‘Maaaa’ I cried, ‘You are embarrassing me, stop holding my hand, I can walk by myself.’ Dressed in my favourite bright yellow frill dress, inspired from my namesake Ayesha Jhulka’s outfit in Khiladi and my special Baazigar glasses I was feeling all pretty and prim, and I obviously felt that holding hands with my mother would make me look silly.

It was the autumn of 1993 and I was a fourteen year old die hard Bollywood fan, visiting the NRI uncle, my Debashis mama.

‘Ayesha, why are walking all funny? Walk straight,’ my mother instructed.

‘I am not walking funny, the shoes are killing me,’ I muttered, I had of course paired my dress with white high heeled pump shoes with a big gold bow on top. I could feel the blisters popping up on my feet from the new shoes, but my fourteen year old heart was not ready to let go of the fashion I had so carefully crafted for this particular visit.

I adjusted my glasses and pigtails; I was so damn sure I looked like Ayesha Jhulka, and very happy at that, when my mother decided to burst my happy bubble.

‘Now, listen up, when mama asks what do you want to become when you grow up? What will you say?’

I thought for a while, and said, ‘I want to open a shop where you can buy everything. Dresses, shoes, handbags, jewellery, everything and also...’ My mother has stopped midway on the road, so I had to stop too.

She looked at me with horrified eyes, ‘What did you just say?’

I started repeating, ‘I want to open a shop...’

‘Shut up, SHUT UP, this is what you learn at school? Bebsa korbe? You will open a business? Chi chi,’ her eyes which now were as big as rossogollas filled with anger told me my answer was wrong, very wrong. ‘When he asks just say, you want to be a Doctor. Don’t make a fool of yourself in front of Debashisdada, Do you understand?’

‘YY..Yes,’ I gulped.

A tea shop nearby was playing ‘khambe jaisi khadi hai...’and as if on cue my mother said, ‘Now don’t stand like a lamp post, walk, walk straight.’

I hated it when she called me that, or rather anyone called me that, ‘a lamp post’, and well I know I am tall for my age, a five feet five inches tall fourteen year old wasn’t the most common thing in our little town, but it still made me angry hearing those two words.

The rickshaw stand was only a two minute walk from our house, and I had managed to piss my mom off within those two minutes, that’s a record. We were taking the cycle rickshaw to my mamabari, which was just tem minutes ride away, where the entire clan from my mom’s family resided. My mother’s side of the family was huge; they were three sisters and four brothers. So you can imagine what the reunion was like every time an occasion came up.  Debu mama was the only one who was a Doctor and had gone abroad, so was treated like royalty whenever he came back. My only relief was some of my other cousins would be there to share my agony and hopefully we’ll have a fun time. I hated not having a brother or sister of my own, mom’s wrath would have been split if I had one, she had too much time to focus on ... just me..., I sighed.

Mom snapped, ‘Why are you sighing so loudly? Trying to be dramatic?’ I rolled my eyes, it was one of those days, whatever I did would make Ma angry.

*****

Debu mama, who lived in UK with his Scottish wife and half scot-half Indian bratty twin boys, visited every three to four years, and the entire family went crazy trying to please him. I had no idea why! Last time he came I was ten, and I vaguely remember everyone decking up to greet him, trying to speak bad English and feeding him lots of good food.

Good job, he came alone this time, leaving his family back in UK. Or else it would have been worse for us kids, trying to impress the ‘phoren’ mami by singing, dancing, reciting and what not. At least this time the showcasing would be limited to our report cards only. I grinned to myself; I had nothing to fear there, my academic report card was pretty damn good. Ma had xeroxed the report card and folded it inside her purse, and I was damn sure she would wave it front of Meetu maasi like some kind of prize whenever she got the chance, for her son Bhuto was a know it all and a huge favourite with the entire family and also my arch rival.

My reverie was broken with a loud shriek and a thwakkk sound, and before I could realise what was happening  I flew out of the rickshaw and landed face first on the ground, and everything went dark.

******

As I opened my eyes, I found many blurry faces hovering over me, I could hardly see without my glasses. I asked ‘ami kothay?’ in a daze... ‘Where am I?’

‘Natok koris na,’ Snap came my mother’s reply, ‘Don’t be dramatic, you just fell off the rickshaw when the motorbike hit it from behind.’ I realised we were at my mamabari already. Someone must have lifted me from the place of action to the house of actions. Someone handed me my glasses which were wonky, but at least my vision became clear.

‘Damn’ I cursed, and looked down at my dress, it was torn at parts and totally filthy. I started crying loudly.

‘Abar ki holo?’ my mother asked impatiently.

‘My dress, it’s ... it’s torn,’ I sobbed. ‘and covered in muck.’

‘Well you looked like a ripe banana in it, good job it’s torn,’ this time Bhuto replied, and I shot him a nasty look between my sobs. ‘hehehe.... ekdom paka kola r moton... hehhe.’ I wanted to punch his stupid face, but my horror of ruining my beautiful dress overcame the sense of revenge and continued crying with loud sobs.

‘Wear these’ my mom threw an orange t shirt and a pair of shorts towards me, which from the look of it belonged to Bhuto, my stupid, irritating cousin. The outfit was so wrong and a size too big for me. I had no choice but to change into it as my dress was not only torn but also covered in filth. Bhuto sniggered the moment he spotted me... ‘From a ripe banana to an orange lamp post, what a journey,’ I now punched him, well actually punched the air, for he was way too fast for me, and ran away sniggering and hurling more insults my way.

As I came down stairs Mithun was coming upstairs singing at the top of his voice ‘Pyar ke kagaz pe dil ki kalam se pehelibaar saalam likha.....’  He stopped midway of his horrific singing, he was the eldest and the most filmy of all our cousins. ‘My God, Ayesha, what happened? You look like Shakti Kapoor, and not in a good way at all!!!’

‘Idiot’ I muttered and left him alone to snort.

*****

Things went well until lunchtime was over, then it was the showcase your child time. All the grownups sat in a semi circular order facing the almighty debu mama, who now stretched lazily on the high divan, looking bored and jetlagged. ‘So which is which?’ he added  ‘I always get confused, the brood seems to get bigger every time I visit.’

And thus it began.

First up was Mithun, the eldest, whose mother fidgeted and threw in a great display of mother-son love and spectacular show of my-son-is-god act. When asked by Debu mama what he wanted to become when he grew up pat came the reply ‘Doctor’ and a round of pleased sighs and nods of approval followed at the rehearsed answer.

One by one the cousins were taken down and cross examined by Debu mama, every single one of them answered ‘Doctor’ trying to please him. I was in a bad mood already due to my ruined dress, and when I was put on the spot light, I couldn’t resist being a bit snappy.

My mother started proudly, ‘Ayesha, is doing wonderfully in school Debuda, all straight A’s as you call in London.’ positively gloating, I stole a glance at Meetu masi who face was dark.

‘I don’t live in London, I live in Cheshire’ he corrected my mom.

‘Same thing’ She said smiling.

‘So what do you want to become beta? Asked Debu mama sighing at my mother, and returning to my future plans.

‘A lamp post,’ Bhuto butted in... A round of sniggers rang across the room, Irritated I decided to take it a notch further.

I looked at my ma who was looking at me as if I was one of the Miss India contestants just about to give my final round speech, she mouthed, ‘I want to be a doctor.’

I flashed a grin at her and replied ‘I want to open a store where you can buy everything, clothes, jewellery, shoes, everything.’

‘Hain...’ My mothers’ jaw had dropped and almost on the verge of hitting the floor, a round of laughter was running through the room, Bhuto was rolling on the floor laughing, Meetu masi looked like she was about to do her victory dance. I knew I’ll have to pay later for my cheekiness, but I was mad at my mother for parading me like a show doll and wanted to settle things straight.

Suddenly Debu mama said, ‘How wonderful, an entrepreneur in the family, I was so bored of hearing the same answers from everybody,’ looking at my mother he added, ‘Neetu your daughter is brave, she has the courage to stand up say what she wants to do rather than follow everyone else, am very pleased. You are bringing her up well.’

‘Come here beta,’ He said, unsure at the turn of events I went near him and he put a hundred rupee note on my palm, ‘This is for your store, your first investment.’

I turn around to face my mother, now her gobsmacked appearance was replaced by moist eyes and a proud face, I rolled my eyes, my mother was filmier than I ever will be.

As I went to sit next to my mother I looked at Bhuto with a smile as big as my face could afford, and said, ‘So what do you want to become when you grow up?’ Bhutos’ face darkened and the room filled with laughter.