Juggler par Excellence
This is the third independent chapter in the Circus Family’s life. You can read the previous two here.
“My boss is coming for lunch tomorrow.” Sindhu told me excitedly as she came home.
“Who, Achary Sir?” I asked. I had been hearing nothing but Achary Sir did this, Achary Sir did that for the last two months, ever since Achary Sir had taken over as General Manager at her office.
Sindhu was like that. Her work excited her still after thirteen years. I liked hearing about the daily happenings in her office and offering unhelpful suggestions.
“You know I am due for a promotion. My record has been good, but Achary Sir’s word would go a long way.”
I agreed to this wisdom. After all, I knew all about how management works.
“Renu and Remya will have to be on their best behaviour. This really means a lot to me.”
I had my doubts about Renu and Remya’s best behaviour. They were sweet kids but a little too exuberant at times. When my colleague had visited, the two house imps along with one visiting imp had managed to turn a simple game of hide and seek into one involving fist fights and arm wrestling. Luckily, Mr. Achary’s family was not in town.
Sunday dawned bright and clear. Sindhu had woken up earlier than usual and was already cutting vegetables when I woke up. I offered my expert services, but was firmly turned down. Somewhat miffed, I proceeded with my usual Sunday routine.
By the time I had returned from the temple, steaming hot idli and sambar was waiting on the table. Aha! Sindhu was killing two birds with one stone or rather, two meals with one dish of sambar!
By mid-morning, all varieties of smells were emanating from the kitchen - coconut milk payasam with Maggi coconut milk powder, aviyal, cabbage thoran, mambazha pulisseri, and most irresistible to me, fried pappadam. Hmm, pappadam was the last step. I followed the smell to the kitchen. Sindhu smiled at me indulgently; as always, she had already kept aside a couple of pappadam for me.
I gave a cursory examination of all the delicacies, nodded my approval and convinced her that the sweetness of the payasam was just perfect. Not that she needed much convincing – my Sindhu was a good cook and she knew it.
Renu and Remya had been despatched to the neighbour’s place. Now they were back, at the kitchen, drawn in by the aroma of payasam. But Sindhu was up to the task. She simply removed the bulk of the payasam to another vessel, gave wooden spoons to both of them and placed the big payasam uruli between them at a corner of the work area. Renu and Remya sat down happily, scrapping at ‘their’ sides of the uruli for the precious adi churandiyathe, the portion of the payasam that had stuck to the bottom and sides of the vessel.
Sindhu reminded them, “Now you know what to do when Achary Sir comes.”
“Yes, Amma, after we say Hello to him, we go up and play. “
“Right, and try not to make too much noise.”
“No fights.” I added with a straight face.
With the payasam scrapings in their mouths, they were willing to agree to anything, and nodded without a second thought.
Soon Achary Sir came. It was all going according to plan, Sindhu’s plan. Soon the three of us were exchanging pleasantries in a tidy living room (the excesses having simply been dumped in the bedroom). The children had gone upstairs like little angels.
Lunch was a grand success, with the payasam being pronounced ‘delicious’. Sindhu was grinning away as if the promotion was already hers.
Achary Sir seemed quite willing to sit and talk. I was also pleased as Achary Sir came across as a fine gentleman. I enjoyed the conversation, peppered with humourous narratives. My siesta could wait, I thought.
Renu and Remya had gone up again after lunch. For about twenty minutes, everything went fine. Then I started to hear giggles. Now our house had grown with the family, with rooms being added periodically, when finance was sound. The most recent addition was a room above the car shed by covering up the balconey. This meant that the drawing room ventilator opened out into the new room. We had temporarily closed it up with a cardboard, meaning to cover it permanently, soon. The soon had never come.
Now the little devils had removed the cardboard and were peeping in to the drawing room. I pretended not to notice.
The giggles soon increased in volume and small hands were thrust in through the ventilator hole.
“Amma, look.” Remya called out.
Sindhu was embarrassed. Here she was singing the praises of her wonderful daughters’ and they were playing the fool.
I was debating whether to go up and give them a talking to, when Sindhu intervened smartly.
“You could play with the Cibaca animals.”
The Cibaca animals were tiny plastic animal figures which you got with every packet of Cibaca toothpaste. Sindhu had hoarded them, one by precious one, in her own childhood. It was her treasure and she let the kids play with them only occasionally, as special treats. Sindhu would herself give it to them, and count them each time before keeping back.
It was a masterstroke! In a flash, the children had collected the box and had run up again. They were back to being little angels.
The day was thus won by Sindhu, the superwoman – Mother and now Senior Manager! Yes, the promotion was soon hers!
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Hey Usha, that is a smart mom indeed!
I remember the cibaca animals, but it used to be Binaca then, no? it was a brilliant selling tactic.....loved the little, beautifully crafted animals!
loved your tale too, succinct, short and sweet!
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Cibaca toys... that immediately took me on a nostalgic trip. Remember how everytime my mom bought a new cibaca, i'd fervently hope the toy was a new one and not one already in my collection!!
Enjoyable read :-))
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usha
The girls age seems to be jumping back and forth between the chapters. Here they play with cibaca toys but in the previous chapters one of them is a teenager. I am not sure teenagers would play with cibaca....I know the cibaca toys very well used to collect them myself
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