Short Story Family – God bless America
Photo credit: kconnors from morguefile.com
“India is a dirty, dirty place”
My Chachu, newly exposed to the ‘clean’ ways of America was getting quite annoying. Walking around in narrow streets looking for an auto rickshaw with him in ‘dirty’ India was torture.
“Why don’t you get done with college and move there. You behave like a firang anyway, you’ll fit right in.”
Yes, because I speak English? Or because I listen to The Beatles, hmm?
“AUTO!”
A few weeks later. Phone ring.
“I’m getting married.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Her name is Sonya (Sonia). She’s brilliant. You’ll love her.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“A week from now.”
“When was this decided?”
“A week ago.”
This is one of those things I expected to see in a soap opera. A betrayed relative (me). A NRI, accented vamp getting married to one of my favourite people (Sonya and Chachu respectively).
Without asking. Or telling.
“Bye” Click. Drop. Sigh.
Then later. Dial tone.
“I won’t be able to attend your wedding. I have some stuff to do that can’t wait.”
I did. Honest to God.
“Bye” Click. Drop. Sigh.
A wedding, a baby and a new life later.
Enter Mother. Tears.
“Dadaji just passed away”
An old, bipolar/depression plagued, failed liver sweetheart of a man. His watermelon tummy which disappeared with every trip to the hospital. Stories of All India Radio and India way back when. Gone.
Funeral House. Chachu, completely Americanized now, crying.
“He was a good man.”
“Yes.”
Hug. Weep.
“I missed you.”
“And I, you.”
“India is still dirty though.”
__END__
