She walked in as Diya and Dodo welcomed her with short barks that turned into squeals and a lot of head-butting. “Arey. Andhar to aane do,” she rolled her brown eyes and admonished them, sounding like a dadima.
Lakshman was Debu kaka’s replacement and Ria was Lakshman’s niece who had come to stay with him for the holidays. Dum aloo posto, keema curry, tomato borta and rice- all of a sudden, I was in the mood for a festive dinner, Ria smiling-approving my hukum.
As Lakshman busied himself in the kitchen, Ria she recited A,B,C, 1,2,3, ka,Kha,ga, when I asked about school and cooked and served me breakfast, lunch, dinner on the glass-topped dining table, her imaginary kitchen.
“Aaj Dhoru ki Shaadhi hai,” she made up a ready-made context, started singing a Bhojpuri ghana, urging Sri to repeat after her in his deep teacherly baritone. He followed that up with tumkhas, hip-butting with her.
After Sri left to work, she sat me down on the maharaja vintage chair Sri and I had picked up from an auction in Kolkata, that was still as shiny as new. “Beena ki shaadi hai,” she announced, rubbing her palms and started braiding my colour-streaked hair like she was my Ma. Later, twinning in pigtails, we side-cheeked and smiled wide for the selfie, showing a lot of teeth.
When Debu returned from his break, I took his help and made Chicken Rezala- an instagram recipe I had wanted to try for a long time. More postos and curry dums and bortas followed. Like two monkeys, Diya and Dodo trailed Ria, jumping up and down with her and catching crispy bits of the Goloroti or bhatura I was feeding Ria like I was her Ma.
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