, and went to the airport. She showed the tickets and entered the airport. But, everyhthing was not that smooth. Some aiport crew in between the proceedings, stopped her. They refused to hand over her passport back. They were giving her some filthy looks. Their language was abusive. And they demanded her to go back because her passport was not legal.

But she did not move from the place. I am sure she was fighting back her tears out of her helplessness. But, she too demanded back the reason. She could not speak proper English. She could just make them understand that she wanted to know the reason, or else she will go to other persons in the airport. And, at last, those rogues, could see that, this girl could not be overpowered, though she looked vulnerable, with two small kids and no male guardian.

So, we landed in Iran. We had a stoppage at Karachi in between, I suppose.

And then at Tehran airport - I could see my dad waiting anxiously for us. He was looking eagerly at us from behind the glass panes of the airport. I still remember the scene. It was midnight.

My ma must have then again hidden her tears of joy to have met with dad after so many days ... and that too the way she did.

HATS OFF TO HER - my ma.