Satheeshan
"Kakkanadu Kaakanadu Kaakanadu!", the conductor bellowed, as a KSRTC bus screeched to a halt.
I was wondering why no Ernakulam buses have come this way yet, while sitting next to the rustling posters plastered to the white walls of the Companypadi bus stop.
These posters featured everything from anti-pollution rallies, human chains, and election adverts, with the faces of upcoming candidates in crisp khadar shirts and sarees, requesting me to cast my vote for them.
Let's see...Sarita from Congress....Keshavan from CPI-M...and oh hmm...an independent one...Satheeshan....
“Satheeshaa…” I heard my grandma holler, as I walked into my mom's house in Eloor, excited to spend my summer vacation there.
“Who's Satheeshan?” I enquired.
“Sabu uncle has brought a kid from the orphanage home” - my mom told me.
Sounds like a Sabu uncle thing to do, I figured. The man gave up a high paying job in the Gulf after getting a spiritual call from God to pursue priesthood. Ever since then, he's been frequenting ashrams, tribal camps, and now orphanages, relishing the crowd with folk songs and stories. Whisking a kid from an orphanage during the summer holidays seemed right up his alley.
"Satheeshaa...do you know who this is?" Shobha aunty pointed towards me as I walked into the dining room.
I hate this part.
"This is Paulettan, Sabu achan's sister's son!"
I waved awkwardly, and sat on the dining chair.
"Hi Pauletta!" Satheeshan waved back, with his lanky 3rd-grader torso squeezing out of a narrow hole like a tiny genie coming out of a bottle, engulfed by the dining table and chair.
"Why are you sitting like that?" My mom chided. "This is how Paul chettan used to sit as well, when he was a little kid".
I don't remember doing that, but it looked very comfortable. I pulled my chair closer towards the table.
The next morning, I woke up to the sounds of something stirring in the kitchen. Shobha aunty was making her world-famous Bru coffee, with Satheeshan sitting on the kitchen slab. Ah yes, the first day of summer holidays. There's no drug that can even approximate the boundless joy I felt. For the next 2 months, I was thrilled to hear the chirping of birds, and the faint slokas and sirens from the nearby temple and FACT factory, instead of hearing about incomplete homework, and oncoming exams. Rays of sun gleamed across the immaculate white flooring, reflecting the green and gold hues coming from the garden outside.
Sajan uncle was lying belly-first on the living room floor, with an arm stretched out like Superman.
"Good morning sazanunle..." - I greeted sheepishly.
I could never get myself to call him an uncle properly. The rest of my cousins called him Sajan chittapan, and by some freak accident, me and my sister ended up calling him Sajan uncle, and I always felt like I'm some hoity-toity Englishman for doing that.
"Ah yes, Paul, good morning. Can you call Satheeshan to scratch my back?"
Phew! There's someone else to do that now.
I walked to the kitchen relieved, and conveyed the same to him with the most neutral tone I could muster.
"Oh, what do I do with him!" Satheeshan declared, his wrist on his forehead and eyebrows arched, with the grace of a skilled thespian.
Shobha aunty let out a faint chuckle.
Satheeshan gave her the side eye, as his lips slowly betrayed him from concealing a faint smile.
I went to a nearby room and lay down, wondering how the rest of the summer is going to unfold.
"Ayyo Satheeshaa...slowly..." I could hear Sajan uncle squirm in the background.
My contemplation was cut short by my mother's ominous call.
"Paulee.... don't you have holiday homework to do?"
My stomach protested in annoyance. Holiday homework. The morons that came up with this oxymoronous ordeal deserve a special reservation in hell for destroying the sanctity of summer.
"Satheeshaa...don't you have things to study as well?" Shobha aunty hollered. "We don't want Sabu achan to find out you haven't been revising now, do we?"
"I'll teach him!" I hollered back. Better to teach him than to break my head over these anxiety inducing maths problems, I thought.
Satheeshan brought his books into the room I was in.
"So what are they teaching you in school?" I asked, with an air of superiority.
"Guruthakarshanam"
"Gurutha-what?"
"Guruthakarshanam. Around the 1800s, Issac Newton discovered guruthakarshanam, when an apple fell on his head"
All the wisdom I had gathered through Minutephysics videos and Khan Academy episodes started to evaporate from my brain, as I struggled to find the malayalam words to explain this Malayalam medium Govt school kid.
"Okay, tell me the 3...wait, what is the Malayalam for Laws of Motion?", I pondered frantically, but was saved by Shobha Aunty's call for lunch.
Mom went home shortly after, to take care of grandma, and took her holiday-homework hungama along with her.
The next day, I ventured out with my bare feet, "Oohed" and "Aahed" my way across the prickly pebbled garden, inching towards the towering mango tree.
"Paulootaa...where are you going?"
I turned my head and saw grandma looking at me from the verandah, as she lowered her Mathrubhumi newspaper from her silver streaked face.
"I'm going to get the mango leaf to brush my teeth"
"Mango leaf? But we have a fresh packet of Colgate Cibaca inside".
"Yeah, but this is how people used to brush during the olden days, right?" I responded smugly.
Days passed, and I made sure to brag intermittently about how connected I am to my roots, and win the approval of my relatives, despite having grown up in town, and having gone to an English-medium CBSE school. I don't know if they went along with my charade, or genuinely fell for it. Either way, it worked out well for me, right until they asked me to read the Bible during the evening prayers.
All my smug devotion and perfomative recitation of the divine mysteries left me as I proceeded towards the tattered, old book.
I turned the pages with my shaking, sweaty fingers. The Malayalam lettering was ancient and microscopic, on top of my sudden blurred vision.
"Shobha, switch on that light over there" grandma directed.
"No no, it's okay..." I snapped back, protecting my bruised ego.
"The first letter from St. Paul to the co..ri..en...corianth...ians....corianthians. verses...I...tell...you..to...the..gala....tians...Galatians....."
"Paul, don't you know how to read Malayalam?"
"Of course! I read the Bible at church every day, as an altar boy!"
I could hear Satheeshan giggling in the back.
"Satheeshaa...why don't you read the Bible today?" I suggested maliciously.
"No way!" His face turned red.
"Why not?" Grandma replied sternly.
"No I don't want to!" He shouted back.
"Don't talk like that about the word of God!"
Satheeshan went reluctantly to take the Bible from me. I gave it to him with an evil grin, and went back to my seat.
He held the Bible and proceeded to stutter.
Guess he's as proficient as me in Malayalam, English medium or not. I thought smugly.
His voice started to falter.
"Satheeshaa....are you crying?"
"It's okay Satheesha, don't cry. Ayyee! Aren't you a big boy?"
A pang of guilt went down my abdomen, but I fought the feeling. Serves him right for laughing at me.
The doorbell rang.
"Satheesha, Sabu achan has come!"
"Satheeshaa..." A baritone voice echoed down the hall.
"Satheshan is busy crying"
A spectacled head popped out from the living room door.
"Ah! Hello Sabu achaa" I greeted pleasantly, grateful for the change in mood.
"Oh you're here too!" Sabu achan belted again.
"Go away Sabu acha..Satheeshan doesn't want to see you!" Shobha aunty said jokingly, looking at him.
"Why not?"
"Because he's crying"
"Oh ho! I was thinking of taking you to see the Biennale tomorrow!"
Satheeshan's ears perked up.
"...but you don't want to go, do you?"
"no..I want to" Satheeshan responded feebly, trying his hardest to resist an incoming grin.
"But I thought you were sad, and didn't want to go out"
"Nooo I want too!"
Satheeshan's tears of sadness transformed into tears of joy.
"Then come here and give me a sthuthi"
"Eesho mishihaykkum sthuthiyarikkatte"
"Eppozhum eppozhum sthuthiyaayirikkatte"
Satheeshan zoomed across the room blurting out the concluding greeting of our evening prayers. Grandma caught hold of him, kissing him fondly while he made attempts to wriggle out of her tight embrace.
The next day, the sun shone brilliantly, as Satheeshan, Sajan uncle, Sabu achan and I headed out in Sajan uncle's Indica Vista, to Fort Kochi, and attend the Muziris Biennale, where artists from all around the world come together every 2 years to showcase their creative talents. Or in other words, biriyani for lunch, and if we behave, ice-cream for dessert. Satheeshan sat in the back seat wiggling with excitement. I sat next to him wondering whether it's appropriate for me to still like ice cream. Surely, one day I'm supposed to grow out of it, right? I don't see my uncles acting this way.
"Aaaand for the next questionnn.....what is the name of today's saint?" Sajan uncle broke my train of thought.
"Uhh, I dunno"
"The answer is......drumroll please....Saint Thomaaaas Aquinaaaas!" He thumped on the steering wheel.
An unassuming name, but he would be someone I will have theological disagreements with, 10 years from now.
We stepped out of the car. The salty breeze and the swishing sounds of waves crashing put a smile on my face. Trees were painted in colours I didn't know the names of, and triangular flags fluttered furiously, like the wings of the migratory birds gliding above us.
The creamy glaze of a nearby ice cream shop caught Satheeshan's eye.
"Pauletta, can I please have one?" Satheeshan protested, pulling my arm towards his idea of salvation.
"In some time, da. We don't want to lose our appetite now, do we?" I responded, surprised at my own maturity.
I trodded along, with Satheeshan pulling my arm, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the city. The Portugese churches looked down at us with their white walled facades and intricate crosses. The streets were packed with flute players, cashew vendors, and the like.
I held Satheeshan's hand tightly, wondering when my sister will come back home from Manipal.
"Watch out for crabs" Sajan uncle warned us, as we skipped across the foamy shoreline of the Arabian sea.
Satheeshan was jittery on the way back home. The minute Sajan uncle pulled the handbrake, he flung the door open and rushed indoors like it was raining outside, to play Spiderman 2 on the living room PC.
I dragged myself to the bedroom, lied down and closed my eyes.
"Satheeshaa...didn't we spend the whole day having fun? Why don't you give the computer a rest?..."
I woke up all sweaty and confused. The door was slightly ajar with an incandescent halo around it. I overheard muffled voices talking in accusatory tones and followed them to the bedroom nearby.
"We're saying this for your own good Anoope... I was just telling mom today morning how I thought you were some gangster walking in the streets....why don't you excercise more?.... You need to look more presentable....."
"....forget it Arun, there's nothing we can do if he doesn't decide to change himself..."
I walked into the room dazed. Satheeshan was there before me, wondering why everyone had their serious faces on. I was still too sleepy to gauge the room.
"...but mom, how long do we let him go on like this...what do you want Satheesha? I'll talk to you later..."
"Ayyooooo!" I was jolted by Satheeshan's piercing scream as Arun chettan pushed him aside. He threw himself to the wall and dropped down like a dead lizard.
Shobha aunty and both the chettans shot confused glances at each other.
"My God! What a drama queen!" Arun chettan wheezed out laughing.
Satheeshan opened his eyes and joined in.
"Enough of this comedy..." Shobha aunty said, holding in giggles. "Come children, let's pray..."
Next day, we went to church to celebrate the death anniversary of our late Raju uncle, and Babu uncle.
After mass, I went to the cemetery with Sabu achan to assist him with the rites, while Sajan uncle was busy decorating the tomb.
The rest of the family arrived one by one, with my mom and Shobha aunty shepherding the crowd.
After the rites, my mom and our immediate family started to recite our personal prayers in unison. Satheeshan and I asked each other repeatedly with our eyes when we'll go back home.
We squeezed in through the crowded residence, evading all sorts of questions from relatives of varying familiarities. I hid myself in the kitchen while Satheeshan decided to lay supine in the living room sofa.
"What's your name?" I overheard one of the aunts ask him.
"Satheeshan"
"What's your mother's name?"
"Why are you quiet? Your mom doesn't have a name or what?"
"Mitha, come inside, I want to tell you something."
"Ohh...chey...I shouldn't have asked him that....Oh well...how are you doing Shobha chechi?"
I had an urge to step out.
I made my way through the kitchen backdoor, circled the premises and reached the car porch.
A silver WagonR was there to greet me. Looks like Dad's here to pick me up.
"Paul what are you doing, hiding there?" mom yelled.
"Come here"
"Listen now. I'm going back home, but you can stay and come in the evening."
"No, that's okay. I'll come with you."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
I said my goodbyes, and got in the car.
"Oh! You could've stayed for a little longer" Shobha aunty lingered.
"No it's okay, he has a lot of homework to finish"
"Oh alright then"
I heard grandma shouting "Satheeshaa....Satheeshaa... Paul's going home..." from room to room.
"Tell ammachi we're leaving now. I'm running late for work" dad told Shobha aunty, and started to reverse the car.
Days passed, and my notebooks remained untouched. My mom tried tactic after tactic to get me to do my homework.
"You know Paul, your classmate Shraddha was also lazy like you and didn't do her homework. Then her dad said he'll take her to Dubai in the next 4 days if she finished it by then. And then she sat day and night and finished 2 months worth of homework in just 4 days."
"Then take me to Dubai!"
"You're Bill Gates' son or what?
Tell you what, you can take us all there once you've studied and landed a good job and earned enough money. How about that?" My mom suggested reflexively, adjusting the dining tablecloth, expertly hiding the stains from view.
When I went to visit my grandma during Christmas, Satheeshan had gone back. She told us how tears were rolling down his cheeks when she asked whether he'll be coming back again. Years passed, and my sister got married, with Sabu achan as the main priest, whose name was amended to Raju uncle and Babu uncles' tomb, shortly after.
I enquired further about Satheeshan's whereabouts, but it all was for naught.
The crickets started to chirp loudly, and I was brought back from my reverie.
My right jeans pocket started to vibrate.
I took out my Motorolla, and looked through the cracked glass.
Amma calling...
I picked up the call.
"Hey mom."
"Where are you? Come home quickly."
"I'm on my way."