Butter

 Now I am orphaned. And all because of some butter. 

Baba always had breakfast with me before I went to school. Toast, boiled eggs and his tea. The egg had to be perfectly boiled, eight minutes only, if it was more the yolk would get hardened and if it was less than eight minutes then it would be runny and almost raw. The toast had to be hard, not the soggy nonsense you get after cooling, not blackened either. The butter would be laid on the table, soft to the cut of the knife. He likes things in order, he would always tell me "Biju if there is no discipline, things would fall apart, there would be no sun every morning and no fruits on the tree". And he is right, that's what my mother would say. At least just tell him he is right, she would add. 

When someone doesn't listen to him, things get ugly and I have seen it first hand. If I mess up something, I am sent to the dark room. It is not a special room, our house is not so big. It is just a room but the lights are put out. I can't see anything and everything seems to be closing in on me. I can hear Aai, my mother, pleading with him to let me go. But Baba is relentless when it comes to disciplining. Like the other day when Aai made his eggs to soft so he dropped the hot yolk on her palm. I was sure it was painful, but she said it is fine. She is very brave. When I came back from school, I saw the blister on her palm, but she said she should have been more careful. Those times were good, when Baba was not home. She would be happy and laughing, listening to radio and even dancing if her favorite song came on. 

Last month during Ganpati festival Aai danced the lavni for the function downstairs. She looked so beautiful, everyone praised her. Baba came home late that night. Aai had put me to sleep early hoping he would also give her come words of compliment, but he took her to the dark room. I don't know what was her mistake but next morning I saw her lip was swollen and her right eye was black. She was shakily putting some powder to cover it when I woke up. When Chandru's mother asked her what happened she lied "I fell down in the bathroom"

Aai did not want to trouble anyone. She did not tell my grandparents when they asked. They did not tell my aunt. She would tell me nothing happened, and all the time I think she was just lying to herself. She loved Baba so much, she was sure he would be better one day. And some days he was. Some days he would take us out to movies, buy her flowers and we would go to the beach. 

But then Aai would miss something like today morning. I think she had forgotten to put the butter in the fridge and it had stayed out the entire night. When Baba cut into it with the knife, it was dripping and when he tried to maneuver it to his toast a giant blob fell on the table. Baba grimaced, as if in actual physical pain. I was sitting across from him and I looked at his face and knew this was not good. Aai came running from the kitchen "What happened??"

He looked at her and pushed away his plate of food with so much force that a little bit of the tea spilled on the table. He got up and got hold of her braid. Aai always braided her hair before going to sleep. She gave a little yelp and apologized for a crime she was not aware of yet. Generally a profuse apology would get her out of such sticky situations, but today he was in a one of his moods. There was some pushing and shoving. She tried to get away a couple of times as well. But then he started shouting abuses that Aai would generally tell me were very bad words and never to be used. Baba was abusing her and even my grandfather. Last week, my grandparents had paid a visit and when they visit they subtly mention that Baba should treat Aai better, but they don't know that it always has a very opposite effect to what they expect. Instead of putting a balm on a bruise they are actually inadvertently adding fuel to fire. 

The abuses continued. When such situations occur, I just silently take my bag and go to school. I did the same. I picked up my bag and opened the main door and stepped out to the corridor outside the house. As I gently closed the door behind me I remembered I had not taken the keys. I was hesitant to enter the house again to fetch them considering the tumult in progress, so I stopped there for a moment to think what I should do. In the chawl there are no secrets, our homes are adjacent to each other and the walls hardly contain any sound. Chandru from the adjoining house had stepped out and was wearing his shoes, tying his shoelaces very slowly. It appeared he was listening to what was going on in my house and lapping up each word with utmost relish. Baba was a guidebook for cuss words and Chandru was a diligent student in that department. Chandru's mother stepped out handing him his tiffin box and giving me a look of pity. I decided I will go ahead without the keys, when suddenly the door to my house opened and Baba came out in a huff, pulling Aai by her hair, she was not her composed self either, she was disheveled and crying. Chandru's mother tried to intervene as Baba continued the beating in public. I stood there, my face turning hotter by the minute as I saw Chandru enjoying the show from the corner of my eye. This had never happened before, no matter what, Baba kept it in the confines of the home. Chandru's mother went inside to call her husband, people from the other houses were also peeking out. Baba pulled her along as she sat down on the floor, resisting him, he reached the stairs and that's when he slipped and fell. 

Chandru's father called the doctor, they said he broke his neck. Chandru's father bought me an ice cream, he is not angry like Baba. He was telling Chandru's mother in whispers that now I am orphaned.