The Gurgling Toilet Ghost
We are at Nani — Nana’s¹ house and it is haunted. Of course, it wasn’t always like this, it all happened today and it is because Mummy did what she had to, before letting me take care of the situation. I used to love my time here but now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sleep because the ghost is cawing in my ear and no one else can hear it.
It has been raining cats and dogs (lol, who came up with that?) since yesterday and everything exciting is shut. Nana and I can not go to the market to eat our favourite ice cream, lanky Lalu bhaiya² who sells the best aalo-tikki³ and dahi-chaat⁴ on his pushcart, has vanished from his corner spot, hefty Hoshiyar halwai⁵ who makes spicy, crispy samosas has moved his giant wok (which is the same size as his bulging belly) from under the tarpaulin canopy to a dark tiny corner inside his shop, where he can not fry the crusty snacks because that would burn down the building! (Nani told me the story of how the smells of sweet sugary, salty delights lingered in the air for days when Hoshiyar halwai had a fire-accident in his shop.) The only person who can go on with his life with no hassles is Lobo. He goes for his morning, afternoon, evening and night-time walks without fail and nothing can stop him. Nani makes faces when he walks in the house with muck on his legs and his belly and sits beside her, but she does that countless other times during the day for no particular reason.
In the morning today, I was utterly bored after spending hours with Nani teaching her how to solve the Sudoku, mould a clay-dough tyrannosaurus, and fold origami cranes. I wanted to do something more exciting. After lunch, Nana and I decided to play chess. I asked Gaurav if he would help Nana because Nana is always in a rush to play his turn and does not think before moving his pieces. While in my turn, I write down battle plans, chart out all possibilities for all my pawns, knights, bishops, rooks and even the queen and then do the same for my opponent. (I am practising playing like Kasparov.) I didn’t want Nana to lose. He gets grumpy when that happens and today there weren’t any hot samosas or butterscotch ice cream to console him. But Gaurav, like always was listening to howling humans and blasting drums on his headphones and banging his head violently in the bedroom. He was hopeless.
Nana and I set out the marble chess pieces and swiftly moved through our first few turns. After thirty minutes or so Nana knocked five of my pawns, one knight and both the bishops while keeping most of his pieces intact. He was getting good at this. I drew comprehensive pathways for each of my strained pieces which obviously took time. I had to be thorough. Nana thought that a quick nap would help him figure out his strategy. A little later, when I had a game plan, Nana was still figuring out his, by slipping further into the chair, stretching his feet on the stool and softly snoring. I thought of letting him be. I pleaded with Mumma to play with me but she was busy reading, I asked Nani to tell me a story about aliens, but she did not know any, I would have asked Gaurav but he was still locked in the bedroom and Lobo was dozing off and nothing could budge him.
Outside, the clouds roared with deafening thunder. With my nose glued to the glass, I quietly sat by the window to see if lightning would strike a tree or a house maybe? But nothing much happened. The persistent rain formed large puddles on the ground, the snails moved at a snail’s pace and climbed the slippery trees, the striped black and yellow millipedes raced to take shelter under the leaves and the water striders danced on the wet floor. I saw something! Suddenly a wire-like thing with long grey lines and a nimble red tail slithered into the space behind the small stones. It had to be the saanp-ki-mausi⁶ (a skink). I had barely seen it since the last monsoon and it always disappears. Nana had told me that unlike the snake she doesn’t bite. I had to find it this time.
I looked around, Nana and Lobo were snoring, Nani was probably sleeping with the newspaper on her face and mummy was not in the room. She must have been making Chai. That would take time. She gets restless in the evening if she doesn’t get her cup of Chai. (Gaurav says it’s her crack ー I don’t understand that.) It was safe to step out.
I quietly opened the door and went straight for the round stones near the flower pots. I moved the heavy stones and then the moss-covered pots and then the gooey mud around the pots and then the icky snails leaking of syrupy things from their squishy bodies, but I didn’t spot a thing. I poked in the mud with a fallen twig and prodded around everywhere in the garden but the saanp-ki-mausi had vanished, again. Just as I turned back towards the door, I heard a distinct thud and sharp plonk despite the pelting rain. Something plump, speckled and green bounced from one puddle to another. It was a frog! And it was heading straight to the door. I ran and it leapt. The rain was slowing me down. I was at the porch and it was inside the door. I was inside the door and it was under the sofa. I was digging for it with my hand and it was merrily bobbing up and down. I rushed to get Nani’s walking stick to pull it out and it thrust itself without much effort on to Lobo’s hind leg. I hissed at Lobo to catch it without making a sound. Lobo opened his droopy eyes and settled his head back on the floor while ignoring me. The frog was now on Lobo’s tail, which Lobo moved for no reason and it hopped to Nani’s right knee, which she sleepily jerked. Water dripped from my skirt and I slipped. It croaked and jumped from Nani’s knee to the chair, from the chair to the T.V., from the T.V. to the chessboard and then to Nana’s forehead.
Smelly slimy snakes! Mummy was going to kill me. Only if lazy Lobo had made the slightest effort…
I rushed to quietly stand beside Nana’s shiny bald forehead. His long reverberating snores had calmed down the frog. It sat motionless enjoying the rhythmic sounds. I carefully slid it with my fingers on to my palm and tightly closed both my hands together. Just when I breathed a sigh-of-relief, I heard a shrilling yell from behind.
“Chikuuuuu..”
I turned with a jerk. Mummy was staring at me with her bloodshot eyes and muttering things. It gets worse when her sentences start with my name. “Chiku will sit in her room all day, Chiku will not get any jalebis, Chiku will walk Lobo for a week..”
I feared what was coming. She was steaming like the hot cup of chai in her hand.
“Why are you drenched?”
“Where did you go?”
“Why is there water on the floor?”
I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying because the frog was tickling my palms. I chuckled a little and she roared louder, “Why are you laughing?”
I couldn’t bear the tingle on my palms and I opened them with a loud chortle. Plop! The frog jumped straight into the chai. Mummy let out an ear-splitting scream and the tray crashed to the floor. Nani and Nana were on their feet, Lobo was wagging his tail, Gaurav was still in his room, the frog was on the floor and I was on my knees trying to save it.
Poor him, who takes a dip in hot chai? It went a little wacky, leapt to the left, to the right and doggedly zig-zagged towards the bathroom. I dashed after it and mummy, still shouting, after me. Maybe it wanted to take another dip, in something cooler this time? And after a few confusing hops, it went straight into the pot and lay there silently.
What a relief!
But I couldn’t let it drown there. Should I use my hands?
Ewww… No Way! Yuck!
Wait…Mummy’s chai cup!
That could do the trick. While I fetched it, Mumma blared continuously, “Chiku I want this thing out of the house.” (Lobo had licked chai off the floor, one less chore to ruin my vacation, good boy!)
Slowly, I dipped the cup into the toilet bowl, the friendly frog gently climbed in, like a goldfish in the water. But then Mumma had to scream again, “Chiku I drink chai in THAT CUP!”
Not everyone is used to Mumma’s abrupt fury. Terrified, the tiny frog jumped back into the pot, dove deeper and vanished. For hours, I called out, “Froggy… Greeny…Slimy…Come out, please! I’ll take you home!” I coaxed it with twigs and stems from the garden but it refused to surface. I sat by the bathroom door all evening and all night, careful to not let anyone flush the frog. Mumma says that frogs can live in sewers, but I don’t want it to. I don’t know if it is alive.
It’s midnight now and only I can hear grunts from the bathroom. Gaurav says it’s nothing, Mumma says it is the rain, Nani-Nana think it’s the leaky taps and Lobo is refusing to sniff the toilet bowl to find any visible signs of life.
What if the frog is not alive?
What if it is already a ghost and floating in the drain?
I don’t know how to help it. The toilet bowl is haunted. The bathroom is haunted. This house is haunted. How will I ever be able to sleep here?
Only if Mummy had let me handle things my way…
[1]: Maternal Grandma — Grandpa
[2]: Older brother — Bhaiya is a generic reference to men
[3]: Potato Fritters
[4]: Fritters with Yoghurt, mint and tamarind chutney
[5]: Confectioner
[6]: Skink — colloquially called saanp ki mausi — snake’s aunt
