Standing on an Apple Box

by Aishwaryaa Rajinikanth Dhanush

  Her silence was so out of character that I mentioned it to Appa, saying something was seriously wrong with Amma, she wasn’t coming to her grandchildren’s rescue as she usually did. He turned to her and asked for her support. After all, she was well known for shouting at friends, relatives, even strangers, if they said anything about kids overeating.

  She shook her head. ‘When she was the same age as Yatra is now, you had the same argument with me about her overeating the exact same thing.’ Appa immediately recalled the incident and you should have seen the sheepish expression on his face!

  I don’t remember it, but apparently I was doing the same thing at lunch one day and Appa was looking at me worriedly. He has very basic food requirements and I guess he just couldn’t understand my gluttony. Amma noticed him watching me and chided him for it. She thought he was being cruel, but Appa was worried that the world could be a cruel place if I ended up being fat. I was already a chubby kid, and he must have been worried about the bullying I would be subjected to. I gather even marriage prospects were mentioned in the course of that conversation. Amma had gone on to place before him the same arguments that he offered to me when I stopped Yatra from overindulging. As the argument continued, I had rather opportunistically reached for another puri. Appa stopped me, and Amma snapped. She said to him, ‘There will come a time when you regret this and beg her to eat!’

  I eventually grew out of the baby fat and once school activities, tennis, dance, etc., gathered momentum, it became a constant struggle to actually find time to keep myself well fed. I remember Amma begging me to have another sip before I rushed out and Appa asking me to take one more bite when we went out to eat.

  It had come almost full circle now, and I realized why Appa was being so adamant. I was happy that Amma had not contributed to the worry about my size, but I understood Appa’s point of view as well: society does not look favourably upon bigger-sized people, especially women. I had to tread a fine balance between urging my children to eat healthy while not contributing to a bad body image. And of course, grandparents will be grandparents. So, just as it is my job to control the children’s excesses, it is theirs to indulge those same extravagances.

  Kiddy Lessons

  Family holidays were a big occasion for us when we were kids, and I love to continue the tradition with my own children, though it can be a little tough. At home, I have help with most things. The clothes are washed and ironed, the cook takes care of breakfast, lunch and dinner and all I have to do is make sure the children eat, play and sleep on time. Which I insist happens according to a strict timetable.

  I can be quite the stickler for routine, almost dictatorial in my need for obedience (my sons, if asked, could supply you with a whole load of other unflattering terms, I am sure). I am convinced that growing children need their sleep, and although I may sound like a nagging granny, I cannot stress its importance enough. Left to them, sleep would be the last priority. They think it is a waste of valuable playtime and as they get older, it’s harder to make them stick to their bedtime. So a holiday abroad is a bribe that’s dangled throughout the school year. I couldn’t do this when they were young. (Double toddler nightmares and international flights do not mix!) I imagined every horrible scenario, including losing them in a vast theme park, running around frantically searching for them, while they sat back in some hiding place, watching me and laughing as I went crazy! (I must also admit I was not taken by the prospect of bathing, feeding, putting to sleep and ensuring all-day entertainment for the twin terrors, all by myself.) So it was only four years ago that I finally got to take them on a holiday.

  Now I have been on flights where children have wreaked havoc. Running up and down the aisle, screaming. Jumping over people, stepping on their legs, hitting their shins. The worst was a nine-hour flight where a toddler wailed throughout. The mother tried everything she possibly could, the flight attendants tried, the people in the neighbouring seats tried, but the child just went on wailing. For nearly nine hours straight. (He wasn’t sick, probably just bored and irritated.) My kids have been kind to me. They usually take a short nap or watch the inflight entertainment. Thank god!

  The first such trip we went on was to Hong Kong. Not too far, nor too close. It had a Disneyland, which we visited almost as soon as we landed. To be perfectly truthful, I enjoyed it even more than the boys did. I felt like a princess! I wore a tiara, took photographs with every character who crossed my path and generally had a whale of a time. I am sure I embarrassed the boys and if it had gone any further (they did not have a Snow White costume in my size) they would have abandoned me then and there, refusing to acknowledge that I was their mother.

  Children love repetition. I can almost see the parents among you nodding their heads, thinking of those bedtime sessions when you were forced to read the same book or sing the same lullaby again and again and again. So it should come as no surprise that our next holiday abroad was to Disneyland in Hong Kong. The weather was lovely and it was Christmas time. The kids were a bit more grown up and could enjoy the rides and since they were familiar with the place, there was no running around to find Mickey or Goofy. My husband was also able to get a few days off and that made the whole trip very special. We love planning trips as a family, but when you combine a busy actor husband and the school calendar, it is difficult. We hate them missing out on vacations, so I usually take them, but having their father around is, of course, the tops. I still remember how gleefully they watched the parade with their father and how the colourful lights from the fireworks reflected off their excited faces.

  The summer after that, we asked them where they wanted to go for their holidays.

  The answer was, ‘Disneyland!’

  I put my foot down and luckily their father had a shoot in London that year and I was able to convince them that visiting their Appa on location was an exciting prospect. They ended up having a good time and eventually gave up cribbing about missing Disneyland and its wonders.

  But the summer after that, there was no escape. I was done with Mickey and the gang and had grown out of my desire to be princess for a day (and they did not have a costume in my size, remember?). The kids put their foot down this time and begged, pleaded, cajoled and convinced me into doing a third trip. My husband gave in first. ‘They love it so much, and in a few years they will grow out of it. So why not indulge them?’

  Yatra was at the questioning stage of childhood. ‘Where is the kitchen on a plane? Why is it a pressure cabin? Who drives the plane when the pilot is eating? If it is on autopilot, why do we need a pilot at all? What is time difference? If they can serve chocolate cake, why can’t they serve strawberry too? Is Mickey real?’ He wouldn’t settle for my brief answers (so that I could get back to that much needed nap) and didn’t give up until he had a logical answer that satisfied him.

  This questioning was accompanied by a radically contrary habit of claiming independence from his mother. ‘I know how to put on the seatbelt, you don’t have to help me, Ma! I can go to the bathroom by myself. I can get my own boarding pass. Please let me carry my own passport, I am big enough, I won’t lose it.’

  I can tell you, running down the aisles and screaming seemed like a good option that day.

  So we landed in Hong Kong and went straight to the hotel where we had stayed three times already in five years. By now the staff there knew us by sight. The concierge even complimented me on my weight loss. (I know. It’s his job to butter up the guests.) We checked in and the boys started running about, which did not bother me much as there were fifty other kids doing the same thing around us. Obviously they were hyper excited and wanted to go to the park immediately. Realizing that if I refused, all that extra energy would be used to torment me, I agreed. So we took off, to the same rides, the same attractions, greeted the same characters. I realized I could lead an alternate life as a Disney tour guide. But I gradually started enjoying it. The place is so lovely and positive that you cannot help but smile. There were families o
f all sizes and kids of all ages having a wonderful time. Of course there were a few wailers and bawlers. Some because they wanted extra cotton candy, others scared when a human-sized Donald Duck waddled towards them.

  Yatra decided it was the perfect time to assert his independence even further. I lectured them constantly on the need to stick together but he would run ahead of us every time. He knew the place well, so he figured he could get away with it. I would get anxiety attacks every time he ran away from me into the crowds but he would just not listen. I was frazzled by the constant need to remind him, while keeping an eye on Linga. Horror stories about lost kids plus the fact that a few people had recognized us made me paranoid. It’s better to be safe than sorry, my own sheltered childhood had taught me that. We stopped at a candy truck, loaded ourselves with every sugary confection that met the eye, and were waiting to pay for it when Yatra spotted an ice-cream truck, which he wanted to raid immediately.

  I asked him to wait until I had finished paying, but Mr Independent decided to run ahead. He had a little money on him and, with a cocky air, instructed us to join him when we were done. It wasn’t too far away, so I could trace his path to the truck, and I saw him buy the ice cream and turn around. I couldn’t resist it. Towing the younger one behind me, I quietly hid behind the truck and waited. At first he waited for us to join him, then he took tentative steps around the truck. Finally he came back to the candy truck, looked around and still couldn’t find us. I could see the growing panic in his eyes. The jaunty air was gone and he started calling out for his mom. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he became increasingly desperate. The little boy who wanted his mom was back. My heart sank. Feeling terrible, I ran to him, hating myself, and gave him a hug. Between sobs and the tightest hug I had ever received from him, he said, ‘I was just putting on an act for you, Amma, I wasn’t scared at all. I was trying to scare you!’

  All I could do was kiss his blotchy face and enjoy the hugs and kisses while they lasted. A darker part of me hoped he had learned his lesson.

  Tough Love

  One relationship that has taken me by surprise is the one I share with my brother-in-law, Selvaraghavan. I never realized he would go from barely speaking to me to becoming my mentor.

  The first time he spoke with me was over the phone and he didn’t know who was at the other end. It happened when Dhanush and I had just started getting to know each other and were constantly chatting on the phone. Dhanush was travelling with Selva, who noticed his brother clinging to the phone, texting furtively and disappearing to make calls, even going into the bathroom with the phone. When he asked him about his sudden love affair with the phone, Dhanush avoided the question. One day Dhanush came into the room, talking on the phone, and fell on the couch next to Selva, who kept staring at him. Dhanush pointedly ignored him and kept talking. I’m sure it was some good-natured brotherly teasing.

  ‘So who is this girl you were talking to?’ Selva asked once Dhanush had put the phone down.

  ‘You know it’s a girl, right? Now let it be.’

  Selva kept staring at him.

  ‘It’s my girlfriend.’

  Selva was stunned into silence, but it didn’t last long. He started a relentless campaign to find out who it was. At first he thought it was the actress who was working with Dhanush at that point. Then suspicions fell on anyone even remotely connected with Dhanush in the past. Then he fell to investigating friends and their friends. Nobody knew anything. He came up with nothing and it was killing him.

  One afternoon, while they were together in a car, Dhanush’s phone rang and he picked it up. Selva announced that he wanted to say hello to the girl who had captured his brother’s heart. Dhanush asked me if it was okay, and I said yes. He passed the phone to his brother.

  Selva: ‘Hi.’

  Me: ‘Hi.’

  Selva: ‘So, how are you doing?’

  Me: ‘I’m good, thank you, and you?’

  Selva: ‘Yeah, fine. So what is your name?’

  Me: ‘Aishwaryaa.’

  Selva: ‘Hmm. Just Aishwaryaa… not Aishwarya Rai or Rajinikanth?’

  Me: ‘Rajinikanth, actually.’

  There was silence for a moment, then Selva hung up and turned to Dhanush.

  Dhanush: ‘What? Did she hang up?’

  Selva: ‘No, I did. She said she is Aishwaryaa Rajinikanth. I think I heard it wrong.’

  Dhanush: ‘No, you didn’t.’

  My brother-in-law nearly jumped out of his skin. At first he thought Dhanush was pulling a fast one, then he got excited and then worried.

  Selva: ‘This is Rajinikanth. Will he send goons to bash up my little brother?’

  Dhanush: ‘Ha ha… yes, if this were a movie.’

  Selva finally calmed down enough to feel embarrassed about disconnecting the phone and asked Dhanush to call me.

  I, on my part, hadn’t called back because I didn’t know what was happening. I just thought he was being rude, because he disapproved of our relationship. When the phone rang again, it was Selva.

  ‘Hi again. I’m sorry I hung up like that. You guys just took me by surprise.’

  So that was my introduction to my brother-in-law.

  Whenever we met after that, he would nod his head, not make much eye contact, maybe say a quick hello and walk off. I don’t think he spoke a complete sentence to me during that period. When I asked Dhanush, he just told me to let him be. He is a reserved person, I was told, and takes time to warm up to people. By the time I was married and came into the house, he had moved out, so I didn’t get to see much of him. I did hear from the staff at the house that he would enquire about my well-being whenever he came home and asked everyone to make sure I was comfortable. I found that very sweet.

  Once, Dhanush had to go for a shoot in Hyderabad for two months and I accompanied him. This was some time after our wedding. The movie was being directed by Selva and by then he had spent enough time with me for us to get along splendidly. I found him to be one of the most creative people I had met. He has a quirky personality and a completely out-of-the-box way of seeing things. I would often wonder how he came up with a scene or a situation in a movie. I loved sitting and chatting with him and we had some fun conversations throughout the shoot. The movie was Pudhupettai and it turned out to be a path-breaker. It portrayed the unglamorous side of criminal life, a rarity in Tamil cinema, with a flawed and dark protagonist played by Dhanush.

  It helped that Selva would always take my side when I had a tiff with Dhanush. He always made sure I was comfortable and looked after. He had a girlfriend who would get annoyed at times because he was being so attentive to me. I happened to overhear his reply to this complaint and it endeared him even more to me.

  He said, ‘She comes from a totally different background and she has never seen any hardship. I don’t want it to happen after she has married into our family. I feel protective about her as an elder brother.’

  Most of our conversations were about movies and he would often ask me when I was going to make my own film. A year or so later, he came home from a shoot in Hyderabad and we were having dinner when conversation turned to my career. I told him that maybe it was time I looked out for work as an assistant director before working on a script for myself. My son had turned three and he could be left with family for a part of the day. He listened patiently and that same evening, before we turned in for the night, he asked me to pack my bags and leave for Hyderabad with him. I refused, unable to even think of leaving my baby alone for two weeks. But Selva had already spoken to Dhanush and my mother about it. They would take turns looking after the baby. Selva was upset that I hadn’t thought of him in the first place and was looking around for work. He did not see any reason why I should work for someone else when there was a director in the family, who was making a movie right at that moment.

  I made excuses. How would Dhanush handle running the house? How would my toddler fare without me? Selva put his foot down. He told me that everyone could take care of t
hemselves when they were required to. Nobody was dependent on anybody. Since you take it upon yourself to do all these things, it’s become a habit for everyone, but if you are away, they will form new and independent habits, he said. Everyone had the right to pursue their dreams and if I really wanted to become a director, I should be willing to prioritize and take decisions accordingly, else I would be sitting at home and taking care of people for the rest of my life.

  I was still undecided. He left with an ultimatum. Either show up for the morning flight or never speak to him about it again. This was the last time he was giving me the opportunity. I ran to Dhanush for advice. He urged me to go. My mother was ecstatic about having her grandson for two weeks and Selva had already promised to let me travel to Chennai during the breaks in the shoot. Excited, nervous and unable to sleep, I decided I was going to do it.

  I took the flight to Hyderabad and we drove to the film city where the shoot was to take place and where we would be staying for the next two weeks. The movie was Ayirathil Oruvan. He put me up in a room next to him and made sure I was comfortable. The next day we had to go scout for locations and make decisions about the shoot, which was going to start the day after. I was a bit rusty, it had been years since I was on the groundwork team. The first and last time I had worked as an assistant before this was for my father’s movie, Baba, directed by Suresh Krishna. It was not much of an experience, I must say. I was more of an observer; no one would let me do any work. I managed to learn just two things—how to work a clapboard and how to write an edit report. The team would just shake their heads and say, ‘Ma’am, you don’t need to do this, you just watch and we’ll do it for you.’ I did learn a lot just by being on the set every single day and following the director around, but I did not have any hands-on experience.

  With Selva, the first day was almost similar. I went along with him and the team. There were two cars. I travelled in the car with him and when the day’s work was done, we left together for the hotel where we were staying. A little while later, he called and asked me to have dinner with him and during the meal he outlined what he wanted me to do. I needed to be at the shooting spot an hour before he came in. The only perk I would have is that I would be staying at the hotel in the room next to his, which was for my safety. I would travel with the other ADs, work with them, eat with them, and leave when they left. I would not be treated any differently. This was a different man sitting in front of me. Not my brother-in-law, but the director I was working under. It was a bit of a jolt for me, this difference in tone, but it felt good that he was taking me seriously, and I agreed.