Married to the mob

In my youth, I used to spend most of my vacations with my aunt. My uncle was in the Army, so the holidays were always opportunities to see ...

In my youth, I used to spend most of my vacations with my aunt. My uncle was in the Army, so the holidays were always opportunities to see a whole string of the remote areas where they were posted. Over the years, my frequent visits brought me rather close to my aunt, whom I had come to admire. She was an efficient homemaker, ably assisted by a string of servants, courtesy the Army. I enjoyed her hospitality for many years and I rather suspect she also enjoyed my visits.

8220;If you had a daughter, would you have married her to a man in uniform?8221; I once asked her half in jest. She is a rather open individual, but this time I found her swiftly switching the conversation to another topic. But it only aroused my curiosity. Behind her cheerful demeanour, I suspected, lurked some hidden unhappiness.

Could it be my uncle8217;s fastidiousness? I remembered my aunt once telling me that she had had to take up a formal cooking course soon after she got married. Apparently, her husband had insisted on it. And it wasn8217;t one of these cordon bleu in a week or money back courses that you find advertised in the personal columns either. My aunt was in attendance for all of six years! Having weathered that, she has become a great cook with a wide range of culinary skills. I often wonder how she manages to get even non-vegetarian dishes just so, though not a morsel of animal protein has passed her lips in all her life. Does my aunt feel taxed by this need brought on by marriage? Not at all. I found that she rather enjoys cooking and taking charge of the table, and takes great personal interest in the whole exercise of feeding a family.

Then could she be uneasy because she feels uncomfortable in social dos in the cantonment? On one occasion, I accompanied her family to a dinner party in the officers8217; mess. I had never been invited to such a formal affair before, and I recall that I felt distinctly uncomfortable. I could sense my aunt8217;s uneasiness as well every time the spouse of a senior officer approached her. There is a strict hierarchical structure among defense officers while in uniform. But a sense of this structure intrudes even in the social gatherings 8212; and across families 8212; after duty hours. Could this be the fate that she would not want to visit upon a daughter? Probably not, since my aunt is not a frequent visitor to such parties anyway.

Could it be due to the string of visitors she has to entertain? My aunt invites young cadets home, especially on days when they have had a swift rocket administered by her husband on the parade ground. Cadets in their initial weeks of training often become so nervous that many of them start reconsidering their career choice. In this crucial period, my aunt pitches in and eases them up over tea 8212; in the absence of her minatory husband. The cadets tend to take a better view of the situation, and they also pick up unofficial tips on evasive action under rocket fire. But then, my aunt8217;s charity was entirely voluntary. It couldn8217;t possibly be the reason for her reservations.

So what on earth could the reason be?

Then it all came out one night at dinner, when my aunt received a phone call from her relatives. They informed her of a death in the family. Could she come for the funeral? 8220;Yes8221;, she replied after a pause. Later, she went about grousing to herself, before she started packing for the journey. The next afternoon she went out and returned with a big cardboard box which was to go with her. It was stuffed with purchases from the Army canteen. I now understood why she she would never allow her daughter to be an Army wife. Because no matter what she goes home for, even if it is for a funeral, she always has to lug a huge box of rations with her.