This is a blog post from
Jan 14
Dear Diary,
I have a secret!
BIG SECRET!
Secret-that-will-be-so-tough-to-keep-to-myself-but-I-must secret.
Mother-Promise that you won’t tell anyone?
ANYONE.
Not even your mother, ok?
So.
Poonguzhali Akka had invited me home for high tea. Just me. No Shanky. When he insisted on coming, she said that it was ladies only. So special it feels to be called a lady. So, I wore my favourite red dress — the one with the white flowers. The one that, according to Poo, looks quite English. Plus my fancy shoes. Straw hat also. But Amma said the hat was a bit much, so I took it off. Oooo my lady bag too. The one Athai got from Singapore.
Poonguzhali Akka had laid out the table with her fancy china. So cool it looked — bright white with purple sheep.
Menu For High Tea:
Hibiscus tea: not my thing.
Akka says it’s an acquired taste. I don’t think I want to acquire this taste. So, Akka made Magic Milo. Two teaspoons Milo with half glass milk, three tablespoons milkmaid and four ice cubes. AND some Milo sprinkled on top. Full on Magic only. Now THIS is one taste that everyone should acquire. Especially Amma. All this ‘No junk food Nila. You will get pimples’ nonsense is so annoying.
Lemon tarts: yumm to the power infinity.
From Shanti Bakery. They just introduced it in their menu. It’s THE BEST DESSERT in the whole Milky Way. After rosogullas, of course.
Paneer puffs: meh.
Veg puffs are better but these ones aren’t too bad.
Rusky Delight: bites of heaven.
This is Poonguzhali Akka’s special recipe. Spread tomato ketchup on rusk. Grate cheese onto it. And garnish with aloo bhujiya. So simple. So sumptuous.
I asked her why it was called high tea. She said it was because in the good old days almost all meals were taken at the dining table except this. The British ladies would sit on high stools wearing high heels and clink their tea cups and say ‘Hai Hai’. Hence the name. Sounds like one more of Akka’s cooked-up stories, but pretty kickass. Must spread at school.
So. We were talking about childhood stuff. She said that she studied at a convent school in Assam and that Varun Anna went to Delhi Public School in Bombay and that they met in Pune during college.
When she saw my confused open-mouth face, she mock-blushed and started laughing like a hyena.
YEAH!
They are not siblings. Stupid me to have made such an assumption. They look so different I should have guessed.
Anyhow, I asked her why she wasn’t wearing a mangalsutra or wedding ring so people like me wouldn’t get confused.
She laughed once again, this time like a rabbit, and said they were just living together. Marriage was not on the cards yet (whatever that means!). It seems both their parents are perfectly cool with it, though Varun Anna’s parents fussed a bit in the beginning.
They had a lot of trouble finding a house on rent. Luckily, Poonguzhali Akka’s family friend had a house in our apartment. That woman is also a Philosophy Professor it seems so she doesn’t bother Akka and Anna much. I asked how Philosophy had anything to do with this. She laughed again (hyena types).
It seems both Akka and Anna don’t believe in marriage. “It’s just a social construct, Nila,” were her exact words.
When I asked her about having babies, she just rabbit-laughed and said that you don’t need a mangalsutra to make babies.
Full confusion. Until now, I thought that babies are made when the husband and wife pray to god and then god puts a baby in the mother’s tummy. Poo said that when two people kiss, babies are made. Sandy says there is a locker in every bank with babies in it and when a couple commits a crime, they are sent to the bank and given a baby as punishment. Rads keeps telling him that his parents must have been serial killers to get such a horrible child like him.
That’s not the point. The point is — sex. That’s how babies are made.
But before Poonguzhali Akka could explain what sex is, Amma came knocking on the door. We had a dentist appointment. Thank God we had finished high tea by then. Otherwise major drama would have happened — Magic Milo, lemon tart, and rusky delight are definitely not a dentist’s delight.
On the way to the doctor, I asked Amma where babies come from. She squiggled and squirmed like an earthworm. Luckily for her, the phone rang. Gah! Phones have a way of ringing when you least want them to.
So.
Conclusion.
Babies don’t come from kissing. Or from God putting them in the mummy’s tummy. Or from a bank locker.
+ Sex. Doesn’t just mean gender.
+ There is nothing wrong in living with your lover before marriage. Marriage is just a social construct (will explain once Akka explains).
+ Tomorrow again high tea is happening. She asked me to bring Shanky along. I’m in half a mind to fake-forget. But it’s ok. He suffered one day. That’s enough.
Yours anticipatingly,
Nila
