Yuva went back to his room and his grandma was sitting in the chair with the fuming hot coffee cup on his table. He took it and was savoring it when he felt he heard a sob and turned around and looked at his grandma. She was sitting there with her hand on the arm of the chair and her face hidden in her elbow. She was crying.
Yuva went near her and said, “Don't cry like a woman, Grandma.”
She rose, wiping her tears, saying, “yeah” before grasping his joke. She then smiled in a bittersweet way and said, pinching his cheeks, “Such a naughty boy, just like your father.” And after a little pause she added, “I'm sorry Yuva.”
“Why the hell are you apologizing?”
“In a way, I was a reason for your punishment.”
Yuva squirted his coffee, “What? Do you mean to say you provoked him to hit me?”
“What the hell are you talking? Why would I do such a ghastly thing?”
“Then, how can you be the reason for my punishment?”
“That, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”
But Yuva was not to be cowed so easily. He’s already a mildly inquisitive boy and he was at his wit’s end when his grandma apologized, “No, I must get to the bottom of it,” he thought and persisted with his badgering. And frustrated at his insolence she gave him a death stare, something which always made anyone flinch at her, for that stare made her look like a mad witch. But Yuva was not someone who lived there and hence had no idea he had to succumb to that stare, so he glared back right at her for his curiosity won over him.
Never before did grandma get a stare back, and with this unprecedented glaring she had gotten back from Yuva she was baffled and was lost at a suitable comeback and could do nothing else but to yield and share the secret with him.
She moved closer to him, took a deep breath and said, “This will be our little secret, don't tell anyone.” Just when she was about to tell AD, entered, bringing a plate of dhoklas with him. She stood up and said, “I've asked him to make dhoklas, I know you love them. AD, give it to him and wait for him to eat and take the tray away. Yuva, I'll give your grandpa his coffee and come back.”
After she left, Yuva said, “Sorry AD, I've accidentally slipped off the news about alarm. Well, don't worry too much, I'll promise I'll do whatever I can to help you get away from the penalty, if any.”
AD gave a grateful nod and brought the plate near Yuva and said, “Here, dhoklas.”
“Umm! Wah, wah! Nice AD. They taste just like the way they do in Gujarat. How can you cook these so yummy?”
“Sahib insults me? Of course, I make nice-nice dhoklas. I Gujarati,” replied AD, in his broken English.
“Wow AD, you're a gujju? I never knew that. But your name's AD what kind of Gujarati name is that?”
“A phor (for) Abhay, sahib, meaning phearless (fearless).”
“And what does the 'D' mean?”
“It is my phamily (Family) name, sahib.”
“Yeah, what's that?”
“No, sahib make phun (fun) of my phamily name, I not tell.”
“You won’t say to me? Common, we are friends. No secrets.”
“Yes, Sahib is very kind, just like his phather (father).”
“See, now you should tell me,” said Yuva handing back the tray having finished eating the dhoklas.
AD dropped down to Yuva and whispered in his ear, “Daruwalla,” and immediately left the room as if he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten the milk on the stove.
Yuva didn’t understand why he ran like that. He pieced the names together and said aloud, 'Abhay Daruwalla', and went into a fit of unstoppable giggles and grins, for, though Abhay meant fearless, 'Abhay Daruwalla' also translated to something along the lines of, 'Hey you drunkard' and/or 'Hey you liquor brewer'.
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