Too much of a good thing?
Dear readers, here is a short story I wrote some time ago. Hope you like it!
“I can’t wait to go to Mumbai!’ he cried, jumping up and down around his mother, who didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm. But of course, he didn’t let that bother him. He was too excited to care.
“Stop irritating me, Rama.” His mother was busy in the kitchen, her fingers expertly kneading the dough for the hot rotis (Indian bread) they were to have in a while. He plopped himself onto the platform, beside the dough bowl, desperate to get her attention.
“Do you know what I plan to do there?”, he asked, holding his mother’s face in his tiny hands, forcing her to look at him.
“I don’t know , Rama. I just hope you don’t trouble your sister too much.”
“Why do u keep saying that? Have i ever troubled you?”, he asked, putting on the best smile he could. His mother rolled her eyes.They both started laughing.
He loved his mother for that. He could trust her to make light of his naughtiness. Not that she never scolded him, but he knew she accepted him for what he was – a bundle of unrestrained energy.
She pulled her face away from him and got busy again. But he wasn’t done.“I will make my trademark cookies filled with a gooey centre, just the way she likes it. She will be so happy!”
His mother couldn’t help but smile. He had always been interested in cooking. Her mind drifted away to his infant days when he would climb onto kitchen shelves and pull out ingredients, wanting to help her. He was a big boy now, studying in class eight. Yet he retained his cherubic innocence. She sighed. She knew he loved his sister’s company and would do anything to make her happy.
“Of course. I am sure your sister would love that.Just don’t leave the kitchen messy. Your aunt won’t like it.”
“I know that ma.”
This was his first trip to Mumbai to meet his cousin, his 20 year old sister. Theirs was a special relationship. She was the only one in his family who seemed to understand him, laugh at all his crazy jokes and play with him for as long as he wanted. More importantly, she always helped with his holiday homework.
“Should I gift her something? What do you think?”, his mind was racing with ideas.
“Oh please shut up, Ram. Stop troubling mom. Let her cook. There’s still a day left to go. Calm down”. Rama never understood his brother. How he managed to keep calm even in such situations. He was accompanying him to Mumbai too and yet he was busy working on his laptop. He was obviously older.
But so was his sister. ‘Maybe she is just nice’, he thought. “How much longer for dinner mom?” He was getting restless now. That always happened when he was hungry.
“Why don’t you go outside and play for sometime? I will call you when dinner’s ready.”
His mom was the best. He left hurriedly, his sandals half worn, his mind still preoccupied with dreams of tomorrow.
He came back in an hour, huffing and puffing, his face red with all the the exertion. He was dead tired. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he flopped on the bed in his room. He didn’t even acknowledge his father who had just come back from office.
‘I shouldn’t have played so much”, he thought.
‘Rama, dinner is ready! Where are you?” He could barely hear his mother’s calls. Sleep seemed blissful right now.
“Hey, are you alright?” He could faintly feel his brother’s tap on his shoulder as he came to wake him up.
“100 degrees, for sure.”
“Maybe he got too excited”.
Voices floated in his tired mind as it succumbed to the lure of a deep slumber.
Posted on September 8, 2016, in fiction, Uncategorized and tagged anecdote, apurva, Cooking, fiction, funny, humour, Indian, mumbai, prose, short story, story, sweet. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.