Preethi Venugopala: Condition Serious hai

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Chronicles of Aunty Acid

My earliest memory of Aunty Acid still manages to make me cringe. It was just a long and crazy day, that day more than two decades ago. I had joined my gang of friends in a game of hopscotch in the barren land near her house.

“With the skin color that you have, no one worthy will ever marry you. Only fair girls get the best grooms,” she shouted at me ending her prediction with a maniacal laughter. I ran off crying, cursing the skin I was born with and wondering what prompted her to bug me in that way in front of my friends.

May be she was speaking from her experience, given that she was at least five shades darker than I was.

My granny fumed when I narrated what had happened and then came near me armed with a few red chilies and a pinch of salt. She moved them in a few circles around me, muttering some mantras and then threw them in fire.

“There burn all the negativity she spewed on you. Phew...See how much powerful her venom is?!!” said granny watching them spluttering and fume.

Nevertheless, the ritual did not prevent me from having a nightmare about being married to an alcoholic, wife-beating husband like that of Aunty Acid and wake up screaming. It haunted me for a long time and I thought no one would ever love me.

Years passed and Aunty Acid continued to belch poison on others and me. Kids avoided her like plague; her words were like Acid and left an indelible mark. We all unanimously agreed that someone with his or her brain in the right place had named her Aunty Acid.

There was a rumor that, if she caressed a plant lovingly, it wilted the next day. If she praised anyone, instead of being happy, the object of her praise panicked. Such was the terror.

When I was awaiting my entrance results, she told me I did not stand a chance. Reason being that her daughter, who was doubly intelligent than me, had not cracked it. Again, fate proved her wrong and like everyone, I started to covet her negative comments.

One day during my semester exam time, Aunty Acid declared that no sane person would marry an arrogant girl like me after I declined to visit her, leaving my studies halfway through. My parents beamed hearing it. That was a positive sign indeed.

Source

After our engagement, with my heart threatening with a heart attack, I heard my fiance answer my query that he does not drink, not even socially. Phew…. I thanked Aunty Acid heartily. From then on, I deliberately made Aunty Acid angry, praying secretly that she erupt like a volcano.

Aunty Acid predicted my marriage will end within a year and that I will not ever have peace in my husband’s house.

I celebrated my tenth wedding anniversary last year and my in-laws still dot on me.

Aunty Acid still grinds her teeth when she sees me and I eagerly await the blessings that are about to be showered on me.

This time when I visited her, I went with a bag full of Cadbury 5 star, with a selfless aim to cure her acid tongue.

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To my dismay, I hear she cannot eat them any more. Diabetics is the culprit.

Who knows how many future generations she will bless with her acid tongue. Our whole village predicts she will outlive most of us. Such is the strength of her negativity.

May be after her death, a temple will come up in place of her grave. There, people will pray in antonyms.

I have even written down a few prayers.

“Make me bankrupt…Aunty Acidaya namah (11 times)”

“Make me ill… Aunty Acidaya namah (101 times)”

“Make me sad… Aunty Acidaya Namah ( 1001 times)”