"Huh, what?" Chandri's cheek was partly plastered with the chickpea flour she was using to make the fritter batter. Surangi knew that Chandri had been distracted for the better part of the afternoon but she did not question her about it even if her curiosity was aroused. She had never seen Chandri brood over anything and mentioning it meant drawing Vidya's attention. But Surangi could not help but intervene when she saw that Chandri was about to season the batter a second time over.
"You've already added salt to that batter!" Surangi whispered and Chandri snapped out of her trance-like state.
"Oh!" Chandri said, replacing the jar of salt on the kitchen shelf.
"Is everything fine with you?" Surangi asked. Just then Vidya returned to the kitchen.
"Surangi, please keep an eye on Gaju. Chandri and I should manage here." Vidya took over as Surangi left the room to be with the feisty little toddler. Madhav had gone out with Shivu. They were supposed to buy some provision for the kitchen and would return in a while.
"Gaju, don't put that in your mouth! It is not a real banana!" Surangi cautioned Gaju when he was about to bite into the lacquered toy. Before he could wail in protest Surangi picked him up and stood by the window, trying to divert his attention with the sights and sounds of the street below. Surangi loved looking after him after him. She had never been this close to a young child before Gaju's birth. She was eagerly looking forward to Sharayu's new baby whose arrival would coincide with the advent of the monsoon.
A movement on the street excited Gaju and he pointed out to someone walking in their direction. Surangi saw that it was Madhav, accompanied by Shivram. Both the boys had bags of groceries in their arms and Madhav waved out to Gaju who grinned happily. Madhav and Shivram walked in through the open door and Chandri came out of the kitchen to pick up the bags.
"Chandri, get them some cool water from the earthen pot." Vidya said as she took stock of the purchases. Chandri emerged in a few moments bearing two metal tumblers of water and vanished as soon as she had served them.
"What is wrong with this girl? She could talk nineteen to the dozen as far as I remember!" Shivram observed casually.
"She is busy making vegetable fritters. Shivram, why don't you stay back and have lunch with us?" Vidya asked.
"Oh no, Gajra will be upset if I don't finish her meal tiffin. Doctor Saheb is going for a meeting at 6.30 pm so I have the evening off. I can take Madhav bhau and the girls to town if they want to go." Shivram was about to step out of the door when Vidya emerged with a plate of some brinjal and potato fritters. She offered these to Shivram.
"These were made by Chandri! Taste them!" Vidya left Shivu no choice.
"They are piping hot! Chandrey, I must say your cooking has improved much. Well, not as good as Gajra's but you will get there someday!" Shivram laughed at his own words. He was finishing the last fritter when he was startled by the sound of a metal container dropping to the floor. Vidya went into the kitchen to investigate.
"Bhau, when the vessels in the kitchen speak louder than the person handling them there is surely trouble brewing. I will take your leave now, see you around 4 pm!" Shivram told Madhav as he beat a hasty retreat.
The reason behind Chandri's passive aggression became apparent to Surangi and Madhav. Gajra, a young widow of a gunner who died while serving in the British army, ran an affordable mess closeby. Many boys and men from the neighbourhood who lived away from their families while they worked in the city were her customers and Shivram was one among them. The thought of Shivram being captivated by another woman's cooking was impossible for Chandri to bear. But she could not sulk openly without Vidya noticing it.
Shivram arrived promptly at 4 pm and led the eager bunch to the tram stop. Surangi was visibly excited. A tram trip to town was another urban adventure she was looking forward to. A tram was a source of intrigue to her, it was a bus that ran on a train track and was a popular means of transport for the common man of Bombay. But their ride was rather short as Shivram announced that they were getting off at Bhuleshwar.
He first took them to visit the 17th century Mumbadevi temple after whom the city had taken its Marathi name Mumbai. The patron goddess was originally worshipped by the Agris and Kolis, the original inhabitants of the city who were employed as cultivators, salt pan workers and fisherfolk respectively.
Shivram then led them into the bylanes that served as a shopper's paradise for women. There were rows of stores selling sarees, brocade and embroidered fabrics for dresses, trinkets and cosmetics that screamed out to be a part of a woman's vanity box. There were silversmiths hawking cheap anklets with bells that chimed as one walked and filigreed toe rings that adorned the feet of married women. Goldsmiths could be seen tempting their customers to buy both traditional pearl jewellery as well as modern designs that were made fashionable by the many actresses who sported them on celluloid screens in the silent movies of the era.
As Surangi and Chandri hovered around a cosmetics seller's store Chandri seemed to have made up her mind about buying a rather expensive face cream poetically labelled snow. It promised to make the wearer many shades fairer than their natural complexion.
"Here, we will take two jars of the cream! Now ladies, can we move ahead? There are other things to be done too!" Madhav said impatiently, shelling out the money for the girls' shopping.
"Bhau, you don't have to pay for my things!" Chandri was embarrassed at his generous gesture.
"I will get your future husband to pay me back every penny!" Madhav laughed as the girls followed the boys back to the tram stop. Madhav knew what had prompted Chandri's sudden concern for her vanity needs. Gajra was fair of face and cooked reasonably well. Chandri was now trying to invent her own ways to compete with her because she had assumed that Shivram was under the woman's spell. Madhav wondered why a girl's self esteem was tied so much to her physical appearance or at least to other's perception of it. Centuries old prejudice had cemented the belief that fair was beautiful. It did not help that through history India had been invaded by race after race of relatively fair-skinned people. The British, who were the most recent of the alien rulers, did not help matters either, what with barely any melanin scattered over their skins. It was typical to see Indian brides with a paler complexion picked by the most eligible grooms while there were not many takers for the dusky ones unless a substantial dowry was paid to compensate.
Another tram ride took them to Crawford market, the most famous market in South Bombay. They rambled along the shops that were teeming with wholesale produce, spices, eggs and poultry, imported condiments and fabrics. They did not buy much there and soon left the market premises and crossed the street to enter a famous shop renowned for cold drinks. Shivram ordered for them and Surangi waited eagerly for the famous concoction that she had heard so much about. Sure enough, the bearer showed up with his tray laden with the city's most famous sweetened milk beverage called falooda.
"Stir in the syrup before you taste it!" Madhav advised. As she swilled the spoon around the base the bright reddish pink rose syrup merged into the chilled milk and left behind different hues in the glass, starting from the darkest at the bottom to the subtlest on top. The hundreds of little gelatinous globules floating in the drink were actually sabja, the seeds of sweet basil. These were coupled with corn starch vermicelli and the confection was topped with a generous scoop of delicious tasting ice cream.
Shivram narrated the history of the drink as well as that of the famous store but Surangi barely paid any attention. She was too lost in the heavenly taste although it was tad too sweet. She was thrilled with the experience of each slurp of the straw filling her mouth with the fragrant creamy rose milk and the chewy vermicelli.
"Would you like another falooda?" Shivram asked, amused to see her enjoying the treat.
"That won't be necessary. She is not used to sipping anything so cold, we don't want her falling ill! And Surangi, make sure you gargle with warm salted water when you get home!" Madhav asserted.
On their ride homeward Surangi stole glances at other couples who were sitting next to each other. She shared her seat with Chandri while Madhav and Shivram occupied seats directly behind them. She longed to sit next to Madhav, but then she could not imagine a bruised Chandri sitting next to Shivram who did not have a clue of what she was so bristled about. Surangi was barely aware that Chandri was nursing similar thoughts in her mind. She stared wistfully at European couples who rode in the backseats of personal car, being ferried around town by their local brown-skinned drivers.
To Chandri those women were the equivalent of celestial nymphs, with their light skins, sapphire blue eyes and their blond hair concealed underneath their fashionable hats. The Gods had been equally generous to rich Parsi women who often sported European attire and had lifestyles similar to those of the imperial rulers of India. Even Surangi looked many shades paler, Chandri told herself. Some girls were born lucky, she thought. The very next moment she chastised herself. Surangi was just nine and had lost both her parents. On the other hand Chandri's own were very much around. Let me try and be as positive and as happy as her, she reminded herself. Let the Gods worry about sorting our lives out!