Latha.
Three chirpy mynahs woke Latha
up that Sunday morning.
“Oh! Why did these wretched birds
have to ruin my Sunday of all days?”
she thought.
She offered up a short prayer and
got off her bed. Seeing the alarm
clock ticking away unaffectedly, she
realized that she was later than usu-
al. She rushed through her morning
routine, made her bed, changed her
clothes and went into the kitchen
after tying up her long and lustrous
black hair.
Her mother was struggling to open
the tin of sugar. Hearing Latha’s an-
klets chime, she looked up. “There
you are. What a thoughtless daugh-
ter I have. How am I ever going to
marry you off. Some boy will have to
come along who will be able to han-
dle you. Here open this tin for me”.
She handed the foolishly headstrong
sugar tin to Latha. “And when you
get to open it, make some coffee. I’ll
get on with the rest of the work”.
20
Latha worked up a row trying to
open the tin; she banged it against
the counter, cursed it, yanked at
the lid till her nails felt that they
would break off at their roots. Fi-
nally, she succeeded. All the while,
she watched her mother effortlessly
and artfully griddling Appams. The
aroma made her mouth water. The
stew was simmering in the pot. It
was ready to eat.
While she began the onerous task of
making coffee, her mother said, “I
hope you remember that some peo-
ple will be coming to see you in the
evening”.
“Yes Amma”.
She thought, “I should be kicked.
How could I have forgotten? A per-
fect day to think of marriage! Those
birds were an ill omen”.
She poured the coffee into a pot
and carried it along with the mugs
to the dining table. Her father was
already there reading the newspa-
per. He looked up from the Sunday
magazine as she appeared and said,
“Why is my Lathakutty looking sad?
Did your mother say something? If
your face is as wilted as it is now,
your engineer won’t marry you. Ha!
Ha!”
“Yes Appa”, she said, forcing a smile
onto her face.
Breakfast was gone without any
hitches. Her parents refrained from
referring to any of the numerous
proposals
that
she kept receiv-
ing from suitors.
She cleared the ta-
ble, washed the dishes
and went to the lounge to
read the Sunday Magazine.
She soon lost herself in a world
of words and by-and-bye she dozed
off.
Her mother’s voice brought her
out of her reverie. “Latha? Latha?
Where are you? Come here and
help me with lunch”.
She looked up groggily and soon
went to the kitchen, still lingering in
her daydream. She hurried because
she would hear an earful if she tar-
ried. She was startled out of her
dream world when she saw the pile
of vegetables on the kitchen count-
er, waiting for her to clean and chop
them. Her mother, not once looking
up, said, “Let’s finish off the work
for lunch first and quickly. Then we
can make some sweets and savories
for our guests. I’ll tell them that you
made them”.
“What a needless waste”, Latha
thought. But her thought did not
hinder her work. “The problem is
that they’ll expect me to be as good