Turning the tables

“But why not, Mummy?”

“Because she prefers sitting on the floor. Now hush and chew your food.” Shrey’s mother Reena cast a furtive glance towards the kitchen before turning to her six-year-old. He was still staring at his plate with a mild frown, his lower lip stuck out slightly in a gesture that meant he was about to unleash another barrage of questions. 

“But ‘member, when I asked you last week why Swapna aunty doesn’t sit at the table like us and use our plates for lunch, didn’t you say it was because she doesn’t want to sit with Daddy because she respests him? And mummy, is forty-three more than thirty-nine?” 

Sighing, Reena pressed her temples hard before answering the easiest part. “Yes, it is. Why? And it’s ‘res-pects’. Say that again. Respects.”

Shrey blinked at her. Grown-ups completely missed the point sometimes.

“Respects. But Mummy, that means she’s older than you are. So why can’t she eat at the table when Daddy isn’t here? Wait!” he whined as his mother walked away to put away the leftovers in the fridge. “Mummy! You didn’t answer my-” 

Swapna stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her soapy fingers on a spare dishcloth, grinning apologetically at Reena. She came over to the table, gently running a hand through Shrey’s tousled hair. 

“It’s okay, child. You know I like eating in the kitchen more. These fancy chairs, they indeed make my back ache, like your Mummy said. There is nothing as fun as sitting on the cool floor.” 

Shrey pouted. Then he brightened. “Then I’m also going to sit with you in the kitchen and eat.” 

“No, you won’t. And don’t ask why again. Go wash your hands and play.” His mother spoke in the tone that meant even the puppy face would get him nowhere. Even Swapna aunty walked back into the kitchen. Traitor.

I wonder why they say they know better when they don’t want to answer my questions, he thought to himself. 

Later in the evening, Aunt Ahana came over to visit. “You’re becoming more and more like a pudding with each passing day, you know? I’m going to eat you!” she grinned, winking at him before pretending to launch a tickle attack that he dodged, giggling. He liked her. Mummy said she was a lot older than he was, so he ought to res-pect her. But she didn’t feel very old, she was only twenty-four and she always listened to his questions very solemnly. So, when his mother had gone into the kitchen to make snacks, he tugged on Aunt Ahana’s hand. “I have some secret-talk with you.”

Ahana suppressed a smile. She remembered herself at six, wondering why the adults always laughed when she said something smart when she never laughed at them. She let Shrey drag her to his room, clambering onto his bed and sitting cross-legged. “Okay, tell me.”

Shrey tumbled over his words in his eagerness, “...and then, Mummy didn’t tell me why, and Swapna aunty also didn’t tell me why. So, will you tell me why?” he finished, looking up at her hopefully.

Aunt Ahana frowned. “You choose the difficult questions, don’t you, kid?” she said wryly. “I don’t know if I have the answer to this, so how about I tell you the story of when I asked a similar question instead?” 

He nodded, eyes wide. 

“I was your age, or perhaps a little older when I noticed, that in our house, and in some other houses that I went to, mummies never ate at the same time as daddies. They would always stand beside the table, serving the food, waiting for them to finish, and then after the daddies had got up, they would sit down only after they had put away the dirty utensils. Weird, isn’t it?” Shrey nodded vigorously, for once silent.

“So, I went and asked my mother, just like you asked your Mummy. And she said, it’s the way things have always been, that daddies and brothers eat before mummies and sisters. I asked as many Whys as you did, I’m sure, but my mother didn’t know the answers, so she told me to go play. Did yours say that as well?” Aunt Ahana winked. Shrey grinned. His aunt knew the trials of dealing with parents. 

“As I got older, I understood that there are certain things that even grown-ups do that don’t always make sense. But they keep doing it because they don’t know how not to, until slowly they learn. Remember, in English class last week, you kept spelling ‘through’ wrong?” 

“That was because I didn’t know.” Shrey protested. “How was I to know it had more letters than what it sounds like?”

“Yes, exactly. And what did you do when your friend Ayan asked you why you were writing it wrong?” 

“I told him to go do his work and not look at my copy!” he mumbled. “But then, next day, I told him sorry and thank you. And wrote it correctly. T-H-R-O-U-G-H!” he finished smugly.

“Very good! So, sometimes, even if you’re asking the right questions, grown-ups get embarrassed too because they don’t know how to answer it for you right then. It doesn’t mean you should stop asking though. I never did.” she winked. “Just remember a little secret-- grown-ups are like six-year-olds in bigger bodies. Which means they’ll know some things but not everything. So, some of these answers, you’ll have to find out on your own when you grow up. Understand, kiddo?”

Shrey nodded then opened his mouth to launch all the questions he’d been holding back.

“So, does that mean I should not ask Mummy things? And what do I do about Swapna aunty’s lunch? Do I throw a tantrum and sit in the kitchen? Can I ask Daddy? And if things have always been this way, does ‘always’ mean forever? Even when I’m really old- as old as you?”

Aunt Ahana laughed, placing a finger on his lips to halt the bubbling brook of curiosity. “I think you’ll figure it out. As for forever, God, in these matters, I hope not. Your Mummy and Daddy eat together, don’t they? That’s a good sign.”

She hugged him and picked up her bag, going off to the drawing room for a chat with Reena. 

Shrey strode into the kitchen, coming to a stop in front of the sink where Swapna aunty was washing up. 

“Do you really like sitting on the floor? Because I can throw a tantrum and not eat until you sit at the table with us.” 

Swapna aunty gave him a smile, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Yes, Child, this is how it has always been. I don’t mind.” Shrey scrunched up his nose at the ‘always’. “But it means a lot to me, that you think so much about me.” she gave him a tight hug. 

“Okay. Come out with me for a minute.” He pulled her to the sofas where Mummy and Aunt Ahana sat chatting.

“Hello! Hello! HELLO!” he shrieked, giggling when his mother and aunt winced at his volume.

“Mummy, I have something impor-important to say.” he stated. 

“And what might that be, darling?” Reena exchanged a What have you been teaching him? glance with her younger sister. Ahana shrugged.

“When I grow up, things that ‘always’ happen will not happen.”

“What do you mean?” his mother looked puzzled.

“When I grow up, and have a big house, I will have an even bigger dining table and everyone, Mummies and Daddies and brothers and sisters and aunties will always eat together! And that ‘always’ will be always!”

With this prophetic announcement, the ‘man’ of the house picked up his football, all questions forgotten and scampered off to play.

Three women gazed after him in varying shades of bemusement for a minute. And if all three of them were a little teary-eyed- well, no one was impolite enough to mention it.