I walked around the kitchen in fast paced steps, ‘Ammi, how much longerrr?’ ‘Almost done!’ she said while moving the ladle around the kadhai. Then she quickly picked up a big bowl and I squealed and went to stand closer to her. She carefully took out ladle after ladle full of the halwa and poured it into the bowl with one hand holding the kadhai in place. She put the bowl down when it was full, then added a little bit more after some consideration.
I grabbed a spoon but she shook her head, ‘Go and give this to Lata chachi next door.’
‘But ammi, I’ve been waiting for so long.’ She chuckled and gave me an almond, ‘You eat this until you give the bowl then you come back and I’ll keep your bowl ready. Sanjay loves gajar ka halwa, he’ll be so happy.’
I pouted and stomped my feet while walking out of the house. Then I quickly ran over and shouted, ‘Lata chachi! Lata chachi!’
Priya didi opened the door and I ran right past her, she hit my head lightly and called out, ‘Don’t fall down, Sameer.’ I saw Lata chachi sitting in the verandah with Sanjay next to her reading out the Hindi alphabet.
He immediately got up when he saw me enter, ‘Gajar ka halwa?’ he asked with a spark in his eyes. I nodded excitedly and grinned, our love for this sweet dish was mutual and beyond anything else.
‘Come here.’ Chachi held out her hand and I went and sat in her lap. She took the wooden bowl from my hands and kept the plate covering it aside.
‘Sanjay, go bring a spoon.’ she said. Sanjay was already halfway to the kitchen.
Chachi and I laughed slightly watching as Sanjay almost fell on his way back. She took a spoonful of halwa and raised it to my face. ‘But chachi, ammi told- ‘
‘I know what your ammi told, this is for Sanjay na? Don’t worry, he’ll also get to eat it.’ she blew softly on the halwa before letting me take a bite. Sanjay came to stand next to us and I hopped down from her lap. She fed it to both of us one by one and we kept staring at the spoon go left and right.
Priya didi came and sat behind chachi. ‘See how they stare after the halwa in sync like eagles.’
Chachi smiled.
‘Ek se hi toh hain. (They seem the same only.)’
That’s how the year passed by. Chachi made kachori and Sanjay ran over to our house, ammi made jalebi and I ran over to theirs, chachi made samose and Sanjay came running back. Ammi fed Sanjay first and chachi fed me before him always. It became a tradition and we both already knew when to get a spoon and when to get a plate, our feet taking us to the kitchen before our mothers could ask us to go. Whenever somebody else would be around to watch the exchange, our mothers would say – ‘Ek se hi toh hain.’
But we didn’t get to live for too long in Amritsar. Abbu said that the angrez drew a line that we had to follow. I knew that he didn’t want to go, I heard abbu crying to ammi that night. I couldn’t even say any goodbyes because of how quickly we left. Our things were still left in our home. Ammi told chachi will take care of it. I felt better because I knew she would never let Sanjay play with toys that belonged to me.
Abbu put me in a covered box telling me to keep quiet when we heard shouts on the way to Lahore. He told me to shut my eyes and pray to Allah for our welfare. Allah listens to prayers of little kids, ammi had taught me all these years. But she had lied. I did nothing but pray for a very long time. When abbu opened up the box, he was alone. ‘Ammi?’ I asked but he just picked me up and started running in some unknown direction.
When we reached Lahore, I asked abbu when ammi would come back. ‘They stole her.’ he said, his eyes blank and his tone cold.
‘Who?’
Nothing.
I blamed it on the angrez. They made this stupid line and that’s why we had to travel and that’s why ammi got stolen. I cried for some days then hoped chachi had somehow found ammi and kept her safe, just like my toys.
Twenty five years passed by. I never got married, just took care of abbu and the shop he had opened.
I had never been able to make a life in Lahore, it felt foreign. Like a relative’s house you go to visit in the summers. People around you seem known but still feel so distant. When I asked abbu how Amritsar was different from Lahore, hoping to find some clarity on the indifference I
felt towards this city,
‘Ek se hi toh hain.’ he said.
When abbu died, I decided to look for chachi. I had nothing else to do in life. It was a feeling I couldn’t shake off. I had to go meet them. So I looked for them everywhere and found out they were now living in a place near Dilli.
My hand remained hanging mid air for some seconds, then I took a deep breath and decided to knock. A woman opened the door, her eyes scanned my face as if trying to put together who I am. ‘ Does chachi- uh.. Does Lata chachi live here?’ My tone was timid, almost as if I was four again – caught stealing sweets from the plate before pooja kept in chachi’s home.
‘Yes, she lives here. Who should I say it is?’
‘Sameer.’
I walked in behind her, watching my steps and trying not to feel like an intruder. She called out loudly, ‘Amma! Someone is here to see you.’ Then she told me to sit and went further in. I sat down at the edge of a chair, my feet tapped loudly but I couldn’t stop them. I wanted to roam around the house and look for her myself. I couldn’t wait. I wanted to know if she even remem-
‘Sameer?’ Chachi looked older now. I also noticed the off-white saree and the absence of her tiny maroon bindi. But her face lit up and her cheeks crinkled delicately. ‘Come here.’ she raised her arms and I didn’t need to be told twice. I touched her feet and hugged her. ‘Jeetey raho. (Live long.)’ she mumbled while holding me and pulling me up.
We both sat down and talked. She told me about chacha’s death in an accident three years ago. I told her about ammi and abbu. She cried thinking of that night, but didn’t say anything else about it. Then she introduced me to bhabhi, who stood by the curtain and just listened to us talk all this time.
‘Go call Sanjay and make tea.’ Chachi said.
Bhabhi walked in a while later with two serving trays in hand. One held three cups of tea and snacks, another held one. I felt a tightness in my chest. I was an outsider in their home as well as their homeland, for a second I had felt like this was Amritsar. Then I realised it wasn’t a place but the feeling of being at peace. Something I hadn’t felt ever since we migrated to Pakistan. ‘Tea.’ she announced while placing the trays as further apart as the table would allow, but also trying to be subtle about it and not wanting to make it look obvious.
‘Bhabhi, what was the need for all this.’ I chuckled awkwardly, ‘Who is the fourth cup for?’
‘Sanjay will be home any minute now.’ Bhabhi had just finished her sentence when the door opened and Sanjay walked in from behind us.
I turned around as slow as a turtle, as if waiting for him to not even know who I am. But when I caught his moderately tear-filled gaze, I laughed at my own self. We hugged and just stood there hugging for an eternity. The moderately tear-filled – had now become a rainfall. We cried and let out a few silent sobs for the childhood that could have been and the year that got stole away. When we both came to sit down, chachi picked up a cup of tea and held it out.
‘But maa, that’s for Sanjay.’
Chachi smiled then blew softly at the tea before raising it. I slowly held it in both my hands, almost unsure that it would fall and break if I didn’t hold it tight enough or if chachi left it too soon.
‘Ek se hi toh hain.’
I watched the strange looking house transform into Amritsar again.
-Article By Vageesha Mishra, 3rd year Department of Chemical Engineering