Narrative Sample from "THE FLAME TREE"

This is not the first chapter. I'm introducing Bristi's uncle here who acts as the antagonist in her story.

Introducing the scene: Bristi grows up in an ordinary middle-class family in Kolkata, India. The walls of her family’s apartment reek of mediocrity, compromise, and stunted ambitions. Her father is a failed artist who constantly feels sorry for himself and resents anyone with money.  His meager wages can’t always pay for the family expenses and her mother is forced to borrow money from her rich uncle, Salil.

To Bristi, her uncle is not a benefactor but a tyrant who never misses an opportunity to insult her family.  Her uncle’s snobberies are as resolute as everything else about him. He believes that he and his wife are “better people”—people who are successful, wealthy and familiar with the ways of high-society. His wealth is his is the proof of his righteousness. To her uncle, Bristi’s social activism and social work is a colossal waste of time.

Bristi never feels gratitude for the money and items she receives from her uncle and aunt. She doesn’t want their pity or their handouts. She wants to escape this uncle’s grip over her life and constant interference from his wife. She wants to give her parents a comfortable life where they are respected. Her feelings toward her uncle rise into something that can only be called hate.  

Here in this restaurant, she meets Samrat who is Uncle Salil's nephew. 

Uncle Salil joined us a little bit later, waving at the waiter for a glass of whiskey, and slumped into a chair complaining about the failed air-conditioning in his office. He was elegantly dressed in a suit, and his hair gleamed with gel and sweat. Arindam excused himself from our table and went back on stage.

Uncle Salil slapped Samrat’s back and said, “Here is the boy who is going make our country proud. I just spoke to your father. Never seen him happier. He said, ‘This will be my biggest project because my son is investing in this.”

“I know you have a lot to say to Samrat, but did you notice my niece is here too?”  Aunt Rini rolled her eyes.

Uncle Salil nodded absentmindedly toward me, acknowledging my presence. “Looking very traditional as usual.” His eyes swept over me uninterestedly.

I was feeling foolish in my mother’s wedding banarasi and my overly painted face. Uncle Salil’s comment sounded like an insult, and I grimaced. Usually, he had absolutely nothing to say to me. He was too preoccupied with office matters and rarely showed any inclination toward small talk.

“Poor Bristi and Samrat here are starving. I was going to order, but they wanted to wait for you,” said Aunt Rini with a slight edge to her voice.

“Then order now. I’m starving, too.”

The chicken sizzler came, followed by soft butter Nans. Aunt Rini ordered another rum and Coke for herself and a Gold Spot for me.

Suddenly, Uncle Salil said, his eyes foggy with alcohol, “I hear you have been wasting time doing some social work lately.”

I almost spit out the chicken pakora in my mouth. “What are you saying uncle? What social work?”

 “Your aunt told me that you brought some Muslim girl home and almost started a riot in the neighborhood.”

“I was just giving her shelter for a few days,” I sulked. “Showing some humanity.”

Uncle Salil threw back his head and laughed. “Show your humanity to humans not to criminals.”

“Criminals?”

 “Of course. They are all criminals. Sneaked into our country illegally. Some from Bangladesh side and others from Pakistan.”

I felt like I had accidentally chewed on five green chillis. “Uncle Salil, not all Muslims are criminals, and not all come from Bangladesh and Pakistan. Most Muslims have lived in this country for several generations. They are as Indian as we are.”

“Nonsense!” Uncle Salil banged on the table so hard that plates and cups tremored. “Show me their birth certificate. Where is their ID…hunh? They live in this country illegally. They should all be gathered up and sent back.”

Uncle Salil picked up a leg piece of the tandoori chicken and took an enormous bite. Then licking his fingers he said, “I am glad that our Desi party is thinking of creating a National Register of Citizens. Once these illegals are sent back, crime will go down.”

“Yeah, this fascist government can go to any extent,” I fought to control my temper.

“Fascist? You are calling fascist? This is the only party delivers on its promises.”

“Hey”, snapped Aunt Rini, “Why don’t you leave the girl alone?”

“Bristi you are just like your father. You waste time on useless things. What you lack is ambition…you don’t aim big in life. Like your father you too will end up with a two-paisa, blue-collar job.”

“That’s enough,” warned Aunt Rini. “She doesn’t need your lecture.”

“But look at my nephew, Samrat here. Golden boy of our family. His father is the biggest land developer in Kolkata. They own the South City Mall and Quest mall. Your father can’t dream of shopping in these places.”

“How dare you offend her like this,” fumed Aunt Rini. “I brought her here to make her feel better.”

“Am I not her uncle? I’m trying to teach her a lesson.”

“Like you tried to teach the government employees a lesson by firing them all? Why don’t you stop trying to improve everyone around you and take a long look at yourself?”

Uncle Salil pushed back his chair in a black fury and slammed his glass on the table. “How dare you say that? It is my hard-earned money that finances your kitty parties and charity balls. If it was not for me, you would be….”

“Don’t flex your muscles unnecessarily before a woman and a child. When I told you to leave the Taja factory alone, you did not listen. So, why are you complaining now?”

 “Who said I’m complaining? I did the right thing. You increase efficiency and productivity by firing the lazy asses as quickly as possible. That’s how you cut down waste, fraud and abuse in government.”

“That may have worked in your private sector. But did it work in the public sector? Tell me why hired them back?”

I held my breath. It was true Uncle Salil had had to compromise in the end in the Supari factory scandal. His escape from the factory had been followed by a month-long strike at the factory and union members demonstrating outside the factory gates. The factory remained locked, and no one came to work. The inventory rotted in the storeroom and the supply chain vendors demanded payment. Customers switched to different brands and the factory incurred heavy losses.

In the end, Uncle Salil had to ask Manas Mondol for advice. He told Uncle Salil to issue a public apology for firing the workers and to give back the lost wages.

So, a reluctant Uncle Salil went back to the factory and issued a public apology. Manas Mondol and a few members of the press were there, too.

As if waking from a dream I saw Uncle Salil’s  mouth open to hurl further insults at his wife. People around us were beginning to stare.

“I’m going to go home,” I pushed my chair back.

“Going home?” asked Aunt Rini. She looked surprised. “But you didn’t finish eating.”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“But how will you go home? Who will drive you?”

Samrat got up too.  “I can drop off Bristi.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” I said hastily. “I’ll take the autorickshaw.”

“Definitely not,” Aunt Rini rolled her eyes. “Don’t forget you’re wearing gold jewelry. Samrat will drop you off.”

“Gold jewelry…hunh…?” growled Uncle Salil. “Where did your mother get gold jewelry from? She says she doesn’t have money to buy groceries and medicine. We give your parents charity money every month. But looks like she is buying gold jewelry with our money.”

I felt Samrat’s fingers curl on my wrist as he walked me out of the club. I could feel the heat on my cheeks and my body was trembling.

Once outside, I attacked him like a tigress.  “Why did you come to meet me? You know we are not in your class. My father is just a factory worker.  You uncle thinks we are a team of useless, lazy people who will never do anything in life. Then why did you come here today to watch my humiliation?  Did it make you feel good about yourself? Do you feel superior to me now?   Are you going to laugh at this encounter during your family dinner?” I bit my lip fiercely and the tears came pouring out of my eyes.

Samrat put his arms around me and pulled me toward him. “I apologize for my uncle’s behavior. I am truly ashamed. I should have protested but things happened so quickly that I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.”

“But this is not the first time your uncle has insulted us. He never let’s go of a single opportunity to remind us of the wealth disparity between the families. And just because my mother has borrowed money from them, he wants to keep us as his loyal slaves forever.  We should always show gratitude and always tolerate his insults?”

Samrat brought my face down to his chest. “Calm down,” he said.

I rubbed my face into his T-shirt, sobbing and repeating, “These rich people never fail to humiliate us.  Every day they remind us of our class and status …I hate everything about them.”

Then I pushed Samrat away from me and waved at a taxi. It stopped, and I darted into it, rolled down the window, and shouted: “You and I come from different worlds. We have nothing in common. Marry a trophy wife that your father picks for you and take her back to America.   You’ll make your family very happy.”

The taxi started to move, and I heard him screaming, “Bristi wait. Travelling in a taxi at this time is not safe for you. I’ll drop you off.”

I rolled up the window to drown out his voice. The taxi picked up speed and Samrat grew smaller and smaller till he disappeared from the rear-view mirror.