Kebabs and Dhoklas

“Sakina!”

Janvi’s big ears looked even bigger because of her short pixie cut. Dressed in an old comfortable t-shirt and shorts, she slowly opened the door. A face showed in parts through the grill like perfectly fitted puzzle pieces.

It was indeed Sakina, her next-door neighbour.

Sakina’s delicate nose deftly held a pair of Potter-style glasses. Strands of jet-black hair peeped through the red floral hijab that framed her perfectly oval face.

“Come in quickly.” Janvi ushered Sakina into the house and bolted the door behind her.

“You look like Red Riding Hood today. Growwlllll!!! What food do you have for me, my child?” Janvi had seen the bowl in Sakina’s hands. They loved to exchange food that was cooked in their homes.

“Guess what it is!” Sakina stretched her arms towards Janvi with an eager smile, her henna-painted nails looking like gold on the shiny steel plate.

Janvi sniffed around the covered steel plate and felt it.

“And?” asked Sakina.

“I can smell fresh coriander chutney! And the plate is warm. Hmmm . . .” Janvi was still contemplating what could be served with the chutney.

— “Correct! But guess what it is, na!”

— “I’m trying. But before that, I want you to guess what’s in my bowl.”

Sakina, too, sniffed around the porcelain plate that covered the bowl in Janvi’s hand.

— “And?”

— “Arre! This smells like coriander chutney too,” said Sakina. “I can’t wait. I’m hungry.”

— “3-2-1!”

They uncovered the bowls at the count of three and looked down at the food.

Kebab!! exclaimed Janvi.
Dhokla! exclaimed Sakina.

With dark eyes lit up like a starry night, they sat and ate together. No one said a word till the last of the kebabs and the dhoklas dunked in fresh green coriander chutney vanished, leaving behind a spattering of mustard and sesame seeds and sprigs of fresh coriander garnish.

They smiled at their empty bowls but soon the smile vanished as they looked towards the window that faced the street. It had been closed for three days now.

That winter of 1992 had been one of the worst winters Bombay had seen yet. Not because it was too cold or it had snowed — a cold winter is something Bombayites only wish they had. A masjid had been demolished in faraway Ayodhya and the tremors were felt all the way in DN Street, among many other places.

Suddenly, everyone was talking about religion and beliefs. Violence had erupted in many parts of the city. Establishments were destroyed. Everything was shut including offices, schools, and other institutes. People had to volunteer for patrolling their neighbourhoods to nab miscreants and to protect their families.

“Has he come back?” Janvi asked Sakina.

Sakina nodded as she stared at her empty bowl. “What about you?”

Janvi simply looked down and said, “I wonder if they have eaten anything.”

Sakina had not seen her Abbu and Janvi had not seen her Papa for two days now. It was their turn to patrol outside and watch out for people who were attacking the innocent.

“How will we know how they are, where they are?” said Sakina as she stared at the closed window.

“Wait! I have an idea.” Janvi rushed towards the window and with her thin arms she pushed the two pouffes away from the wall. Beams of light streamed through the tiny holes in the wall.

“They look like stars from Cinderella’s fairy godmother’s magic wand,” said Sakina, marvelling at the holed wall that was found in old constructions in Bombay.

“I wish it was like Narnia’s door that opened up into an enchanting world — a world where people only enjoyed delicious food together,” suggested Janvi as she stared into one of the holes. Sakina sat next to her peeping through another. They both tried to look for their fathers. But they couldn’t be seen.

The sky was turning dark. The chugging of the train across the street drowned all other sounds.
The sounds of lathis beating on the streets.
Of glass bottles and stones being hurled aimlessly.
Of not very nice things being said to one another.
Of pin drop silence.

— “Can I tell you something, Sakina? I honestly didn’t think it mattered that you’re a Muslim.”

— “I didn’t know it mattered that you’re a Hindu. Why do grownups do all this?”

“Grownups teach us how to build things and then they go about destroying things everywhere, fighting all the time,” Sakina added.

“Maybe they should play football or cricket and fight it out on a playground instead.” Janvi beamed as she spoke. “At least everyone cheers for each other!”

“Or maybe they should have a culinary contest. Whether they win or lose, they can all enjoy the food together at the end!” said Sakina. “Well, who’s going to listen to us anyway. I should get going. Ammi must be worried.”

Saying this, Sakina left. Janvi bolted the door of her house only once Sakina entered hers.

Soon, the doorbell in Sakina’s house rang. Not once, but twice— their secret code.

“It must be Janvi. I wonder what happened.”

Sakina opened the door. A short and stout figure clad in black and wearing a veiled mask barged inside the house and locked the door.

Sakina didn’t know what was going on. All she could see were the person’s eyes and the tip of a sharp and shiny sword peeping from the veil.

Sakina’s throat went dry. She stepped behind. Her Ammi rushed outside from the room and held her. The stood motionless as the man asked about Abbu’s whereabouts.

“He isn’t there! How many times should we tell you,” Ammi wailed.

The man did not budge. He sat on the sofa and threatened to not leave till her Abbu arrived.

Just then, Sakina thought of a plan. She ran into the kitchen and came out with a plate of kebabs and chutney.

“You must be hungry. My Ammi makes the best kebabs in the world.”

The masked man showed his fist at first, seething in anger. Then, he grabbed the plate and began eating the kebabs.

Soon, the doorbell rang twice again. Sakina hoped it wasn’t Janvi. She did not answer it. But the masked man did.

It was her.

The masked man pulled Janvi into the house and made her stand next to Sakina.

Janvi’s face turned pale. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wished she could turn into her favourite warrior princess, She-Ra, and fight the masked man like She-Ra fought the Evil Horde. Sakina hugged her.

“What’s that in your hand?” He grabbed the bowl from Janvi. Sakina had forgotten it in her house. Janvi was there to return it.

But it wasn’t empty. It was filled with white pillowy soft dhoklas and chutney.

“You could’ve returned the bowl later, Janvi,” cried Sakina. She was sorry she had forgotten it at her place.

— “Mummy told me I must never return an empty bowl. So, I got you some more dhoklas.”

The masked man had finished the kebabs and now he ate up the dhoklas, too. Ammi gave him a glass of water. He drank it in one gulp.

Then, he rose to leave.

“Why is the door open? You know it’s unsafe!” Sakina’s Abbu and Janvi’s papa were back.

“ABBU! Go back!” Sakina screamed.

But they didn’t turn away. The three men stared at each other. Suddenly, the masked man removed the sword from under his veil and held it out as if he was going to launch an attack.

Scared and shocked, everyone stepped back. Ammi muttered prayers under her breath. Sakina and Janvi closed their eyes and held each other tightly.

But the masked man only handed the sword to Sakina’s Abbu. Without a word, he left.

‘How did he get into the house? Are you’ll okay?’ The fathers were frantic. While they were out protecting the neighbourhood, there was trouble inside their own homes.

“Don’t worry, Abbu. There’s no problem that some kebabs and dhoklas cannot solve.”

(Vaishali Shroff is an award-winning children’s author and script-writer of a movie. She writes about unexplored places, untold histories, and about those that need a voice but have none. She loves talking to children over adults, chocolate over anything else, and wants to be a tree in her next life)