Cannibals

My mother's name is Ruth Cannibal. My name is Udayan Cannibal.

Why's that?

I don't know. Why's Nauzer Daruwaala Daruwaala? Why's Beer Singh Beer?

There are somethings you're just born with and have to learn with. In economics they call it an initial endowment.

We hired her as a domestic help. Mum wasn't keeping well those days.

She had that look of caring on her face. Like she was doing this not for the money but because it was her calling. She used to stand there next to mum, holding her hand. 'Sub theek ho jayega beta', she said, while caressing mum's hand.

She would take no meals in the home. With the tone of voice she used, we couldn't even consider prejuidice. Besides, she was Christian like us. Only, she went to a different church.

She used to bring a hindi leaflet like thing to read. I didn't ever really enquire but it might have been Maranatha Alert or one of those doomsayer publications. I have this picture of her, sitting patiently by my mother in a small wooden chair, reading, framed in memory. It's one of those insignificant details that stick, even perhaps flash by you in those final retrospective moments.

One afternoon, we took her out in the verandah and cut her up. She tasted lovely in curry with the mutton biryani and raita.

early this morning

My mother's phone rings. The number seems unknown. It's not the phone call I've been waiting for.

Phone: Kahaan se bolath hain?

Me: Hello.

Phone: Haan. Kahaan se bol rahe hain?

Me: Hello. Aap bataiye aap kahaan se bol rahe hain.

Phone: Haan. Ka Bagiyapur se bol rahe hain?

Me: Kya?

Phone: Kya Bagiyapur se bol rahe hain?

Me: Nahin. Ye Lucknow hai.