And then you came home and started cooking.” Saroj laughed even as tears filled her eyes. “We were so shocked that you were cooking the way you were. I thought you were crazy, dropped a few nuts and bolts somewhere.”
Devi licked her lips. “I'm planning on going to culinary school after we come back from India.”
Saroj's first reaction was to object. Her daughter a cook? It was one thing to cook in one's home, but to cook in a hotel or some other place for strangers? But Devi looked so happy that she reined back that thought. If it made her daughter happy then it must be the right thing for her to do.
And who's going to pay for all this?” Saroj demanded.
“Daddy said he'd pay for it all,” Devi said. “You don't mind, do you?”
“No, our money is your money,” Saroj said and laughed a little. “Sitting here with you makes me happy. I can't believe I can feel happy. Everything is going wrong. Everything. And I can still laugh. Isn't that amazing?”
“Yes,” Devi said. “It's terrific.”
“What's terrific?” A sleepy Shobha asked as she came into the kitchen. “Can't you two be quiet for a while? It's five in the fucking morning and you're making a ruckus.”
She sat down on the other side of Saroj at the dining table and put her head on the table. “I want to sleep, I'm even sleepy, but I can't sleep. I keep tossing and turning.”
“That is how God is punishing you for divorcing your husband,” Saroj said, getting up from her chair. “Chai?” she asked her daughters, who nodded.
“I'm not divorcing him, we're divorcing each other. There's a difference,” Shobha pointed out. “Shit, is that G'ma?” she asked, looking at the brass urn.
“Yup,” Devi said.
“Gives me the creeps having her here,” Shobha said and then grinned. “But also feels right to have her here, doesn't it? A whole G'ma now in a small little pot.”
“Mama, put daichi in my chai,” Devi instructed.
“And lots of sugar in mine, and no cardamom, please,” Shobha piped in.
Saroj folded her hands into fists and rested them against her waist. “Does this look like a hotel to you both? One wants daichi and the other doesn't. I will make it one way and you can drink it or not.”
“Please, Mama,” Shobha pleaded sleepily and then looked at Devi. “Why can't you go whip up some chai, Miss Culinary School?”
“Because I reserve my talents for five-star restaurants only,” Devi quipped.
Saroj looked at her daughters bicker and smiled. Yes, it was right to have Vasu here. In the old days the first night of Vasu's visit would be spent here; four women, spanning three generations, would gossip, nag, and fight. Oh, all the time she'd wasted being angry at Vasu, at Avi, at Devi, at Shobha. It was so unnecessary. She wished she'd had this epiphany before Vasu died, but realized that if Vasu were still alive, everything, especially how she felt about her, would be unchanged.
“So, what're you planning to do, stay unemployed and divorced?” Devi asked Shobha.
“First, there's the trip to India to dispense of G'ma in the Bay ofBengal. And then maybe I'll seduce this Ukrainian programmer I hired in my ex-company” Shobha said with a gleeful smile because she knew that talk like this would evoke a strong reaction from her mother.
“Chee-chee, Shobha, you talk like a cheap loose woman,” Saroj said on cue.
“But he's a nice guy, Mama. Speaks with an accent. I wonder if he does other things with an accent,” Shobha said, grinning at Devi.
“I once dated a Turkish guy,” Devi joined in, “and he was—”
“I will pour chai over both your heads if you talk about things like this,” Saroj said as she placed two cups of tea in front of them. “Yours has elaichi, and four spoons of sugar in yours,” she told Devi and Shobha.
“Come on, Mama, didn't you have any crushes while you were growing up?” Shobha asked. They'd had this flavor of a conversation several times. Usually Saroj told them that good Indian girls didn't indulge in nonsense like this.
“Once,” Saroj admitted finally, and both Shobha and Devi gave out a hoot of laughter. Saroj smiled cockily and sipped her tea. “He was my classmate in college. Very handsome. His name was Jitan and I was madly in love with him.”
“So what happened?” Devi asked.
“Nothing,” Saroj said casually. “In those days not much happened to good girls.”
“Right,” Shobha muttered, drinking her oversweet tea. “And that's how you lassoed Daddy? By being a good girl?”
“Of course,” Saroj said with a naughty smile. “You can achieve a lot by being a good girl.”
“I was a good girl and I ended up with Girish,” Shobha muttered.
“And he was a good man,” Saroj reminded her.
“Yes, he was,” Shobha said, looking at Devi.
“And decent,” Saroj said. “He called and said he was sorry about Vasu and apologized for the divorce. I understand you both can't be together but that doesn't make him bad. What do you think, Devi?”
“About what?” Devi all but choked on her cardamom tea.
“About Girish,” Shobha supplied sweetly. “You know, there are some good culinary schools in Europe, maybe some near Oxford. You could nail the art of English cuisine.”
Devi's mouth turned mutinously and she tried to shush her sister by kicking her under the table.
“And you could hook up with Girish as well. It's not like you know a lot of people in England,” Shobha continued cheerfully, ignoring Devi.
“Why go all the way there? And she doesn't have to hook up with Girish. Geeta Auntie's brother lives in London, he'll take care of her,” Saroj said confidently. “I've heard of a good school here in Napa and that will be just fit for her.”
“Yes, it will be fit if they'll have me,” Devi said and then looked pointedly at Shobha. “But who knows, maybe I will end up in Oxford for some other reason.”
“Ah,” was all Shobha said before burying her nose in her cup of tea.
“What ah?” Saroj asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Devi said quickly and this time succeeded in silencing Shobha by kicking her under the table. “Isn't it nice to sit here like this? All of us,” she said in an effort to divert Saroj's attention.
“Yes,” Saroj said, looking at the brass urn on the table.
“Very nice,” Shobha agreed with a broad smile. “So, Devi, aren't you glad you didn't die in the bathtub and miss these wonderfully nice moments?”
“Shobha!“ Saroj cried out and Devi started laughing.
Avi woke up because of all the noise. When he didn't see Saroj next to him in bed, he immediately worried that she was crying again. The sorrow of losing Vasu ran deep, and it tore at him that he could do nothing to ease either his pain or the pain of his wife and daughters.
He quietly tiptoed into the kitchen. He could hear Shobha, Devi, and Saroj. He was afraid he'd find them mourning. So he stood out of their line of vision, not wanting to intrude on their sorrow.
Dawn was breaking outside, spilling into the dining area from the large French windows behind the dining table. He could, if he turned just a little to the right, see the silhouettes of three women, stark against the white walls. In the unclear light of dawn, it looked as if they were holding hands and then he heard the rich sound of laughter.
A Conversation with Amulya Malladi
Devi Veturi, the protagonist of Serving Crazy with Curry, and Amulya Malladi met at an indiscnminate time and place to have this conversation. In the middle of the conversation things went a little crazy as Shobha, Saroj, and even Vasu showed up to chat (accuse?).
Devi: In the first version of this book, which you titled Thicker than Blood, I die and then my sister, Shobha, becomes the protagonist. What happened? How did I live?
Amulya: Well, you did die in the first version. I wrote about two hundred pages of that book and then realized that it wouldn't work. I couldn't sleep at night and feel content about how the book was falling i
nto place, so I knew that it needed to be scrapped. I scrapped it and went back and wrote it again and again and again. That suicide scene where you slit your wrists has been written innumerable times. But then, one day, it struck me that you'd live, you'd stop speaking and you'd start cooking weird food. And the title of the book would be Serving Crazy with Curry. It all just fell into place … like magic.
I have a question for you. Why did you try to commit suicide? Someone who read the book said to me that this kind of bad stuff happens to lots of people and lots of people don't kill themselves.
Devi: Lots of people are not me. I think it's important to remember that my emotions and my feelings are different from everyone else's. You are probably strong enough to deal with a loss of career, loss of a baby, loss of a man in your life, and loss of self-respect, but I wasn't. And like I said, it was not just a careless thought, it was planned. I really wanted to die. I couldn't see any reason to live. Imagine this: You hate going to sleep every night because tomorrow is going to be the same empty day and when you finally go to sleep you hate waking up because it's going to be the same crappy day. I think after a while you reach a point where you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel and it all becomes pointless.
Amulya: But now you're smart enough to know that killing yourself was not such a bright idea.
Devi: It's not fair to call it a stupid idea. It was what it was and it seemed like a good idea then. I can't go back and live my life. I can only live forward. If I had to do it again, I hope I wouldn't try to kill myself but I can't be sure ofthat.
Amulya: Now, the whole Girish business; were you really in love with him? Or did you sleep with him because he was Shobha's and that would be a nice “F*** you” to your sister?
Devi: I would never use language like that. That's Shobha's style.
But yeah, I think it was a little of both. I was in love with Girish and even though I knew I could never let Shobha find out about us, there was a small perverse pleasure in sleeping with her husband. But when I told her the truth there was no pleasure, perverse or otherwise. I was terrified of losing Shobha and I realized that I didn't love Girish enough to lose my family. They were more important.
Amulya: I have to know, why the cooking?
Devi: I'd like to know as well. Since you wrote it in, why don't you tell me?
Amulya: Hmm … well, I think you started cooking all that fusion cuisine because you wanted to do something that was different, yet you wanted to hold on to what was. You wouldn't speak, so you used food as a communicating medium. You expressed your feelings through it, joy, fear, boredom, anger … all ofthat.
Devi: You mean, since I stopped speaking as a result of my traumatic experience, I had to do something, and cooking was it?
Amulya: Absolutely! A budding hobby that I think will make a fabulous profession for you.
Devi: I love to cook. The smell, the texture, the taste … everything. Do you cook?
Amulya: I think you like to cook because I like to cook. Also, another reason why you were cooking like a veteran chef was because the kitchen had always been Saroj's domain and your trying to take that domain away from her was a subconscious effort on your part to tell her that you can control your life since you can control her kitchen. You were asking her to back off. She saved your life but you didn't want her to take control of it now that you were alive. And speaking of Saroj … I'd like to talk to you about your mother.
Devi (sighs): Do we have to?
Amulya: Well, I thought you all made up, nice and neat in the end.
Devi: Your end is not my end and we didn't make up nice and neat. Well, we're on better terms than we used to be … but she's still a pain in the ass.
Saroj: Mind your language, Devi. Talking about your mother like this, you should be ashamed.
Devi: This is a private conversation, Mama, you can't just barge in.
Saroj: There are no private conversations for you. After pulling a stunt like that in your bathtub, do you really think we're going to let you talk to anyone you feel like without knowing what you're talking about?
Devi: Oh, Lord! Here she goes again.
Saroj: One thing I want to make clear. I am not a terrible mother or a terrible cook. You kept saying that all the time, Amulya, and it hurt my feelings.
Amulya: I … I … am sorry … ah, well, so, how are you doing since your mother passed away?
Saroj (shrugs): It is very hard to lose a mother … a parent. Now I remember her with great joy, but I also know that if she was alive I would still be despising her.
Amulya: Do you think Shobha and Devi will always have mixed feelings about you?
Saroj: Why should they? I have been a good mother. My mother was never around, I have always been around. They have no reason to dislike me or have mixed feelings about me.
Amulya: And how are things with Avi?
Saroj (smiles): Wonderful. I didn't know about the letters, you know. I wish I had known what he was going through, I wish … maybe if I had known, I would have been different. I don't know. But I am happy my marriage survived. I look at Shobha … so many boyfriends since the divorce …
Shobha (comes in and interrupts): Don't exaggerate, Mama. Just one. I have just one boyfriend and have had only one, this one, since Girish.
Amulya: Vladimir?
Shobha (laughs and shakes her head): Hell no! A guy who hits on a married woman is not a very nice guy. Actually, this is someone I met through my new job. I got hired as a director at Microsoft, did I tell you? It's wonderful working there and I met him at this breakfast meeting. He works for MSNBC and … we clicked.
Saroj: Clicked? My foot. He is some foreigner, from Scotland or Ireland or something.
Shobha: He's Italian. He has the accent, you know, gives me the goose bumps. Mama just doesn't get it.
Saroj: I do get it. You leave your good husband and sleep around like a loose woman. No shame, Shobha, you have no shame.
Amulya: Well, looks like things are pretty much back to normal.
Shobha: Of course. Did you really think things would change?
Devi: I've got to go, a seminar at school. Jamie Oliver is coming. I'm so excited about seeing him.
Amulya: So, things are going well at the culinary school?
Devi: Fabulous! I already have three job offers for when I graduate next summer, one right here, one in Atlanta, and one … in Europe.
Shobha: Ask her where in Europe.
Devi: I'm not leaving the U.S.
Amulya: No plans to go to Oxford?
Saroj: Why should she go to Oxford? She has a job in San Francisco. She will take that.
Devi: I'll probably go to Atlanta. I don't know. I haven't made any decisions. Look, I really have to go now.
Amulya: It was nice talking to all of you.
Saroj: You make sure you clear it up that I am a good cook and a good mother.
Shobha: She will, Mama, she will.
[Everyone leaves.]
Amulya: Whew! Odd to have a conversation with people I created. Very odd! Maybe I need to get some help.
Vasu: Before you do that, maybe you and I should talk.
Amulya: You're dead.
Vasu: Sure. But then none of us really exist and you're still chatting away with us. So does it really matter that I am dead?
Amulya: Okay. What do you want to talk about?
Vasu: I think you misunderstood me. I loved Shekhar, yes, but I also loved Saroj, very much.
Amulya: Not just as much.
Vasu: But I loved Devi more than anyone else. I thought about it and realized that you made a mistake. You show me as this selfish woman …
Amulya: Never selfish. You were a woman with screwed up priorities, but you were never selfish.
Vasu (smiles): That is something then. I don't want people to think that I don't have the capacity to love. I loved my daughter, my granddaughters, Avi, even Girish. I loved them all. But I also loved Shekhar.
Amulya: I und
erstand. You held the family together in many ways. I think Saroj wouldn't have fought to make things work with Avi if you hadn't been her mother. Devi would've broken Shobha's heart and her parents’ if she hadn't known what it meant to love a married man through you.
Vasu: I guess I gave them the good with the bad. So, does Devi have a new man in her life?
Amulya (grins): I think she's still mooning over her sister's ex-husband.
Vasu (smiles back): They will make a lovely couple. She will love him madly and he will adore her… maybe they will get together; have children, the nice house … everything.
Amulya: I'd like that. It would be scandalous enough and it would burn Sarofs ass.
Vasu (laughs): Well, thanks for the chat. I better get going. And as a doctor, my recommendation would be for you to get some help. It isn't healthy, Amulya, to talk with characters in your books, dead or alive.
Reading Group Questions and Topics for Discussion
Why does Malladi choose to open the book by discussing the “day it would happen,” specifically delineating Devi's plans for suicide? What tone does this choice lend to the narrative? Why do you think the author presents Devi's decision-making process, instead of opening the book with the suicide attempt itself?
What does Devi's list of reasons to live and die indicate about her values and the problems she faces ? Why do you think she commits suicide?
Saroj admits that she often “thinks of leaving her family without warning” (p. 15). What holds Saroj back, but propels Devi forward? How are the two women more similar than either of them would like to admit?
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