It was a hot summer day in Kerala and a perfect day to visit relatives. My sister tagged along with my parents since there was nothing better to look forward to at home. My mother packed at tin full of cookies and a lovely packet of crème biscuit for our cousin who stayed in a college hostel far away from home. He loved the variety that we got in UAE; it was truly unique if one compared it to the biscuits in India.
My father who was always a multitasker when it came to going places, would go from point A to point B with a dozen stops in between for shopping, delivery, things he wanted for his business and doing things we would never dream of. Mum was always irritated at the sudden stops and the changes in conversation that followed with it. Each one of them tended to lose a track of what the other was discussing.
“What do we get him?” Dad asked as he weaved the Maruthi Omni though the busy potholed roads.
“Well, we are seeing Shibu for the first time, I packed a few goodies” Mum said as she held on to her dear life when the van jumped.
“The reception will not be too grand, for …..” dad’s loud thoughts failed off as a bus from the opposite side blared its horn. His mind was still working on the wedding reception of cousin Nebu for which they had to drop in the next day.
Mum had missed out on the mention of the other cousin during the change of lanes.
My sister listened on to the strange conversation that took place thereafter.
“What does it matter how the reception to his place is?” asked mum puzzled. A boy’s hostel would have limited facilities. She could not figure out why Dad was worried about the reception area. It was not like they were visiting a king.
“Well, we have got to think of what his parents will think of if we don’t give anything at the reception?”
“We are giving him some nice chocolates ….”
Dad gave Mum a look that said ‘How could you be so obtuse?’
“And some nice…”
“Don’t be silly, chocolates will not do…”
“We need something more special, after all we are coming from the Gulf.”
“How about a nice shirt?”
“No! A shirt for the reception! No way”
” Emmm…Chicken puffs..”
“Don’t be silly”
“Let’s take him out for a good meal”
“Mea?l! At this reception?” Dad was thinking of the prominent people at the wedding and the puffs present. He nearly passed out.
“For God’s sake the reception isn’t so grand!” Mum said, thinking of the aging brick structure and moss covered exterior of the hostel she once saw.
“We have a reputation to protect!” said dad as he steered sharp right.
“I give up! You think and say” Mum conceded defeat.
“You think! Am drivings!” Dad muttered. He was steering like a madman.
” Ohhhhh! You re always like this…” Mum felt irritated. The lovely biscuits that she packed were in a huge tin. It looked like a month’s supply of crème delights. Shibu would love them.
The van kept bobbing to sides and my sister felt road sick and queasy. It’s just like being sea sick, except you are in an Omni that is driven on a potholed road by a speed lover with frequent brakes.
“Let’s buy a biscuit!” Dad suggested.
“What! Are you insane? I just packed……” she could not complete her sentence.
Dad screeched to a halt in front of a building with a Bakery and Gold Shop situated next to each other.
My sister and Mum looked a bit disoriented at this point.
“What is the current rate for a biscuit? I hope we get a good rate” he said as he gave Mum a few thousands.
“The maximum will be Rs.100 on the kilo for a good one” Mum replied dryly as she looked at the cash.
“One kilo! Don’t be daft. Who wants a kilo of the biscuit? Buy a small bar”
Mum’s eyes popped out.” A bar of biscuits?!! Is that supposed to be special?”
At this point my sister started to giggle. She kept imagining Shibu getting a gold bar to bite on and Nebu getting a bar of crème biscuits for his wedding.
“Go and select something nice!” dad plodded, without realizing the misunderstanding that was going on.
My mother looked like dad was off his rocker. She kept thinking of the lovely tin in the van as she approached the bakery.
“What are you doing?!” Dad asked when he saw mum asking the cashier for different varieties of crème bites.
“Checking on the Biscuits…just like you told me… a few seconds ago.”
“Yes, but why are you checking in the bakery?”
“Don’t be silly! Where else does one check for it? ”
“At the Gold Shop!”
“Have you lost your mind? Who would check for crème biscuits there?!!”
“Crème Buscuits?!! Why would we gift Nebu those?”
“Nebu? Where did he come from?”
“We have to get him Gold for the wedding reception…”
“Gold for Nebu!?? I was talking about Shibu!”
“Shibu?! Who asked about him?!!”
My sister began to laugh out loud when the Nebu and Shibu questions kept going back and forth.
“Weren’t we going to his place? What were you talking about?” asked Mum.
“We were discussing Nebu’s wedding reception! Not Shibu’s hostel reception!”
In the end, everyone at home came to hear the tale of how the Priceless biscuits delayed Dad by two hours and how Mum had the crème biscuits delivered to the right cousin.
Until the next confusion… confusingly yours….