Abduction
The matchbox houses stood like rows of rainbow-coloured umbrellas on a deserted beach. The scent of spices and curries filled the air. The houses were so close that if you smashed a stink bomb in your kitchen, the rotten smell would travel like lightening to next door, bringing out all and sundry. The ladies wore saris and were addressed as aunties. Everyone and anyone was your aunty. It was almost evening and the clouds blanketed the sun, the moon shone happily savouring the camaraderie of this carefree community. The young boys were on the narrow street still playing football. When cars passed they slowed down so the youth hastily dispersed in all directions. The three little friends were busy playing house with their dolls and cooking make-believe food on their toy stoves. The eldest was Devi, the second eldest was Rumba and the youngest was Suri. Suri was brattish because when she was bored or feld ignored, she always toppled the little toys like a menace running off and taunting the other two. Devi was the most responsible, that’s the reason for her taking on the role of Dad when they played house. Rumba was plump and short so they teased her, calling her “Half Loaf”.
This was a very close-knit community and each family always included the girls on their excursions to the beach. The girls loved the sea and always swam fully clothed. They loved each other although they fought occasionally. The fights were sometimes serious, prompting their mothers to run like mad women untangle them. Scratching, biting, gripping and pulling each other’s hair were common occurrences. Rumba ran out into the open yard and screamed excitedly, “Devi, Suri come get ready quick, my daddy is taking us to the beach!”. The other two did not wait to be asked twice. Immediately they went into their tiny houses grabbing their buckets and spades. Frantically waving, they huddled into the tiny car exuberant and giggling with excitement. Waving a lunchbox Suri blurted, “My mum made some yummy bean sandwiches”. Devi boasted, “My mum baked fresh biscuits”. The girls knew that Devi’s mum always enjoyed baking. Rumba hung her head bleakly, “I don’t like my mum, she only scolds me and is too lazy to make anything”. Her dad retorted from the driver’s seat, “Rumba stop complaining about your mother, she does her best”.
When they arrived at the beach, the girls ran excitedly letting the grains of sea sand filter through their toes, cupping seawater and wetting each other. Rumba noticed a young couple petting and smooching under an umbrella. She beckoned to her friends and they feasted their young, curious eyes on the lovebirds. Suri was bored so she ran off to play and wade in the water. Rumba and Devi were so engrossed watching the lovebirds that they forgot about Suri. When they were satisfied, their eyes became blurry from intent staring, they decided to go seek out Suri. They skimmed the beach but there was no sign of her. Worried they ventured from their allocated spot and went in search of her. Big tears rolled down Rumba’s cheeks as she called out to her friend, “Suri, Suri”, yelling at the top of her voice while Devi cupped her mouth and megaphoned, “S U R I”, still no answer. She was nowhere to be found. They hastily hurried back to the car to tell Rumba’s dad, who was lounging, drinking a beer. Babbling they informed him that Suri was missing. “You girls are naughty, irresponsible girls and I am never bringing you girls to the beach again!”, he said angrily. A crowd gathered and helped to search for Suri. Rumba began to cry loudly while Devi tried to console her. “I love Suri, I love Suri”, she wailed loudly. Devi said, “ Come Rumba don’t cry we will find our Suri”, and she tugged her along skimming the vast shore. The girls did not realize that they ventured away from the crowd. By now both were howling, helpless and defeated. Huddled on the sea sand they were hysterical with grief. Their love for Suri made them cry inconsolably.
Suddenly Devi noticed something in the distance. Upon closer inspection, they realized it was two people grappling with each other. They veered closer but careful to keep a safe distance. Rumba was a smart girl and cautioned Devi to observe from afar. Devi was the first to recognize Suri by the colour of her dress. She was being held forcefully and dragged mercilessly. Rumba was about to scream, but Devi covered her mouth and signed her to hush. Courage and bravery engulfed the girls like a halo. They discreetly followed the dreadful monster that was luring their little friend away. Hiding behind a small neglected bush, they watched from a distance. Devi decided to run back and alert the other people on the beach, while Rumba bravely kept watch. Rumba could hear Suri’s desperate screams for help. Reacting instinctively she ran towards. She grabbed a handful of sea sand and hurled it at the man’s eyes. He buckled trying to clear his now itchy and blurry as both girls attacked him, scratching and kicking violently. He was an unkempt vagabond and reeked of alcohol. Within minutes Devi returned with a crowd of people armed with sticks, umbrellas and anything that could be used as a weapon.
The police arrived soon thereafter and took the man away as the girls hugged each other awash with happiness and relief. Suri got so many hugs and kisses that her cheeks turned red. By the time the girls got home, they were famished and exhausted. As soon as Rumba’s dad parked the car on the roadside, for the sidewalks were as narrow as a crone’s mind. They were surrounded by the neighbourhood. Suri was ushered into the house and questions flowed like a waterfall. When the saga was related by Rumba, everyone’s mouth opened in shock and utter disbelief. The community spoke of that wretched drama for weeks, dragging onto months. The two little heroines were Rumba and Devi. Love and a bond so strong entwined the girls like a thick rope. For days afterthe event Suri was pampered and spoilt like a little princess, which made her swollen-headed and she taunted the other two deliberately. They continued their games for many more years. The little menace always escaped with her tantrums and charades that made Devi and Rumba accept defeat and retreat.
Four decades later the phone rings and Rumba answers, Devi on the other line exclaims, “Hey what’s wrong with that Suri, I called several times and she is not answering!” Rumba replies, “Hey you know that menace, she must be up to her tricks as usual”, and they both laugh hysterically. The ladies decided to meet for a reunion. Devi was a grandma with three grandsons and Rumba was a grandma with two granddaughters. As for Suri she refused to marry and enjoyed the perks of being single and carefree. The fine-dining restaurant was popular for the a la cart menu and the cocktails were the talk of the town. It was Rumba that chose this place because the ladies had warm memories of her sixteenth birthday. It was on that day that Suri mistook the finger bowl for lemon juice. While she was dealing with acute embarrassment the other two almost fell off their chairs with rapturing mirth.
The first to arrive was Rumba who loved cocktails, sipping on her mojito she waited for the other two. Devi entered cackling like a hyena and giving Rumba a hug while muttering, “Eish half loaf it has been a few years”! They both broke into bouts of raucous laughter, turning heads. The last to arrive was the menace. Flamboyant and wrinkles concealed by professionally done makeup, breezed in with a whiff of perfume that could wake the dead. She plumped on the chair all her airs and graces disappearing in howls of giggles and laughter. The restaurant had a beautiful view overlooking the city and revolved at a snail’s pace, allowing its patrons to take in the beautiful view of the city and its surrounding areas. Devi settled for a soft drink and Suri had a merlot that was too dry for Rumba’s taste. They spent a wonderful afternoon reminiscing about their childhood and the drama at the beach. They went back to their tweeny then teen years and finally adults. Devi was the first to marry and Rumba gave a speech that was so hilarious that guests buckled in laughter. When Rumba married, Suri’s speech had the guests scrambling for dictionaries in their heads. They shared sadness when they lost loved ones and happiness when there were celebrations. The memories allowed them to weave colourful stories for their kids and grandkids. Their love for each other still beamed in their sparkly eyes, built on stories and friendship spanning a lifetime.