[Fiction] The Indomitable Palakkad Maami

There was nothing unusual about the apartment. “Jyotirmay”, as named by its builder, an old Bengali babu, it was located in the suburbs of North West Delhi. The 90’s building consisted of several blocks, with each block having 6 flats - three on either side of a small central porch (for the want of calling it anything else) and a parking. Asphalted pavements dotted with tall trees, a small children’s park, it made a pretty picture.

The ground floor flat 01 at Block C was occupied by the Gupta’s and Flat 02 by their archrivals the Reddy’s. Flat 05 & 06 on the second floor had been converted to a single penthouse by Mr. Jiten Shah. While Flat no 04 was recently vacated, Flat 03 was the residence of the Palakkad Maami - Ambujam. 

She & her husband, Ramachandran Mama (the dear old man who had faithfully served the Tata’s for 25 long years and now post retirement was dutifully serving his wife), had come to Delhi when their son got transferred here. Within few months of their arrival their son got a promotion and was asked to take charge of the Gurgaon branch. Since Maami didn’t seem to like the fast paced life over there they decided to stay back here in Delhi.

Ambujam maami’s personality belied the legend that she had become. Busting the ‘Madrasi’ stereotype, the 50 year old was fair skinned, doe eyed, demure looking in her madisar but southern though she was in her deep prejudices & suspicious nature. In her affable outlook, ready wit & her congenial smile she hardly looked the type of shrewd-woman-with-claws yet she was the uncrowned queen marquee of the block. And why not? Her crisp dosas had clinched the coveted alliance for downstairs Neelu Gupta, her stately Kancheevarams had put the pompous Mrs. Sharma firmly in her place and Maami’s repository of quick home remedies made her the MVP of the entire block.

One morning started with a loud noise interrupting the mellifluous notes of Venkatesha Suprabhatam. Wondering what could have shaken the peace of Jyotirmay everyone came out to see a rickety lorry laden with so many household items that it looked like an entry for Limca Book of Records. Along stood a taxi with two smiling pixie kids peering out of the passenger seat and then their eyes fell on a tall well-built guy yelling at the taxi driver. After some noisy bargaining (to put it mildly) the taxi made its exit showing its displeasure with its grunting & honking and the visitor turned triumphantly to greet the apartment & his expectant neighbours.

Walking briskly ahead he gave a enormous hug to Mr. Sharma, “Hulloji, Hum aapke naye padosi hai. “We have come to the Flat number 04 jee”

“Huh!, Hello” greeted back Sharmaji, quickly recovering his poise.

Beaming at everyone he exclaimed “I am Mister Laakhan. Am into the real estate businessesjee”. Wanting to further expend his warmth he advanced towards our Maami with an intention to engulf her in a motherly hug. Imagine the horror of the lady who would possibly have consulted the astrological charts to have had a private discussion with her husband, for whom any such public display of affections was a taboo! But our Maami proving yet again who she was, quickly ducked out of Laakhanji’s outstretched arms and made a quick dash to the safety of her flat.

Laakhanji was stunned, rebuffed and felt completely insulted. He took an instant dislike to this Madrasi woman who was attired strangely and acted oh-so imperiously! Glaring at each other both realized that the feelings of instant dislike was absolutely mutual. Making small talk he ushered his family to his new abode, swearing inwardly to himself to show the lady who he was after all. To her credit, Maami simply dismissed him as another one of those uncouth North Indian fellows.

Next morning being Shashti (Holy day), Ambujam maami quickly had her early morning bath, completed her other chores and went on to the daily ritual of decorating a kolam (rangoli) on the central porch on the ground floor. Since it was one of those special days, she did an elaborate design and at the end of a strenuous hour she retreated pleased with the result. It was indeed a beautiful sight but not to the eyes of revenge seeking Laakhanji who was watching from his balcony.

Soon an idea cropped into his scheming head and he headed inside to get some paan. Now surely one needn’t be told what he intended to do chewing pan in the morning. Ambujam maami on her way to the temple saw the red paan stain, spat diagonal across her beautiful kolam. Incensed as she was, she didn’t realize it was a deliberate attempt to demean her art and instead she cursed all the vendors who might have made their way into the apartment. Had it ended as a single episode; it would have been best forgotten. But Laakhanji enjoyed seeing the torment on our Maami’s face and gleefully enjoyed each of these victorious moments. Each day just made him feel better, more powerful and bolder.

But soon one such morning Maami caught him in the act. For a second, Laakhanji did not know what to do. Under Maami’s incredulous cold stare he thought he was losing his bold and confident former self. Reminding himself that she was after all an old woman he managed to regain a semblance of courage and inched his way to his house.

Maami came rushing home, “Ennaa!,..” Ramachandra mama froze in fear that his wife had caught him red handed eating a spoonful of sugary therratipaal (South Indian milk based sweet). His shivering hands immediately dropped the spoon to the floor, spilling its contents all over. Clearly it not being one of those everything-under-my-control days, Maami fumed and fretted, “Enna, Avanukku enna thimeiru patheyla?” {Did you see the guts of that person?}

Maama had absolutely no clue what or who she was referring to, but was immensely relieved that her object of anger was not him. Concern personified, he nodded sagely, “Enna acchu Ambujam?” The dam broke and Ambujam Maami went on relentlessly ranging from the great ancestral family she belonged to showing unreasonable understanding towards George Bush for the waging the war against Iran.

Just when she was pondering and muttering on how to fight back, there came a knock on the door. “Namasteji, hum aapke naye padosi hai. Humne socha pechan karloon aapse ” she said smiling. “Hum Girija Devi hain. Laakhanji ki Mrs”

Clad in a purple sari, pink lipstick and red sindoor on her head, she made quite a picture. It took a split second for Ambujam maami to regain her composure and she invited the lady warmly to her living room. It might have never occurred to Girija that the lady so benevolently smiling down at her could have ever spent the previous few minutes plotting on a hundred ways to assault her husband.

Over a cup of Maami’s special filter coffee, Girija confessed that she loved south Indian “idli-dosa” and she wanted Ambujam maami’ to be her guru. Seizing her opportunity and with a twinkle in her eye Maami readily agreed to tutor Girija but on a condition.

***************************************************************

Next day Laakhanji hurried to the balcony with his mouthful of paan juice, just to stop himself from tumbling down. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he saw his wife down there drawing colorful rangoli patterns. Rubbing his eyes he looked up to see the smug Ambujam maami smiling at him across the balcony. Stumped he was and acceded his defeat without thinking of fighting back. After all Ambujam Maami had achieved that what he could not in the past 11 years - tame his wife!