LUST FOR DURIANS, THE KING OF FRUITS

LUST FOR DURIANS, THE KING OF FRUITS.

-------------------------------------

Keegan Kannan stood with folded arms at the entrance of the Trattoria Italian Restaurant, scrutinizing the flurry of activities on a Friday evening. There was a 1:10 ratio of managers to customers and yet John, the new General Manager insisted on his assistance at the fine dining, one level below the reception floor.

Keegan had a 12-hour shift. In that, 10 hours of standing. His knees ached without mercy. He raised a quizzical eyebrow, accentuating irritation at John's baseless demands as he is known for patronizing foreign employees.  John scratched his temple nervously realising Keegan's logical assessment and valid annoyance. 

 Sheer stupidity! That's it I am leaving! He muttered with a clenched tooth, beneath his cool smile.

Keegan headed to his front office, removed his dark blue coat and hung it on the tall Molla wooden hanger. Then he washed his expresso-stained yellow ceramic mug and placed its head on the table. The finance files were neatly arranged with an in-between green post-it for the GM to sign. Gently removed his sterling cubic silver Zirconia cuff links, inserted them in his left shirt pocket, strapped his brown leather backpack, gave a pat at the night-shift staff and left.

For the past 11 years, 5 km of walking before hopping onto a metro bus with a one-and-a-half-hour back-and-forth journey to work was his assiduous routine.

Keegan always chose the front seat of the blue-white metro bus. The red-cushioned seat is a blessing. His scar on the meet of his eyebrow created a deeper valley than usual. Creases of wrinkles on his forehead and the black under-eye circles showed he missed rest.  

Elbows on the window sill, hands on the chin, he looked out of the window observing and yet not, of the swarming streets. Today, thinking spurred in directions. As he closed his eyes, and traced the hard cufflinks at his chest, the memories of his childhood, school and Amma flashed. He took a deep breath - Amma, I miss you so much.

'Kanna! Quick! help me with the groceries.' Ramoo called out loud. 'My hands and knees are aching', she grumbled as she carried in all the groceries.

'Okay, Amma.' Keegan Kannan hurried to help his mother.

'Ouch! What the f***! What is this?', his hands pricked something sharp.

'Oi, language! Ah, ya, I bought durians. Ramoo said adjusting her dark brown saree with a glimmer in her eyes. She felt good that a luxurious seasonal fruit made its way home- because of her. 

In the 1980s, a young ambitious man, Tan stumbled upon a durian tree in Kelantan, Malaysia. Durians, the tropical fruits known as the King of Fruits had a quick growth and fame worldwide. Planting and cultivating one tree to reap its fruit takes four to seven years. Its sharp, pyramidal-shaped green-yellowish thorns, make the outer layer while the inner fruit is the opposite-yellowish pulp and creamy. The Chefs make durian pie, tarts, ice cream and tempoyak (a Malay dish) with it. Durian- a biennial plant has a complicated relationship with the people due to its strong smell, which is either inviting or a huge put-off. As for Keegan, he loves durians.

Screech!

The bus took a sudden sharp turn. It startled most passengers, babies started wailing, pregnant ladies panicked and elders were anxious. What the fuck! Bus drivers have a knack for creating instant insecurities among people. Keegan reached out to his leather bag and handed a fallen crutch to the frail-looking incapacitated man in his 60s. The man nodded approvingly.

'Quick! Quick! Break open the durian. I can't wait!', Benji pestered Noah.

'I don't wish to get hurt. You open it!', Noah pushes it to Benji the youngest.

Kannan always hated Noah's dominance, his unspelt privilege as the eldest boy in the family, and his superior attitude among the 12 of them were suffocating. Rubbish!

'Okay, I will.' Benji an innocent one, was excited to do the bidding.

'No! Thorns are sharp'.

Plumpy, creamy, yellowish wrinkled fruits were visible as Kannan cracked open the durians, initially with a big knife, cutting along the seam and then using both hands. Three durians had about eight yellow pulp-like lobes, eight times three is twenty-four. Dad and eldest sister were hence twelve of us to share. Twenty-four divided by twelve, it's about two pulps for each of us. The lesser the share the better. Kannan did his usual rigorous math.

'Who doesn't want to eat durians today?' asked Noah the cunning fox that's hoping to secure one extra.

'You can have mine, Noah', Amma uttered.

It was annoying that she was giving up her share for him but I kept quiet. The labor of opening it paid off with succulent fruits. The scarcity wasn’t an issue. We sat in a circle at the hard cemented verandah and ate. I stood up, took my share and dropped it in Amma's hand. It's okay, the next time, I can have all three fruits. 

Growing up in a doolally environment, I find neither kids nor marriage a necessity. At 47, I am an eligible bachelor, smart not to have a date that lasted more than three months, have sufficient curiosity to travel around the world and humble enough to grow and cook my food.

A hotelier is akin to a politician and a celebrity. Black, white and grey worlds co-exist. I work at a four-star crowned hotel, heading a team of 10 from 5 different countries. I made my way to the most heritage-filled, obnoxious and yet alluring city, Dublin. Perhaps the Sex and the City movie was inspired by us, Dubliners.

The bus halted indicating his exit. He said a courteous thank you to the driver, something his front office managing experience taught - be gracious and always smile even if you were killing them multiple times in mind; the art of customer service for dummies.

Keegan rerouted to his favorite Mulligans.

He sat on the high stool at his usual cozy corner, the live band was playing folk songs, people were streaming for the Friday night, and the Guinness and liquor smell filled the dense air. It was 11 degrees Celsius outside, and a good crowd kept the place warm inside. It was a subtle adhesive divorce from his designer hotel.

'Hey, there mate', O' Connelly greeted him. He came with Murphy, their neighbor.

'Hey, there'.

'It's so cold. Out early today?'. O'Connell, also fondly known as O' asked as he rubbed his cold hands. 

'No, I left', Keegan answered curtly. 

Keegan's childhood wasn't a flattering episode. It was chaotic; constant bickering of parents, sibling rivalries and plagued poverty swallowed him. It was merely a house. Amma was a haven but his father was brutal and biased toward the children. Leaving Malaysia and landing in Ireland as a naive single young man was a nightmare until Keegan found O'. O’ is a father figure that he missed back home. What would I do without him? He thought while sipping his Guinness.

Thudd!

Keegan loosened his gripped mug, it landed with a thud on the table as his thoughts spiraled to his bumpy lonely journey. O' noticed that Keegan had drifted to his past, a cyclical habit that O' attempted to free him from.  Even today, amidst all these distractions, it's happening. O' sighed in silence. 

I am sorry Amma for my absence when you fell sick and breathed your last. Noah did the last rites and I failed. Guilt is a prickly thorn. It is difficult to forgive ourselves for the absence of empathy. Time heals. A year passed but healing never came

It was a camaraderie of God. Quenching thirst, feeding manna, turning water into wine, that's HIS appetite for life and humanity. Mine- the wanderlust and longing search for a home. Dublin, Ireland - this green-eyed beauty became my elixir. Destiny has its ways; a desire that leaves a void is repleted and caulked by a person, place or events, I suppose. 

Atelia, a hotel guest wrote an article in Travellers' Paradise magazine on Keegan. The Abbot Hotel's priority customers and mainstream visitors were from the opposite private hospital. Keegan's uplifting words and gentle approach towards the occupants were often mentioned during their stay. He gave hope. Made them believe in healing. Life with its serendipitous moments diverted Atelia's attention towards Keegan.

Cozy dinners were arranged by her in the pretext of writing the article. He willingly complied as she seemed familiar. The days together ignited her fiery passion. She kissed him on his lips to his shock on the last day at the restaurant. He politely hugged and led her by the waist to a cab, with an excuse that - it must be the wine. Did she write because it was the truth or because of her girlish crush, he wondered? Whatever, he deserved the cover page.

The feature article titled "Man of His Words" with a bold-looking Keegan in a dark grey suit, white Pollo shirt, folded arms and a confident smile that would ooze a woman and men made to its cover page. Two weeks later, they woke up together, both satisfied with their achievement.

It's 10 pm here. Keegan dialed her number. Four missed calls. Agitated he brushed his hair with his fingers.

'She didn't answer?', O' asked casually.

'No, no'. Keegan answered in staccato.

'Call her again. Maybe asleep. It's 5-ish there.

Keegan nodded.

Today the boys decided on their choice of drink- Guinness. He looked up at Rosy, the bar girl at the counter, mouthed - one more and a spoon to indicate his usual meal. Rosy winked and replied with a - coming soon, both. He smiled at her flirtatious act, something that he was accustomed to in the hotel line. Perhaps the Irish like tall, dark, handsome hawk-eyed Indian men. He smiled. Amused.  

Together with the royal stout, his usual meal arrived, a luscious whole organic roasted Amish chicken drizzled with a fresh lemon and sprinkled with oregano, and garlic bread as a side dish. The first meal for the day but it's worth the wait since it's from The Mulligan's.

The Rocky Road to Dublin by Paddy O'Reilley and The Seven Drunken Nights by the Dubliners were being played by O'Neils - a band consisting of brothers and sisters from Galway.

Ed Sheeran's song Perfect played while the band took a break. Keegan paused from eating and leaned back at the wall, a child-like smile flashed on his lips for the first time, his facial features softened with each lyric, his gaze serene, his heart lightened and he started singing softly while fiddling with his spoon;

Cause we were just kids when we fell in love,

Not knowing what it was,

I will not give you up this time,

But darling, just kiss me slow,

Your heart is all I own,

And in your eyes, you're holding mine, Baby, I'm dancing in the dark...

This is her favorite

The artist in O' never misses a beat, sensed his agitation, 'Kee, maybe she is in the arms of her boyfriend right after a hot sex', O' eyed Keegan, and gulped the Royal Stout until white-like caramel foams were on his Santa-like mustache.

'O fuck off', Keegan knew O's teasing and yet -what if -was on his mind. Sheesh! Hate the thought!

Though my house was filled with durian thorns and limited pulps, my teenage and campus life was filled with crushes and crash courses. Crush on my classmate, Sonia and a crash course on ambitions. As destiny planned, my ambition overtook, satisfying my palate. Sonia, the one genuine connection to my roots beside Amma was left behind!

His wavered thoughts were disrupted by a newcomer at the table. Hosier, a 6-feet-tall baldy with a red monkey cap tapped Keegan on his shoulders. He nodded with a half-smile. His mind was preoccupied with Hosier's presence and Sonia's absence.

'How was work, Kee?', Hosier asked his day-to-day events earnestly. Kee answered his questions one by one while a disgruntled O' gave a disapproving look.

'Well, he is missing, miss…ing...herrr…house...home', O made his cynical remark.

'Missing home?', Hosier pressed on curiously.

'Homeland, must I have a reason?', Keegan sounded defensive. Thanks to O', who has the knack to put him in a spot, that too with Hosier.

Hosier Joseph is a Brazilian. One yes, and he will be mine. I do like him but stumbled into the next step. The eudemonia is, that we have accepted ourselves. That's the beautiful grudge of Dublin. We take pride in being a pride. No hide and seek. Open to be judged. Who the fuck cares? Life presented us with a buffet. Satiating our appetite is our choice.

The freedom I enjoy here is unimaginable in my homeland. In a country with a Muslim majority and three main ethnicities; Malays, Chinese and Indians, conservativeness is at its peak - we are shunned. Bigger cities are open to the idea but a hush and a shoosh is inevitable.

At 20 I told Amma. How can a small-town boy, brought up by normal Indian parents, with 11 normal gender-unbiased siblings, be gay? Gay...what is that? Doesn't gay mean happy? That was her argument for years. The self-denial of a simple mother. Gay or fluid let it be. I left.

Acceptance isn't easy. But my Sonia did. She accepted and returned it with the one thing she does best, love. My Sonia...He peeked at his watch, it's 11.30 pm, where is she?

The loud laughter, constant refills of beer, high musical notes and jokes that never made it to the center of the stage were exchanged freely. Hosier's PDAs brought Keegan to the now. O' was in his usual boisterous self, Murphy was dancing and flirting with Rosy.

Another hour went by,

'Let's go. Time to hit home.' 'O reminded loudly. The boys gathered their wits, caps and stances. All four with succinct sobriety walked back.

'O was in his usual demeanour of whistling, Murphy with Hosier were walking side by side and Keegan followed them with his hands in his pockets. He looked up to see a big bright bold full moon. Today with the right mood and tone set, sympathy gained, I will propose to her. I am done with the wait. Today is special.

Triiiinnk! Triiiiink! 

The phone rang, it gave a jolt and almost fulfilled the anticipation. Ah, it's not her. Keegan looked at the screen disappointed, it was his sister. A pokey durian thorn that's worth discarding. Hesitantly he answered.

His sister talked nonstop in between sobs. Pearls of perspiration formed on his broad forehead and hands. Keegan stared at his phone. His expressive eyes dimmed. Wrinkles and lines formed on the forehead. Smile vanished. The scar was more visible. He felt numb. The full moon pierced his eyes. 

'What happened?', O' asked impatiently.

Keegan shook his head, walked to the nearest pavement and sat on the edge, he clutched the cuff links, a birthday gift from Sonia.

He gestured O' to go on, to leave him alone. Hosier left reluctantly. They walked off assuming he was disturbed by the norm - the nonsensical attitudes of his siblings.

With sweaty palms and heavy palpitations, he dialed her number again. After two short rings, he heard a voice. Thank God.

'Hey hi'. Sonia's voice was heard.

'I am sorry. It was a busy day, she apologized.

'Sonia, I am not coming back'.

'No? But why? The ticket is booked.

'Sonia, I am never coming back...to Malaysia'. Keegan stressed his words.

'Sonia listen…Benji died!' Keegan finally gathered the courage to speak.

'What are you saying, Kanna?', Sonia sounded louder than usual.

'He was murdered.' Keegan stammered.

'What?', The quietude of Amma's death wasn't fully recovered and now this.

'He was murdered this afternoon. Noah, Noah did it!', his voice sunk in despair.

'I thought my roots were defenestrated but it never left me, Sonia. Truthfully'.

A hush of the night engulfed both ends. She consoled him as a teenage crush and as his well-wisher. With a limited exchange of words and genuine condolences to Keegan, she hung up the phone.

Sonia felt a deep unknown yet familiar pain. Again-he is doing it. Once he ditched her in the streets for his ambition and now ditched her last pieces of trust for?

Sonia closed her eyes, took a deep breath and looked ahead at the big brown bamboo sofa in front of her. She cradled her knees to her chest as her tears brimmed non-stop.

It was raining heavily outside. A promising full moon with linked clouds of betrayals embellished the sky.

A coarse masculine voice reverberated breaking the foreboding ambience of the night. His silhouette is poised and lean.

'Kanna'?

'Yes'. Sonia replied curtly between sobs.

'Benji was murdered. Noah did it! Am I right?', the man's prediction was apt.

'Yes. Unbelievable !'. A deep sigh escaped her already heavy chest. She was unapologetically confused, angry and sympathetic- an unidentified singular emotion. Yet she had been trying hard to find valid reasons for his actions, for the past 27 years – and counting.

'Ruthless desires-a fair achievement-whom to be blamed?', the man spoke. 

The man in a black shirt, rolled his sleeves one by one, lit up a cigarette and leaned forward, he looked at her earnestly, empathetic towards her plight and he was seeking refuge in her familiarity, knowing they both needed each other today.

He reached into his pocket and tossed his handphone on the centered glass table aiming it towards her, while a pre-recorded message played. 

'Just shut up and do it, Noah. The land and family home are ours-the boys. Do this and less one share. Shall wire in Euro. 

~ A story by Annisha Elsa Dee ~