“Correct.”
“Correct.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
Only Sahil and Aneesha and Rishi were silent, scraping dirt from their uncut nails. Mr. Ahuja indicated them with the back of his palm. “You little ones probably don’t remember.”
Mr. Ahuja at it again! Divide and rule!
Sahil and Aneesha and Rishi protested. “Of course yes Papa!”
“What are you saying ?” Tanya sneered. “You were too little.”
“Yes, beta, Tanya is right. It was a long time ago. Before any of you were born, in fact. Before I married your mama even. When I was younger, I was married to another lady. As you know. But she, God bless her, passed away in a car accident. You remember me telling you, correct?” he asked gruffly. “Real tragedy it was. Like the movies. Unforgettable.”
“Un for get bal,” said Rahul.
“Of course, yes.”
“Hundred percent.”
“Yes Papa.”
“Very sad.”
“Chhoo chhad.”
“It was a Contessa, right, Papa?”
“A WHAT?” Mr. Ahuja said.
“A Contessa Car.”
“Uh, yes—Contessa. Anyway. As you know, she was the one who was Arjun’s real mother. You know this right? Why are you all looking so surprised?”
Surprise was not the word, no—they looked like they’d all just been held down forcefully and given ten injections to their buttocks.
The Insect-O-Flash device at the counter crackled as more and more flies electrocuted themselves on the four parallel bright tube lights.
“Not surprised, Papa,” they lied.
“Yes Papa. We know about Arjun.”
“That’s why he doesn’t like when hero in movies says to villain, Have you drunk your mother’s milk? He feels like a villain when he is with Mama.”
“Ughzactly.”
Mr. Ahuja felt bad that he was playing them—but what choice did he have? Better for them to suppress their surprise and mimic adulthood. Better for them to trick themselves into familiarity with the shocking news—to waste their energies combing their memories rather than aggressively posing questions.
“Yes. Good. Very good memory,” said Mr. Ahuja. “All those years of feeding you duffers cod-liver oil has worked, eh? But yes. We never talk about it because Arjun was only three when your mama became his mama. Do you rememberanything from when you were three? No, naah? So that is what I wanted to say. Arjun was feeling a little upset because he’s the only one of you who isn’t born from Mama and he doesn’t even remember his real Mama. He feels left out. He thinks Mama and you all act differently toward him.”
Now the children were caught. Having nodded their way through this manipulative speech, they could not issue a denial. Couldn’t say they had no idea what their Papa was talking about. Instead, they tried to act cool. Tried to pretend they remembered and had, in fact, mistreated Arjun. Breathed heavily through their mouths.
“So basically he’s a stepson, naah,” said Tanya, translating for the other children. At twelve, she considered herself to be their representative. She was buying time.
“Stepson, yes,” said Varun. “Ughzactly.” He was secretly wondering how much Arjun would have to pay him to keep the secret.
“This tho I knew,” Rahul lied. He itched to put the news on his blog.
“Henh?” said Mr. Ahuja. “What is this you’re saying? No beta. Arjun’s not a stepson! He’s my son. He has my blood. If a mosquito bit me and then bit you and bit Arjun, it would be as confused as a person who drinks Diet Pepsi and Diet Coke one after the other. He is my son only. He is as much my son as any of you—”
“But I’m a girl,” said Rita.
“Yes, yes, beta. As much my son as you are my daughter.He just came from a different mother. So he’s my real son and your Mama’s stepson. That is all you need to know.”
“So he is a stepson,” Tanya said, nodding her head gravely at the crowd.
“Like in Cinderella?” said Varun excitedly.
“No stupid,” Rita shushed. “That was a stepdaughter
“Correct.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
Only Sahil and Aneesha and Rishi were silent, scraping dirt from their uncut nails. Mr. Ahuja indicated them with the back of his palm. “You little ones probably don’t remember.”
Mr. Ahuja at it again! Divide and rule!
Sahil and Aneesha and Rishi protested. “Of course yes Papa!”
“What are you saying ?” Tanya sneered. “You were too little.”
“Yes, beta, Tanya is right. It was a long time ago. Before any of you were born, in fact. Before I married your mama even. When I was younger, I was married to another lady. As you know. But she, God bless her, passed away in a car accident. You remember me telling you, correct?” he asked gruffly. “Real tragedy it was. Like the movies. Unforgettable.”
“Un for get bal,” said Rahul.
“Of course, yes.”
“Hundred percent.”
“Yes Papa.”
“Very sad.”
“Chhoo chhad.”
“It was a Contessa, right, Papa?”
“A WHAT?” Mr. Ahuja said.
“A Contessa Car.”
“Uh, yes—Contessa. Anyway. As you know, she was the one who was Arjun’s real mother. You know this right? Why are you all looking so surprised?”
Surprise was not the word, no—they looked like they’d all just been held down forcefully and given ten injections to their buttocks.
The Insect-O-Flash device at the counter crackled as more and more flies electrocuted themselves on the four parallel bright tube lights.
“Not surprised, Papa,” they lied.
“Yes Papa. We know about Arjun.”
“That’s why he doesn’t like when hero in movies says to villain, Have you drunk your mother’s milk? He feels like a villain when he is with Mama.”
“Ughzactly.”
Mr. Ahuja felt bad that he was playing them—but what choice did he have? Better for them to suppress their surprise and mimic adulthood. Better for them to trick themselves into familiarity with the shocking news—to waste their energies combing their memories rather than aggressively posing questions.
“Yes. Good. Very good memory,” said Mr. Ahuja. “All those years of feeding you duffers cod-liver oil has worked, eh? But yes. We never talk about it because Arjun was only three when your mama became his mama. Do you rememberanything from when you were three? No, naah? So that is what I wanted to say. Arjun was feeling a little upset because he’s the only one of you who isn’t born from Mama and he doesn’t even remember his real Mama. He feels left out. He thinks Mama and you all act differently toward him.”
Now the children were caught. Having nodded their way through this manipulative speech, they could not issue a denial. Couldn’t say they had no idea what their Papa was talking about. Instead, they tried to act cool. Tried to pretend they remembered and had, in fact, mistreated Arjun. Breathed heavily through their mouths.
“So basically he’s a stepson, naah,” said Tanya, translating for the other children. At twelve, she considered herself to be their representative. She was buying time.
“Stepson, yes,” said Varun. “Ughzactly.” He was secretly wondering how much Arjun would have to pay him to keep the secret.
“This tho I knew,” Rahul lied. He itched to put the news on his blog.
“Henh?” said Mr. Ahuja. “What is this you’re saying? No beta. Arjun’s not a stepson! He’s my son. He has my blood. If a mosquito bit me and then bit you and bit Arjun, it would be as confused as a person who drinks Diet Pepsi and Diet Coke one after the other. He is my son only. He is as much my son as any of you—”
“But I’m a girl,” said Rita.
“Yes, yes, beta. As much my son as you are my daughter.He just came from a different mother. So he’s my real son and your Mama’s stepson. That is all you need to know.”
“So he is a stepson,” Tanya said, nodding her head gravely at the crowd.
“Like in Cinderella?” said Varun excitedly.
“No stupid,” Rita shushed. “That was a stepdaughter
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