Sudha Subramanian
Why this Amma is acting like this and all only I don’t understand. She is making her eyes go round round like one fan. But who will tell her to relax little? Ha?
“Simply for one name why you are acting like this and all Amma?”
It’s not like I like to talk shouting-shouting with her. But if she is not able to really get the meaning of how I am feeling then I will not get angry ah?
But my Amma is not any person. I get angry means, she gets double angry.
“Oho? Name it seems. What name? You mean, people calling you stupid things is OK? Calling you Atlas, Gitlas? We gave you such a beautiful name. Achuthaswami Aditya. And they are coming and calling you map?”
“Aiyoo Amma. First you eat. Then we can fight. Habba. How hard to talk to you only!”
“Oho. Now you have become so big that you will tell all this ah? Eat, drink and all. Eh listen. You are small. OK? Talk with some respect. Simply by getting moustache, nobody becomes big.”
I don’t want to make her more angry by telling her Atlas means not map and even I know that because our Social Studies Miss told and gave us that. Means, what happened was like one big buddhu I only opened my mouth in class when we all removed our books from the bag. I said Atlas means map and Miss corrected nicely saying, Atlas means maps book. That’s how I know it so well. That’s how I also got that name. All classmates started calling me Atlas, Atlas. I mean, for me it is fine because my Social Studies Miss also became nice to me after that and I started liking her more. That Miss used to be so beautiful with one rose on the side and all. Habba. My heart always used to do one thaka-thai dance. And with this new name, I also became off like famous. But for Amma, how she will know all this or understand all this? She came to know about my name today only because Umesh, my classmate came to give his marriage invitation and opened his big fat mouth.
“Oye Atlas. How you are man? So many days over.” Umesh said off. Enough for Amma to get up and become all angry.
“Who is Atlas here? Call him Adi. Such a nice name we gave him and you have come to give invitation and calling him by wrong name?” She started off.
“Ayyo, Amma. That is my pet name. Don’t start off now.”
“Pet name ah? Habba. Calling you map is pet name? All your brains are like my cash box, always empty! Stupid people. What a nice name we gave you!”
And from that time onwards, she is going on and on like one express train. Non-stop.
That paavum Umesh, sat for sometime, looking here, there and smiled like one big buddhu and went off feeling very somewhat.
But after Umesh went off, Amma had new ideas in her head.
“Eh Adi, look, even that one and half eyes Umesh has got a girl means…”
“Amma, please you don’t start off now…”
“What don’t start off. Even after knowing you ran away for eight years, that Bharathi’s parents have sent her photo. Told, they will give one cycle also. I mean, what for us, if they are giving means. I am telling, see that girl photo. Little black she is. But, we should also adjust no? Now, we can’t get very good girls because of what you did. And also, they were asking why you are staying alone in this house when we are also living in the same city. They are doubting, you have some bad habit and all. I told them, see, it is good for the girl. So much freedom she will get. But that girl is very saadhu. So finally they sent her photo.”
If I leave Amma, she will keep talking this and that. First, it is best to tell her OK-OK. So, she will leave me alone.
“OK, Amma. Leave the photo here. I will see later. But first, you keep quiet.”
“Huhhh… like that only all children will talk. Keep quiet. Don’t do this and that. What and all we should listen! All my Karma. See that Lokesh…”
“Amma. Will you stop? How many times I told you not to compare me with other people. That’s why I ran off in the first place. Now, be quiet. And I want some little bit of silence. Habba… You are non-stop.”
“Fine. I will go now. Uff… children! How they talk back to parents. When we were small, we couldn’t speak to anyone like this. Forget telling Amma or Appa to keep quiet. Now, I will leave this photo on this table. You see later. Tomorrow I should tell them if we will go to see her or not. Ok? Remember, they are giving cycle. We can ask for scooter also. But what we will do with two scooters? You already have one. So better we take cycle. They will also give some money it seems in hand also. What more we want, you tell?”
“Ok Amma. I will see and tell you. Now, please don’t start off anything more…”
Amma showed her hands, made some faces like this and like that and finally went.
I went to the table, took that photo and put in my shirt pocket without looking. Why I should look? Amma is so much proud means, I am her son, I am like more proud.
It has become like one routine now. Every time after Amma goes off to her house, I can’t be inside my house for some time. So I will always go for one walking. I mean, so many things in my head was going round, round. How much confusion. Telling Amma “No” means, I have to tell her some new reason which she will also not doubt or think I am simply telling some kind of story. Amma, even though, she is from village, is not like this simply. She is very very sharp. She will catch anything like that. I didn’t know how to make her understand that interest itself is not there to marry anyone. How to make her understand how my heart is doing thaka-thai dance because she called me map.
I think somewhere rain is coming because I can smell the mud. Aah. How much I like this smell. It will be nice to eat nice hot pokodas from that corner shop. But if I get wet means? But I can see many people are eating pokodas and mothers are dragging children inside to do homework. How mothers always shout at children! See me. I am thirty years old. Still my mother is shouting at me. Telling me get married, see girl. Sometimes I feel so angry means, I feel like kicking stones and shouting very loud. Means, somewhere she should understand that I am not one small baby. She will call me “Achu” to simply apply butter for me so I will listen to her. As if, I don’t know all her tactics. Huhhh… but oho… where I came off, thinking so much like this and like that. These people are smoking in this corner small shop. Amma calls it suitcase shop because, it is so small, square and so much you will get in that small shop. Anyway, why she is again and again coming in my head? Ha? Should do pranayama like Ramdev Baba. Breath in. Breath out.
Oh! That smell. Oh. It is that particular Charminar brand of cigarette and it is making me very weak. I promised I won’t touch it, but, how anybody will know even if I take one. But no. Let me do something and forget it. But I am already standing in front of suitcase shop.
“What you want?” That shopkeeper is wearing a very dirty banian. I want to put one full soap and wash it and make it white—like in that advertisement—like that I feel.
“Charminar,” I tell him.
“Single or pack?”
He is scratching his head also. Ayyo. I don’t want to put that thing on my lips.
“Pack.” I tell but I am thinking how I will hide it. Amma will check all places. Today when she came home, she opened my cupboard and was lifting all my shirts, chaddis, and asking, me, “Eh what Adi, what you are hiding? Maybe that’s why you are staying alone even if we are here only in the same city.”
Again, I am thinking of Amma. I am so angry with her. First, I will go off from here but first, I light one, take one big, long breath. Suddenly, I feel I am not afraid of anything. One song also is coming in my mind and dance also is coming in my mind. Shaking my head, I blow more smoke means, I see one bus. It is empty. Why nobody goes anywhere on Sunday evening I don’t know. All are sitting in hall, TV, eating some bajji, pokoda and seeing TV where some film must be coming. For me, nothing. I have seen all films and I am up to date. I can see again but today, maybe I will sit in bus and go somewhere. What is rain. Even if it comes, no problem. I will get wet means, I will take one towel and wipe. That’s all. This is also because of Amma. She has made me afraid. She has always told, “Achu, you will get wet and get fever. You will get cold.” Ayyo. Again I am thinking of Amma. Cha. I should stop and do something different. First, let me go inside the bus. Correct timing. It started to drizzle.
“Where?” Conductor is asking.
“Last stop.” How I know where this is going? I didn’t see board only.
“Majestic aaa?” Why his teeth colour is like that? I want to ask. Maybe I will not smoke. My teeth should not become that colour.
“Yes!” I take out money and give. How much that conductor smelled! How I will know if I am also smelling like that? Good thing is the bus is almost empty. The back seat has people. The second row is my favourite row in bus and I quickly go and sit off before anyone can come.
I think driver is also in one very good mood. He is playing one nice song. Old song. Hmmm… I want to hum. Inside my head, I am running in slow motion in a garden. Oh, how my hair is also flying in wind and my full sleeve shirt and pant is looking! I am so handsome. The tabla is making my leg go thaka-thai, thaka-thaka-thai. I am feeling like Rajkumar, dancing and singing like the hero of the film. And I see her, my heroine, how her flower saree is nicely flying in wind. Maybe I am dreaming too much because that conductor is doing like-that, like-that with eyebrows. Better to look outside window but that song is not going only and that is when I see that God in the frame, right next to the driver. Oh that God with peacock and all. I forgot name. Oh. I should think hard but aiyyaa, who is this? Pushing and pushing me in the seat eh? This Amma like person. Why everyone is this Amma like person I don’t know. And they are disturbing my thinking. Oh. Now I remember the God in the photo. Amma told and gave when we were small. It is Subramanya Swamy. Yes. Yes. Correct. But there are two ladies also in the photo. Who it is? This Amma like person is laughing and showing her crooked teeth at me. Suddenly before I can stop, my big mouth is asking her about the photo.
“It is Subramanya Swamy.” She is telling me.
“Who these two ladies with him? His wife?”
“Two of them.” She is shaking head, laughing, as if I am her best friend. “Valli and Devayani.”
I don’t know why but I am feeling like Rajkumar, again. Dancing with me is Sakina. She is wearing flower-flower saree, putting one rose on the side of her hair. And we both are dancing and dancing till the song is over. I am very very happy and I am like one hero in film with a big smile still singing, “Love me or hate me, kiss me or kill me, oh darling please do something to me. Turururururu…”
“Majestic,” the Conductor is shouting as if he is in one very angry mood like he is disturbed when he is seeing TV.
“What Sir? You don’t want to get down aaa?” The conductor is looking at me.
“Ayyo. Why I will be here only eh?” I quickly get down from the bus. Many ideas are coming in my head.
Sunday evening means, people outside are hurrying to go inside house and inside people wanting to see TV. But my mind is still singing, “Love me or hate me, kiss me or kill me, oh darling please do something to me….” How nicely Rajkumar has sung this song. I want to actually dance on this road. Like that I am feeling. This red saree lady with red lips is winking. I want to tell her I am a very decent man. I am Atlas A and Sakina is my Compass B. I almost say this without thinking so much when the streetlight is becoming on and I hear one temple bell ringing. I think I should go there. It is like one signal I feel and it is coming from nearby one road signal. Ha! Who will keep one temple near one signal eh? Too much sometimes people will also do. But what I can do about it? Simply, I will go inside and pray.
I remove my chappal, go inside and ring the bell. What is this? I cannot believe it. It is one Ganesha temple but with there are two ladies with Ganesha. What? I want to see if I am correct.
“Pujari, who is these two people with Ganesha?” I ask the man who is doing all the pooja. He is laughing at me as if I am making a joke. He is showing one finger and telling me, “It is Sidhi and Buddhi. Ganesha’s two wives.”
I want to laugh. God is giving me very good signal. After the prasad, I run outside. Laugh is coming so much. There is one bench near to one streetlight. I clean with kerchief and sit. When nobody is there, I slowly take out the photo from my pocket and see. Bharathi is looking ok-ok. She is not Sakina but she is plain and simple. Sakina always gives me flying kiss when nobody is seeing. Sakina can even do twist with me in the bedroom but Amma will never understand. She will only get more angry if I tell I married a Muslim girl in Bijapura after running away from home and came back because Appa was not well. I took one separate house thinking I can bring Sakina. But maybe I can also do something like these Gods. Ah! What body Sakina has! Her curves are like our house jasmine creeper. I don’t know about Bharathi but maybe Amma is correct. Maybe marriage can make everything fine. And maybe Bharathi is not bad. The cycle is not bad. The cash also is not bad. And maybe I can do this for Amma. One for me. One for Amma. And all can be happy. Ah! Super! I can be Atlas, compass, globe or Adi whatever Amma wants. I put off photo inside pocket and try to whistle. Only air is coming out. Chi! I will hum off… “Love me or hate me, kiss me or kill me, oh darling…” I also want to make celebration. In some film I saw, that hero also was smoking Charminar. But cha, I don’t have matches only. Leave. I can see one hotel. So I will go and order off one nice hot dosa. Good idea. “Love me or love me because I am Atlas Adi, who can find any way…” Like that I make off one song and laugh because Atlas means they can have many many compass.
Sudha Subramanian lives in Dubai with her husband. She was a columnist in Gulf News for over fifteen years. Her articles and opinions have appeared in newspapers, and her fiction and nonfiction have been published in anthologies and various literary magazines. A partial list of her publications can be found on her link tree: https://linktr.ee/sudha_subramanian. In 2023 and 2024, her flash fictions were nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology. Sudha is an alumna of Write Beyond Borders, a prestigious mentoring project for emerging writers of South Asia. She is an amateur birder and a tree hugger. Connect with her on X (@sudhasubraman), Instagram (@sudha_subraman), and Bluesky (@sudhasubraman.bsky.social).
