Of chapatis and silos

"You're the one who's pampered her too much. Look at her tantrums. What boy would have her like this." Madan listened quietly while Savitri belched her anger out. Perhaps it was her own way to show her affection to the child, for she would never so far as to question her, let alone a slap or two. But every now and then she would be so worried, and then Madan had to face her temper instead.

But Indu hadn't always been the only girl in the family. She had loved her namesake and Bindu had been so jolly. And Madan would proudly call her the favorite daughter. Every week he came back from work, he would get a haandi of rosogullas, from that special store at Munger and Bindu would be the first one to devour till she was full. And Indu would wait patiently till her elder sister was finished. She was far too institutionalized to question such favoritism, not that it bothered her anyways. In a far corner of her mind, she knew that the rosogullas were far too many to get over before she was the next in queue.

But then things took a bad turn. My grandmother had only 3 children survive the 8 she had borne and the high rate of mortality countered the numerous gifts of god. In a village, falling ill is common. Kids pick up a disease, develop immunity and then stay free from it the rest of their lives. And while the civilized man worries too much for hygiene; water from the earth , unprocessed cereal and mother's milk were fortunately enough for the rugged life at the village. Bindu hadn't been so fortunate. And when she took ill all the colors had faded from Madan's face. He had gone from place to place looking for doctors and witches to cure her. He hadn't been to the fields or the office at Munger for weeks now. And Bindu would just lie there in the cot, a former shell of life and giddiness that she had been.

Even now Indu hates to reminisce of those days. And while she would run errands on Savitri's orders and Bindu's whims, she had stayed by her sister massaging her feet and hands. They never knew what had her down and when she lay in the cot lifeless, not much different from a few moments ago, Indu had kept massaging her feet. It was maybe a minute or two later when she shrieked and Savitri had come running to her worst fears.

Madan had remained morbid for weeks to come. Indu had tried to cheer him up so very often. And she had finally succeeded. The crops were good that year and Madan had a promotion to him. But she had ne'er liked the chapatis while Savitri would make an extra lot to keep her plump and healthy. Even Madan wouldn't rescue her from it. He would too have an obese daughter than a sickly and thin child. So Indu would sit with her plate and eat so very slowly, always near the silo. And when her parents weren't looking, she would slide a couple of the thick fat pancakes behind it.