“Percy! Where is that
good-for-nothing, lazy, gormless, useless son of mine?”
“I’m right here, mother. And I’m
your only son.”
“And I have lived to regret it, God
knows. Where were you?”
“Sitting in the window. Anyway,
what’s the matter?”
“Take a look at this.”
“What?”
“On the laptop, see that mail.”
“Looks like your pension slip. Your
Bank must have e-mailed it to you.”
“They never e-mailed me a pension
slip before.”
“Which…makes this a good start?”
“Ok, what’s the figure there?”
“That’s the gross amount – here on
the right side we have the net amount that gets credited to your account. At
least I hope it does.”
“Not bad, is it.”
“Yes, mother, as you’ve said
roughly a hundred and fifty times since you retired, you have a very generous
pension.”
“I make more than you do, don’t I?”
“Not when I was working, of course!
I’ll have you know I was a highly-paid…”
“Didn’t Shobha Kamath’s son-in-law
make much more than you?”
“I don’t know how much Shobha
Kamath’s son-in-law makes, mother.”
“No, but he bought a house in Pune
and then one in Thane.”
“Shobha Kamath’s daughter earns
well too, mother. I suppose between them they can raise a lot of money in home
loans.”
“But you have to earn well to get a
home loan.”
“And I could have got a home loan
too, mother, but seriously - only a mug would invest in real estate in the
current scenario.”
“You keep saying that, but Kersi
Dabhodiwala’s son sold their flat in Vikhroli for over a crore!”
“Good for him. Not so good for
whoever bought it. He’ll be lucky if he makes a rental that’s half a fourth of
his EMI.”
“Ok, ok. You and your ideas. Ok,
what is that figure there?”
“Annual pension.”
“How do they know my annual pension
in August?”
“They take the monthly amount and
multiply it by twelve.”
“But it will increase this year,
no? And then arrears and…”
“A software prints this, mother. It
applies a mathematical formula.”
“But that looks so less!”
“It’s a lakh, not a thousand.”
“Oh yes, that’s right! Not bad, is
it?”
“Yes, mother, as we have now
established beyond reasonable doubt, you have a very generous pension.”
“Why don’t we put some of our
savings together and buy a flat in a distant suburb?”
“And what do you define as a
‘distant suburb’? Santa Cruz?”
“No, no, I meant like Mira Road or
something.”
“Mother, we could never live in
Mira Road.”
“Not to live, I meant as an
investment.”
“Were you not listening to anything of what I was just saying?”
“Yes, yes. Ok, ok. No real estate.”
“Anything else you needed?”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s not like I
can expect you to want to just sit and talk to your poor old mother for a
while.”
“Didn’t we just establish that you
have a generous pension?”
“Arey that is fine, but I’m still
poor in spiritual matters because my son won’t even spend a few minutes talking
with me. Such days I am seeing at my age…”
“What age? You were crowing just
last week about how you walked to Wadala Market and then walked back with five
kilos of fish in your hands. You’re sprightlier than girls my age.”
“How do you know that? You weren’t
here!”
“I have you in my Facebook
friend-list, mother. If you put up these gloating updates on social media, they
will be noticed.”
“Ok, ok fine. Mister Percy is all
smart and stuff. Never thought I’d see the day! Such talk-backing you do now. You
were such a sweet obedient child!”
“Not really, you called me some
pretty nasty things even then, so I must’ve been rather a pain to you.”
“Meh, that’s true.”
“Fine. Let me know when lunch is
ready.”
“All you do is eat and sleep!”
“I’m writing, mother.”
“Yes, yes, fine. But what are your
plans exactly? Will you be looking for a job or will you be trying to do some
bizness-vizness?”
“I got published too, you know.”
“Acha, in that magazine thing you were posting about on Facebook?”
“Yep.”
“See, I see you on Facebook too. Why
didn’t you show it to me? Give me a printout.”
“Why would I show it to you?
Anyway, if you really want to read it, the download link is in my post…it’s
quite a good story, a lot of people have been saying really nice things about
it – strangers, at that, complete strangers have been praising my writing, you
know! Let me tell you what one of them said…”
“Yeah yeah, that’s all fine, but
when are you going to start looking for a job? Are you going to look for a Bank
job only, or…?”
“Mother, I left a Bank job because
I had begun to hate myself more than I hated the job. I think I’d rather not
jump into anything right now…”
“How long will you explore options?
What do I tell people? Pernaz Vakil was asking just yesterday, what is your
Percy doing? And so was Sylloo Udwadia. What answers will I give them? As it is
they look down upon me because I am not pure-Parsee like them.”
“Tell them I’m a writer.”
“Ugh no, they’d laugh me out of the
rummy club!”
“Mother, what does it matter…I’ll
manage. I’m not asking you for money, am I?”
“I don’t know WHAT I am going to do
with you.”
“Would you rather I moved out?”
“Where will you go? You won’t buy a
house, so where will you go?”
“I don’t know, probably Bogota.”
“Bogota? What are you talking
about? What were you involved in in US? Did you – what was that girl’s name?
Anjali?”
“Angela, mother.”
“Yes yes, same thing. Is she a
Colombian drug dealer’s moll? Were you a drug dealer?”
“Does anyone actually use the word
‘moll’ any more?”
“Answer the question, bloody
idiot.”
“No, she wasn’t a moll, to the best
of my knowledge.”
“Because if she is, I forbid you
from talking to her!”
“She is not, and you can’t forbid
me from talking to her. This isn’t the nineteenth century and I’m not a minor.”
“Arey, then start behaving like a grown-up. Get a job!”
“I’m going for a walk instead.”
“It’s raining outside.”
“Good, maybe I’ll catch pneumonia.”
“No you won’t, if I know you at
all. But you should buy half-a-kilo of onions, a packet of kasuri methi and two
hundred grams of green chillies. Make yourself useful!”
“Yes, mother.”
“And feed the cats.”
“I am NOT going to feed the cats.
Get Dilbur to do it!”
“Dilbur has a job. She’s gone to
her lawyer’s office.”
“Fine, I’ll feed the cats too.”
“Well, go! Don’t sit here and waste
my time. I have to Skype with Kernaaz in Boston.”
“Good bye, Mother.”
“Aren’t you gone yet, you useless,
good-for-nothing…”
Half the time, I was imagining Boman getting the tongue lashing in Happy NY, and the rest of the time I had to stop myself chuckling until my sides hurt. Keep writing, Percy?
ReplyDeleteMust have read this four times already. It's not just that the dialogues are funny, you have written them in a way that makes one clearly imagine the frustrated yet calm expression on your face as you say them.
ReplyDeleteFunny, yes. But sad at the same time. :)
Ha Ha Ha. This was just too good.
ReplyDeleteHahaha! Percy - THAT was fun; and sort of resonated also at the end with the people close to you ignoring your writing bit :) For me, without the consolation of perfect strangers... :)
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