Stories  
The Forgetful Major
by Debashish Majumdar

“ Sonali and Arjun ,” said mummy, “ Aunt Rekha and Uncle Ratan will be arriving for lunch any moment. It will be a big break for my brother from the army camp.”

“ Fine,” I nodded my head, stealing a rapid glance at the grandfather’s clock hanging upon the dining room wall, “ It’s nearly three o’clock.” I wonder why they are so late,” added Sonali. Just then we heard  the honks of Major Ratan’s pet vintage pig!

“ Ah …we are sorry,” Aunt Rekha apologized profusely, “ Can any of you guess why?”

“ Mummy,daddy, Sonali and I surrendered almost together.

“ I …I had locked up Rekha in her bath…and forgot all about it,”  our battle-scarred Uncle smiled casually.

“ And he has driven his rickety car to your home…well before he remembered me!”

Aunt Rekha was fuming, “ Another bout of forgetfulness and I’ll dump him off!”

“ It must be an effect of the war,” suggested mummy sympathetically.

“ I’ll make it all up,” gulped Uncle Ratan who was so afraid of nurses sticking injections on his huge behind , “ Just you wait and see.”

During lunch, mummy played the CD player and exotic Indian classical music wafted into the room. Uncle ‘ Rat’ batted his eyelids mildly like a chameleon. His mind was seeped in music.

“ Your goaty beard is in the soup!” cried out Aunt Rekha.

“ Oops …I’m sorry,” The Major pulled out his beard like Little Jack Horner. Then he chewed the paper napkin forgetfully like a hungry herbivorous.

“ Poor brother,” spoke mummy sympathetically, “ He used to chew up the house as a three year old. From paper plates to cups and dishes…when he used to be hungry! “

“ Silly antique habits die as one grows older,” Aunt Rekha snapped like a snap – dragon, “ He’s growing older, balder and worse!”

Uncle Ratan had now picked up a home journal. His face lit up like a full moon.

Aunt Rekha thumped his head with a melaware plate.

“ Stop stirring the soup with your long, dirty fingers!” she bawled.

“ Oh well,” said the former army guy , “ I’m using the spoon this time.”

“ The s-p-o-o-n …,” Aunt Rekha barked, “ Leave aside the fork.”

“ Darn it!” exclaimed our uncle, “ Now how can I read this mag without my specs?”

He fumbled in his shirt pocket for his specs.

“ For heaven’s sake!” laughed out daddy, “ You are wearing them.”

” Heck,” said Uncle Rat ,”My world is swimming. I’m seeing four Canadian mountain goats on the mag cover…well, is there two?”

“ There are five mountain goats!” howled Aunt Rekha in despair, “ Don’t you leave yourself out.”

Uncle Ratan blinked at us in disbelief.

“ Ah that’s my specs,” Aunt Rekha’s lava cooled abruptly,” That’s m…y specs! How dare you lay your paws upon it!”

~*~

The next morning Uncle ‘ Rat’ entered the bathroom. It was nearly an hour and he had not checked out.

“ He’s hibernating,” said Auntie Rekha rapping her knuckles upon the bathroom door.

Uncle Rat had flung open the door and was cursing the Indian made cream he had applied upon his cheeks.

“ No foam…nothing!” he said, “ And you call this thing a shaving cream!”

“ Uncle,” I made the sparkling discovery, “ You have applied neem toothpaste on your face.” I pointed out, “ There is the shaving foam!”

Sonali and I were bursting at our seams at our uncle’s carelessness.

Daddy had arrived huffing at the spot of trouble. Ratan was in his underwear.

“ Heck Ratan,” he burst out, “ Where are your trousers?”

“ E..e..e..k..s!” he shrieked, his marble-sized eyes widening with shame and he slammed the door shut.

It was mummy’s turn next. She raised a voice alarm from the kitchen.

We all raced like a bunch of prized horses in a race. Daddy, Aunt Rekha, Sonali and me. In that order.

“ Did the gas cylinder go…burst?” said Sonali.

“ Did you imagine an apparition?” daddy guffawed.

“ Did you slice your finger with the veg knife?” asked Aunt Rekha.

“ Just peep into the pudding bowl!” said mummy. We all did.

“ The Sea of Tranquility,” Aunt Rekha aired her general knowledge about the moon, “ Someone has stepped on the pudding with his fingers!”

“ The astronaut has left his mark upon the crater,” added mummy.

Accusing eyes turned upon Tubby the Cat. Daddy sniffed around for more clues like wise Doctor Watson.

“ The specs!” daddy exclaimed.

“ That’s stinky Rat’s specs under the invaded pudding hillock,” said Aunt Rekha.

She fished it out like an excited Little Jack Horner.

“ Wait till I trap this vociferous giant squid with my own ingenuity!” boasted Aunt Rekha.

“ Leave that half-slurped bowl next to the gas stove,” Aunt Rekha set up an ambush.

“ We’ll catch this greedy squid red-handed and turn him into a blue jellyfish.”

We all felt amused at Aunt Rekha’s words.

We now heard Uncle Ratan whistle the tune from Bridge on the River Kwai as he came marching towards the kitchen.

“ Care for hot coffee anyone?” called out Uncle Ratan.

We looked at each other and smiled deliciously. After all, the mouse was heading for the trap! Aunt Rekha had smartly placed the bait.

“ Oh dear Rat,” said Aunt Rekha stroking his army pet’s ears lavishly, “ I’ll join you for a cuppa. Well…the kitchen is all yours!”

Uncle Rat eyed the remaining pudding once again.

“ Thank you!” he smiled.

Aunt Rekha lined up the whole cheerful, revenge-seeking gang. She was leading from the front with a thick broomstick in her hand.

She said: “ Just wait till I beat the daylights out of this pudding-eating monster.”

“ Should we surprise him now?” asked mummy giggling.

“ Let him relish a few bites first,” planned Aunt Rekha, “ Then we’ll pounce upon him like a bunch of rugby players.”

Aunt Rekha clenched her fists.

“ Ha! Ha! Dumb jellyfish!” We all joined him in chorus.

Uncle Rat was half-snoozing upon a stool. The kettle was on fire! The pudding? Where was the half-pudding? It had been licked clean. The culprit had once again escaped without a trace.

“ Oh Mister Rat has slithered out of my brilliant trap!” sighed his disappointed wife.

Aunt Rekha gripped Uncle Rat’s thick-layered tummy with her sharp fingers ( like a crab’s pincers).

“ Oh tell me darling, where have you put the pudding?”

“ Not inside, I pro –promise…,” muttered the Major who was terribly scared of his podgy wife. He pointed his accusing fingers at Tubby. We all glowered at Tubby. Indeed, there was pudding upon her whiskers, some even upon her thick furry coat.

“ See I was snoozing,” Major Rat proved his innocence, “ The cat licked up the yummy pudding …shee…shee’s lickin’ ‘er lips!”

Uncle Ratan would always put up an Yankee accent whenever he realized he was on the winning side.

“ I’m sorry, Ratan,” said mummy.

“ I’m sorry, dear hubbie,” Aunt Rekha apologized profusely.

“ We’re sorry, Uncle,” said Sonali with guilt in her eyes.

“ I’m almost convinced that good ole’ Rat is not as greedy as he looks,” smiled daddy.

“ I’m not so sure about that,” I whispered to myself.

“ Tubby that was so shameful of you!” Sonali scolded her pet. “ See? We nearly scooped up Uncle Ratan as the pudding-slurper whereas you…”

The cat twitched its tail and purred.

Hardly an hour had struck by, when we heard loud moans and groans from the bedroom.

“ Oh …that’s my dear Rat groaning for sure!” said Aunt Rekha, “ Heck…isn’t that grilled forgetful chicken allergic to eggs?”

And sure enough, there were eruptions like pimples all over the army man’s face and limbs.

“ The pudding, mummy!” I exclaimed, “ I saw you beat the eggs!”

“ Oh …how could I forget…ooow!” Major Rat groped his belly and howled like a wolf.

“ Oh what a clever octopus!” Aunt Rekha danced around her captive like a triumphant cannibal chief.

“ I ate all the pudding…yeooow!” said Uncle Rat, “ I smudged some on that poor cat’s whiskers to hurry the blame on that blinking four-legged puss…oooow!”

“ Meeooow…” blinked Tubby delightfully.

“ Hic! The egg…ugh…hic!” Forgetful Major Greedy Hog replied.

“ I’ll fetch the medicines,” daddy changed the direction of his conversation once again,

“ I just thought he looks like a greedy ogre.”

~*~

“ My mom’s birthday card !” exclaimed Uncle Ratan excitedly.

Sonali and I showed Uncle Ratan the way to the post office.

“ Have you stuck the postage stamps on the envelope?” reminded Sonali.

“ Ofcourse, I have!” Uncle displayed the envelope proudly. “ The stamps have been affixed. Mom’s address is perfect!”

“ Wow!” said Sonali, “ Uncle has not been forgetful for once.”

A week later, grandmom mailed him a fiery reply.

“ Oh Ratan,” she wrote back, “ How dare you have sent me your tax bills on my birthday!”

Uncle Ratan was far from defeated. He had learnt what fighting spirit was all about … from his battle office.

“ I will spring a real big surprise on Rekha,” he winked at my mummy.

“ That’s great!” encouraged mummy, “ She will be so pleased.”

He took a small cash loan from mum. Then rushed to our town’s plushest arcade. He ogled at the mannequins that stood as window display. He plucked off an exquisite salwar suit for Aunt Rekha.

“ Very original, very single!” the counter salesgirl bared her front teeth in a large fondly smile.

“ Thank you, ma’am,” Uncle Major was ecstatic with joy, “ What’s very single.”

“ This dress piece is the only one of its kind…” Then added coyly, “ I’m single too.”

Our Major Uncle arrived home with his gift beautifully wrapped up.

Aunt Rekha clapped her hands in joy.

“ You remembered?” she couldn’t believe her eyes, “ Oh my cherry pudding!”

“ You remembered?” added mummy, “ Oh we’ll never call you forgetful anymore, dear brother Ratan.”

“ As far as memory goes,” cheered daddy, “ You can beat any elephant on earth.”

Aunt Rekha now clasped the most wonderful surprise in years. Then she hugged the army bloke like a Himalayan Snow Bear planting the loudest kiss on the East side of India.

“ The First of July?” reminded Sonali.

“ Yeah …I know that one,” Uncle Rat let out a big smile, “ It’s the Duke of Wellington’s birthday, ofcourse! Think I am a dumbo-saurus or something?”

He nearly lost his very short temper.

Aunt Rekha opened the gift box and screamed: “ Slimy grey-haired Rat…think you are young enough for mischief?”

Uncle Ratan simply could not believe his eyes!

Right in front of him was an empty box. And the exquisite salwar suit?

He shot off to the mall in his rickety jeep.

He was almost in tears. His first big surprise crashed to the floor.

After all, the dress was very original, very single. Another piece would not be available.

“ Gosh!” The salesgirl at the counter did a little jig as soon as she spotted the Major. She said: “ So happy to see you again, Sir.”

“ Where the hell is the very original, very single salwar suit ?” asked Uncle Ratan unbelievingly.

“ I’m so very sorry, Sir,” she apologized profusely, “ See! I had forgotten to put the salwar in the box!”

She spoke in a hushed tone. “ Actually I am so forgetful.”

“ That makes us two of a kind,” the Major smiled.

Uncle Ratan was so excited to find the grand dress that he forgot all about his bits-and-pieces jeep. He hopped into a cab like a kangaroo in a hurry and crashed into our drawing-room.

“ Hey …everybody’s gone crazy!” he screeched, “ Celebrating the Duke’s birthday?”

Aunt Rekha’s birthday party was in full swing.

“ The First Day of July!” howled the Army Lady, “ Is m…m…my b…birthday…disgraceful ,dumb duckling!”

“ That’s why I g-got this b-big s..u…r..p s…u…r…p ..r..i…s…e for you!” He fibbed.

Uncle Ratan’s eyes enlarged to the size of pigeon eggs, his mouth snapped like a tortoise, his face was a scary pale white as he muttered:

“ Oh no…your birth – birthday gift is in the taxi …and my jeep’s at the mall.”

“ Clever croc!” Aunt Rekha howled, “ It’s time you visit a doc.”

What loss of pride. What humiliation. What loss of face.

“ No birthday cake for you!” declared the birthday Girl, “ Remember how greedily you had eaten the pudding?”

“ Oh …please…,” begged Uncle Rat as he smacked his parched lips.

“ Straight to bed tonight,” Aunt Rekha was desperate, “ Back to the army camp you go tomorrow!”

January 27, 2008

Images under license with Gettyimages.com

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