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I tried to collect my thoughts as Anju Aunty looked at me, confused at my confusion. Really, I could not be the ideal daughter-in-law if I did not know who Beti and Betu were.
‘Of course! That is exactly why I got confused,’ I agreed, smiling jubilantly.
‘Good! Very good!’ said Anju Aunty, her face beaming with joy, now that I looked a little less zapped. ‘I am glad you know who Mala Taiji is, at least,’ she said, smiling kindly. ‘Lata Taiji’s daughter-in-law’s daughter-in-law did not even know who Mala Taiji was!’ she added, conspiratorially. ‘Even after she got married!’
‘Really?’ I said, aghast at how cheeky daughters-in-law were getting these days. I made a mental note to ask Purva who Lata Taiji was. And Mala Taiji. And Betu. And Beti.
‘So how are your cooking classes coming along?’ asked Anju Aunty, just as I brought the cup of tea to my mouth.
‘Cooking class? Which cooking class?’ I asked nonchalantly, eyeing the samosas that were on the table. I had already had five and Anju Aunty was now watching me with raised eyebrows as I stretched my hand out for the sixth one.
‘Which classes?’ she asked, seeming zapped. ‘You told me you’ve been going for cooking classes every day for the last four weeks?’
I almost sputtered out the tea I was about to swallow. I vaguely recalled lying to her about it and, having uttered the lie, I had completely forgotten about it. ‘Ji … ji…’ I stuttered. ‘Of course … they are good fun and I am learning so many new things…’
‘Really?’ said Anju Aunty, beaming with the sort of pride that only a mother-in-law in the making can beam with. ‘What did you learn in your last class, Beta?’
‘Umm…’ I fumbled, trying to think on my feet but blanking out instead. ‘Pizza!’ I cried.
‘What?’
‘Pizza!’ I said jubilantly, smacking the arm of the sofa in my excitement.
Anju Aunty eyed the cloud of dust that arose from the sofa disapprovingly. ‘But did not you say that it was an Indian cooking class?’
Why do I have to go overboard when I lie?
‘Oh yes!’ I recalled now how I had told her how much Indian cooking excites me and how I would love to be able to cook delicious Indian food for family and friends after the wedding. It was all coming back to me.
Slowly.
‘Beta,’ she said, making a visible effort to reign in her patience. ‘Are they teaching you how to cook Italian food? If that is the case, you should ask them to return your money. If they don’t, let me speak to them. This is not done. In fact, call them up right now. Right now. I will shout at them and get your money back,’ she concluded, her cheeks red with indignation.
‘No … no…’ I said, panicking. I began to rack my brains. ‘Actually, that’s the other cooking class I go to.’
Deathly silence for a few minutes.
‘You are attending two cooking classes?’ Anju Aunty said slowly, unable to hide either her surprise or delight.
‘Ji,’ I said, looking down shyly at my hands that were now neatly folded my lap. ‘Two classes – one for Indian cooking and the other for Italian,’ I purred in a soft, demure voice.
‘Arre … my darling,’ she crooned as she came to me and affectionately patted my head. I had just won about a trillion brownie points and mentally high-fived myself. I wondered if I had moved Anju Aunty enough for her to take off the other gold bangle and press it into my hands. ‘So, what did you learn in your last Indian cooking class?’ she asked, as she made her way back to her sofa. The lone gold bangle rolled around her wrist as she sat down and sipped from her cup of tea.
I looked around helplessly. The madness would not end. ‘Mughlai parantha,’ I said, amazed at how that came out of me. For god’s sake, I have never even seen, leave alone eaten, mughlai parantha.
‘Ohh … that is very nice! How do you make it, Beta? The recipe?’ she said, sipping her tea and looking expectantly at me. This was exactly the kind of chai-time conversation that Anju Aunty had dreamt of having with the bahu – swapping recipes, discussing dal and talking about boiling milk. I gulped. The world swam around me. Why does this always happen to me?
‘What is the need for that, Auntyji? I will cook it. Someday,’ I said glibly.
Anju Aunty laughed delicately, pleased with her future daughter-in-law’s promise to cook mughlai paranthas. ‘Why some day, Beta?’ she said chirpily.
My heart stopped beating as I raised my eyebrows, wondering where all of this was heading.
‘Why don’t you make it today?’ she said, throwing up her hands gleefully.
I could literally feel my eyes pop out. I shook my head.
‘Today?’ I asked, to clarify.
