“You are wrong.”
“I don’t need your advice.”
Sravi and Appu, the ‘monkey’ cousins, were at it, again. Aged 14 and 11 respectively, they met once or twice in a year during the holidays.
“Granny is preparing bajji*.” Sravi’s mother announced.
“Me!” Appu hollered, racing to the kitchen, leaving her design midway. She stuffed her mouth with hot aloo* bajji savoring the taste. Even her mother never managed to replicate the taste.
“How is the rangoli? Done?” Granny asked, adding the chickpea batter coated potatoes to hot oil.
“Nicee.” She mumbled, still chewing her food.
“No, no. It’s gone.” Sravi taunted from the kitchen door. Her smug look enraged Appu. She flew at Sravi ready to pull those dangling pigtails from the skull.
But, Sravi was quicker. She ran around the old house, jumping over the cot on which their grandpa was taking a nap. He woke up with a start only to realize that it was the girls.
“Sravi! Appu!” He called not moving from his place.
“Go and control them,” Granny ordered from the kitchen. It was followed by the laughter of his daughters.
With a sigh, he walked to the veranda to see the girls scribbling on each other’s rangoli designs, hell-bent on ruining the place.
“Who wants to come with me to feed the ducks?” He asked no one in particular.
“Me!”
“Meee!”
He shook his head. “Only if you don’t fight.”
“She started it.” Appu accused.
“No, she did.” Sravi shot back and sighed at the expression on grandpa’s face. “Alright. We’ll be good.”
Appu too had to agree to not fight, at least for the next few hours. They left the house laughing, holding his hands, one on each side. The rangoli was forgotten by the time they were back home.
—————–
Bajji- fritters
Aloo- potato
