| Sushma R Doshi| January 2025 | Flash Fiction |
“Ki hoyeche? What happened?” asked Mrs Biswas to Mr Biswas.
Mr Biswas stood at the entrance of the car showroom with his wife and daughter. Unbelievable. He was finally going to buy a car. It was 1987. But it wasn’t too late. He had been saving for a car since 1982. It was his dream to buy a car for his family. It had been difficult as he was working in a private company. He had managed to save Rs 30,000 and he had taken Rs 20,000 as a loan from his Provident Fund. His wife was not too happy.
“Taking a loan and buying a car! You should be saving up for the future. You don’t have a government job that you can depend on for a pension. Thank God your father had bought a place for himself, otherwise we would still be living on rent. Imagine… Living on rent and saving up for a car. You’re obsessed with the idea of owning a car,” Mrs Biswas grumbled.
“Ma… please… We are here to buy a car…” said thirteen year old Debjani irritably. Her father was finally going to buy a car. That would be something to show off to her friends. A Maruti 800. Squeaky clean and shining.
“It feels grand,” she would tell her friends.
They stood at the entrance of the showroom. A few cars were parked outside the showroom. It included a white Premier Padmini Fiat. Mr Biswas stared at it transfixed.
Mr.Biswas was a young boy. Anirban Biswas. Big sounding name. Laltu, his nickname or daaknaam, described him more. Common. His father managed a small stationery store and they lived in the two-and-a-half rooms they had rented behind the store — his Ma, Baba, brother, sister and himself. Baba tried his best to give them a good education but they lived on handouts from their Jethu, their father’s elder brother. Jethu had made it big. He worked as an officer in the government sector. People whispered that he took bribes. That’s how he had money. Otherwise, no one working in the government would be able to afford a plush house and a trip to the United States of America.
Laltu’s Ma didn’t like this kind of conversation. “He helps us when we are in need…doesn’t he? Where his money comes from is not our problem. Maybe one day he will loan us some money to buy this place we are living in.”
The landlord had declared he was going to sell the place and if they wanted, the tenants could buy the place. Jethu helped them with a loan and Laltu’s father managed to buy the place. The place wasn’t much but it was a place they called home. Laltu himself didn’t care much for Jethu who mostly ignored him nor for his daughter, Piya. Piya had her nose in the air but she got Laltu those triangle-shaped chocolates named Toblerone from America and Laltu loved them. He also loved Piya’s collection of dinky cars, but Piya never allowed him to touch them. Laltu was hurt but he never showed it. He knew he was a poor relative and was getting treated as such.
“What are you looking at?” asked Mrs Biswas impatiently.
“Baba, let’s go,” said Debjani.
Mr Biswas felt the Fiat was a sign from the past.
It was the day of the Grihapravesh of the two and a half rooms they had bought with Jethu’s help. Laltu’s Ma was excited. Baba said it was just an old home in which they had been living for the past ten years but Ma insisted on a Grihapravesh. Finally, she had her own home. Everyone was wearing new clothes. The priest was performing the necessary rituals with Laltu’s parents sitting in obeisance. The air was thick with smoke from incense sticks mingled with the aroma of flowers and prasad. But fifteen year old Laltu was not interested in any of those things. He was waiting for Jethu’s arrival in his new car, the Premier Padmini Fiat. He kept peeking outside the door anxiously.
“They’ll arrive soon,” his Ma said with a smile.
A new white Premier Padmini Fiat rolled up driven by a chauffeur in a white uniform. The car stopped at their gate, and the chauffeur quickly jumped out to open the doors for the owners of the car sitting in the backseat. Jethu, in a tussar silk kurta pajamas, and Piya in a pink frilly dress stepped out like royalty. But Laltu’s attention wasn’t on the owners. He was mesmerized by the car. White. Elegant. Sleek. What would it feel like to drive in it? Just as Jethu and Piya stepped out, Laltu rushed to the car and jumped inside. He caressed the seats and exclaimed, “Why! It’s beautiful…”
Jethu’s face was suffused with rage. “You dirty boy! Get out! Your grubby hands will sully the clean seats! Out now!”
Laltu’s face fell. He looked at his parents in the hope of a defense. He hoped that his Ma would say, “Why! He is just a little boy.” His Baba would say, “He is not dirty…he is wearing new clothes.” But his parents were supporting Jethu.
“Laltu.. don’t be naughty…don’t you know it’s a new car…you shouldn’t touch it,” said Ma.
“Laltu, get down…you’ll smudge the new white car…don’t you realize it’s white?” agreed Baba.
Laltu’s eyes glittered with tears as he slunk out of the car shamefaced. Piya looked at him in an amused, condescending way. He quietly walked inside his home. One day, he would show them. One day, he would buy a Fiat.
Mr Biswas stared at the Premier Padmini Fiat.
“What are you daydreaming about?” asked Mrs Biswas again.
“We are not buying a Maruti 800. We are buying a Premier Padmini Fiat,” stated Mr Biswas. “A white Premier Padmini Fiat.”
GLOSSARY
ki hoyeche : what happened?
daaknaam : pet name
Jethu : father’s elder brother
Grihapravesh : rituals performed in a new house in Hinduism
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Sushma R Doshi completed her graduation in History from Loreto College, Kolkata. She went on to acquire a PhD in International Relations from Jawahar Lal Nehru University, New Delhi.Her work has been published by Every Day Fiction, Contemporary Literary Review India, Borderless Journal, Literally Stories, Impspired and Muse India amongst others. Her short story “Magic”in Syncopation Literary Journal has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.
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Feature image by via Wikimedia Commons
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Beautiful story and one I can completely relate to! Our family had a Fiat and it was the pride and joy of an uncle of mine. So many memories!