Life With The Manchanda Clan

I was content living in my blissfully ignorant bubble of being the bratty younger sibling in a modern and open-minded Indian family. I am not speaking of my entire family, just my immediate one, my ma-pa, my twin sister and my didi. They are a happy lot in general who love hanging out with each other and me. I am the typical sullen teenager of the family. The one who grunts instead of talking. The one who groans at the onset of family outings. The one who has fights with everyone.

My twin likes to tell me it’s because I have the brain of a rodent or that I want to create a sense of macho-ness and I am scared of becoming girly since I have two sisters but probably more because of the rodent thing.

At this remark, I usually grunt out exactly how much of a shit I give, which is none. Don’t get me wrong- I love my parents. They are the coolest parents any awkward teenager can have but I just can’t be expected to show it to them much.

My didi is a sweetheart who loves both of her younger siblings and it kills me every time Avani(my twin Avantika) shouts at her or calls her fat or less pretty. This is when I shout at Avani in return about projecting her failings out loud and blaming didi with them. But didi doesn’t mind. I think its because did knows she isn’t fat or ugly. She’s gorgeous.

She get’s it for my ma, who is also beautiful. The only one who didn’t get the beauty in our family is Avi. She acts out by being a bitch about it. The only thing she has going for her are those dimples that she has. Even I have those, as a matter of fact. Thought I think it’s because my ma’s younger sisters, my mausis, have pulled my cheeks like it’s nobody’s business since as far as I can remember. They kept telling Ma. ‘ Haye, inna handsome banega didi ye toh. The girls will be queuing up, dekh lena tussi.’ (he's going to be so handsome, you wait and see.)

Safe to that they weren’t that far off. I reached my father’s height of 6 ft 2” in the summer of my 15th year much to Avani’s envy who is 5 ft 9”. Which is very tall for a country in which the average height is 5 ft for a female. I am ‘quite the catch’ in school like my sister likes to tell my ma after cribbing about how she missed out in the gene pool in the looks section. To which my ma replies, that at least she isn’t the twin who missed out on the intelligence. This is when Avani gets cheery and spends the entire day by referring to me as ‘that fat rodent’. Didi also tells me that I look like an indian Ryan Gosling to which Avani groans and claws at her ears as mutters like a crazy woman. “Why didn’t I DIE before I heard that crude comparison? My poor Ryan Gosling. You should be ashamed didi. ASHAMED.”

I play cricket at school and my coach loves me. I can tell by the special reserve of abuses he has just for me.

Currently, I am sitting in our living room looking at the slimy bastard who’s come to see my didi with an offer for marriage. He’s 26 but looks like he’s 45. He’s got a potbelly coming on. Even looks prone to early baldness. Like hell I am going to let my beautiful didi marry this fatass.

“Atharv!” My Ma screeches at me. Probably indicating the scowl forming on my face by looking at the fatass.

“Haan, Ma?” The scowl leaves my face as I take in my ma’s stormy expression. I gulp. “Bolo.”

“Go see what Avani is doing. Whether the tea is ready or not.” She says. She makes a sideways head movement. It’s a signal to get the hell out of here.

I barely restrain the sigh of relief as I get up and leave the room. She throws me one last evil look before turning back to the guests. My father is talking to the old man who has fathered the fatass.

I reach the kitchen. My twin is pouring tea out in cups from the kettle via a sieve. She has her phone tucked between her ear and shoulder and is laughing at something the person on the other end much have said. She doesn’t see me standing.

“And then he said that he LOVES me. I was like what the fuck man I don’t even know you. That is the problem with these stupid juniors they don’t even know the difference between a crush and love.”

The person on the other end said something else, which made Avani snort out loud.

“Totally.” She says. She suddenly notices my presence. At first she just ignores me and gets a tray from the bartan-rack.

“Arrey, The rodent has entered the kitchen, I’m going to check on the cheese reserve, call me later, okay?” She says into the cell phone. Then she keeps it keeps it aside and turns to me. “Haan, Chuhe, kuch chaida hai? Or do you like to stare at people when they go about their lives like a stalker?”

“Ma ne cha lene bheja hai.” I say. “I’ll take the tray out.”

She nods absently and gestures to it. “Yeah, take the biscuits and namkeen too, okay? Then go check on Chitra di. I have some important stuff to do.” I roll my eyes. Then she proceeds to fill said items into two rarely used decorative bowls, puts them on to a separate tray and tells me to take them. She ruffles my hair and walks over to her room, which is right next to the kitchen. This fact has been the juice behind a lot of eating-related jokes I’ve come up with in reference to Avani over my childhood years.

I pick up the tray and see that she’s left her phone on the black granite counter. I pocket it.

I take the tea out. The fatass’s mother smiles at me. She has a huge gap between her teeth and her hair is practically orange due to all the henna she obviously uses. I give her a blank stare and keep the tray down on the table. The men are smoking cigars in the veranda. I can’t believe that Pa took out his expensive cigars for that man. I walk out and let the conversation flow as awkwardly as ever.

I knock on didi’s door. She calls out. “Kon hai?”

“Can I come in, di?” I ask. My mother hates the fact that the only person I talk to nicely is didi, not her or pa or Avani. Well, didi is didi. Even now in my school, teachers recall Chitrangada Manchanda with a fond smile. It’s been 6 years since she passed out.

“Yeah, it’s open.”

I open the door and see that she’s busy typing away on the computer. She’s still in her animal-print night suit. Her hair is in a bun. She seems unaware of the freshly ironed sari that has been spread temptingly on her bed by Ma.

“A guy has come to see you. Aren’t you at least going to take a bath?” I say, but not without amusement.

“No.” She says. “I told Ma that I don’t want to get married this year. She’s going to embarrass herself if she tries to control my life.”

I shift the sari and sit on the bed. “ I was just going to tell you how ugly the chap is, so I guess I might as well go to sleep.”

Didi turns the rotating chair towards me and laughs. “ Seriously? Tell me then. Exactly how ugly is this prospective suitor of mine?”

“He’s fat and gifted with a receding hairline.”

She looks mischievous and horrified for a moment before she excitedly grabs a towel and hurries to take a bath. “I have brilliant plan for a prank. Get Avani and come back in 20 minutes.”

‘’O-kay.” I say, feeling excited and confused. Didi’s pranks are the best.