Double Trouble! 

She was born straight out of an Indian matrimonial advertisement. Petite, with white, flawless skin, paired with sparkling eyes and wild, curly hair, both dark as night. In perfect contrast to her ethereal complexion. Pert and cute with a smile to melt the sternest heart….the stuff dreams are made of.

Until one looked deeper into her eyes.

And did they spell trouble - with a big T!

Fierce and independent, they warned of a will that did not and would not ever pay adoring obeisance before the altar of a lord and master (read Husband). She had a mind of her own and no mother’s son was going to tame her.

And that’s how it has been. She has lived life on her own terms from the word go.

She was all of 1 year old when I married her Mamu (maternal uncle) and consequently acquired the mantle of ‘Mami’ to her. It was at our wedding itself that I witnessed with awe her conducting the choir from her father’s arms. She was in her own world, supremely confident that the universe was her oyster and saw no incongruity in a tiny tot dictating the music to a bunch of adults. She waved her arms with perfect synchronicity, a beatific smile on her face, only to have it change to a fierce frown when she felt a note was out of place. All the while, the merry twinkle in her eyes, spoke of mischief personified. It was love at first sight for me.

Have I mentioned her fierce attachments and loyalty? Family was a given. And then there were the familial canines! I recall her one fine morning, deep in thought as she travelled in our (in)famous Jonga, her arm around the neck of our dog (appropriately named Shaitan, which means “the devil”!). After more than an hour of fierce concentration, she announced, with the air of a prophet who had arrived at an epiphany,” So Mami’s niece is my cousin by marriage, but Shaitan is my brother by blood”!!! 

Needless to say, my husband and I gravely nodded with one accord.

They say it is imperative to understand the protagonist in order to enjoy the tale. So, having set the stage for our saga, let me proceed without delay.

As we all know, every Indian female child goes through a rite of passage…..the piercing of her ears. It is a time honoured tradition and usually proceeds seamlessly when one is just short of one’s 7^th year. And so, we thought would be the case with our young heroine.

On the day of reckoning, off she set with her Masi (mother’s sister) to the jeweler’s, to have said auditory organs duly punctured. She hopped, skipped and jumped all the way, as was her wont, and merrily toodled into the hapless man’s store. Hapless you say? Patience dear reader. All will soon be revealed.

As they sauntered in, the jeweler readily came forward and expressed delight when informed about the task at hand. Promising to complete it in a jiffy, he grabbed the gold wire, picked up our bairn, sat her on the counter, reached for her ear and jabbed the wire through.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

No one had informed our rug rat that the piercing of ears involves a modicum of discomfort. In her tiny brain, the said task was all accomplished with great elan and the wave of a magic wand. So you can well imagine her unmitigated horror when she realized that the magic was missing altogether….and there was more suffering to come! As you can well envision by now, said sprog was not one to take things lying down! (Actually, when I think of it, she did take it lying down, but in quite inverse measure to what the famous phrase usually implies.)

Before her poor Masi could say “Willie Wonka”, our young babe had hopped off the counter and flung herself down on the floor. Once in a suitably supine position, she proceeded to let loose the hounds of war. Even Mark Antony could not have conceived of what followed. 

First came the blood curdling wail. (5 shops away, a customer lost his hearing.) Then came the thrashing of arms and feet. So fierce was the flailing that one tiny shoe was flung loose and went zooming across the room, narrowly missing the offending shopkeeper (and that was only because the braveheart was, at the time, cowering behind the counter in full ‘fraidy-cat mode). The climax was the deep puce shade that the convulsing tot acquired. Such was her rage, that even Mars, the God of War, swiftly hopped off his throne and sought shelter behind the imposing structure, peeping out in consternation at the carnage below that he was quite sure he had not ordered.

And in the midst of this chaos stood the bewildered Masi, closely resembling a tornado hit victim.

Between wails, the said lady seized her opportunity and scornfully said,” Oh come on Mia (the name has been changed in the interest of anonymity. The lass is now a married woman), get up and get the job finished!”

Now one would think that such scathing words as these would dry up the flow and lead to a meek conclusion.

Au contraire, dear reader. Be not fooled. Our babe is made of sterner stuff. Without missing a beat, she let loose her second missile (read shoe) which this time around found a hapless pedestrian who happened to be peeking in to witness for himself the 3^rd World War raging within the confines of a 10 x 6 foot space! The last we saw of the said on-looker, was a pair of shoes rising upward, attached to a hurling body flung backwards, thanks to the force of the said projectile.

Swiftly changing tactics, Masi tried coaxing, moved to cajoling and finally resorted to full-fledged pleading,” PLEASE Mia. Let him pierce the other ear!”

But a mule is nothing compared to my niece’s militant mutiny. Turning her face towards her hapless aunt, she let loose the final volley from her fully stocked arsenal…..a tear trickled down a woe begone countenance, followed by a hiccup.

Enough said. The battle was won. Without more ado, the routed aunt picked up her charge and began marching her back home.

With one ear pierced.

I will not sully your ears, dear reader, with the threats that ensued all the way back. Suffice to say that ‘closely resembling a thundercloud’ was putting it mildly when it came to the long suffering relative who had quite clearly reached the end of her long suffering tether.

On reaching their joint abode, the door was flung open, the offending minor rudely propelled into the room, closely followed by her fulminating relative. Into the thunderstruck silence came the climactic declaration, ”I shall NEVER take this &@#$%* child out ever again, so help me God”!!!

As for Mia….righting herself with agile dexterity, she flung herself pathetically into her father’s ever welcoming arms and declared in tones that parallelled her aunt’s in direness, ”She hurt me!”

And that’s when yours truly ambled into the room. Taking in the awful silence and the dueling duo, my eye fell upon the earingless ear, and without missing a beat interestedly inquired..”Where’s the other earring?”!!!

Hell hath no fury than a thwarted aunt. The silence gave way to a litany of complaints and out poured the heartbreaking story. Or that’s what she thought. Unfortunately for the self-proclaimed victim, the family she belongs to is not known for its sympathetic strain. Bring up or be one of 5 children and you quickly become inured to the most heart wrenching of tales. So instead of a balming, soothing clucking, said aunt found herself at the receiving end of a hail of laughter followed by a series of interrogatives demanding details of the entertaining escapade!

Now when it comes to the youngsters in our family, for some unfathomable reason, my husband and I are the final court of appeal. Once all the intricacies of the episode had been fully gleaned, hashed over and enjoyed to the fullest, the head of the family (my dearly loved and respected father-in-law) turned to me and instructed, ”Beta (daughter), get it done”.

You can imagine my consternation!

But all’s well that ends well. In complete counterpoint to the hell that had been let loose, our little one came along with me like a lamb, hopped up onto the counter herself and presented her unpierced ear to the terrified  shopkeeper with perfect equanimity. It took quite a bit of assuring, but he was finally convinced to complete his task and reaching very, very tentatively for the young lady’s shell shaped ear, he gingerly proceeded to spike it, following which he stepped smartly backwards and adroitly placed the counter between himself and the  mighty mouse. To his confusion, the terror of an hour before, thanked him prettily, about turned and trotted back home with me peacefully, where she proceeded to proudly present her ear to one and all!

I shall leave you, dear reader with a picture of the offended aunt looking suitably aghast at the compliments being showered on the chirpy heroine. She then looked at me and asked, “How did you do it?!”

But I think you will agree with me that one should never give away one’s secrets. So I sauntered out of the room in silence and to this day no one is privy to the threat of a sound thrashing that was issued before we departed for our destination. 

The fact that our little one is never quite sure what I am capable of, has its own advantages!!