GRANDMOTHER’S TEETH

(Story)

By N. K. SETH

I remember when we were very young, my brother and I used to look forward to our annual visit to grandmother’s house in Hardwar. Grandmother was an embodiment of kindness and she spoiled us children, with all the tasty titbits her kitchen used to be filled with. She never ate much herself but had a weakness for over-feeding others. We used to feel a smug delight also on hearing our mother being scolded in just the same way as mother used to scold us. It was some consolation to us, especially to my brother, to hear grandmother chiding our mother, ‘You will never change, you will have the same habits...as if you had not grown up at all.’ We discovered then that mother too had been upto the same tricks as we, once upon a time. Of course we never said anything to her about it because she was always trying to impress upon us how good she had been as a child.

Grandmother was a thin wiry little lady who never tired of house work even at her age–something that amazed us. We stood in awe of her–my brother and I, for she always thought of the right thing at the right moment and knew exactly the time we would be in need of toffee, sweets or pickles. To us children she personified strength and character, love and devotion, and above all someone who afforded us a very pleasant holiday.

Grandmother was not beautiful like most other grandmothers we knew. She was neither plump and round nor laughing all the time like some grandmothers would. She could at times make the servants tremble and even keep mother silent. We children always felt at ease with her though and believed we knew all her secrets. Yes, when she opened her boxes behind closed doors, only we were allowed to come in and peep into them. Oh, what lovely things she had! Her hope chest was full of beautiful clothes and articles of silver, some for me and some for my brother, she said, when we grew up and got married. There were many pieces of rock sugar and almonds in the trunks too. This she allowed us to fill our pockets with. On one such occasion my brother insisted that she take a bite too. But she refused. When he persisted, a rare thing for him, she again refused saying she could not eat hard things because she had false teeth. We looked at each other in alarm. What did she mean? This was something new to us; we hung on either side of her and demanded to see her teeth. She obliged us by smiling wide but there didn’t appear anything odd to us. ‘What is the difference between real and false teeth? How do you grow them?’ I asked. ‘They can’t be grown’...laughed grandmother, ‘You have to get them from the Dentist. He is a Doctor for the teeth, look...’ and said, giving them a push upwards, making a clicking sound which intrigued us immensely as we watched her. ‘At night I remove them and place them in a mug of water...now come along my pieces of liver (a fond expression in Punjabi), let’s close the trunks...’ My brother’s eyes met mine and were held together in perfect understanding at the thought of what would happen if grandmother lost her teeth. The prospect of seeing her mouth empty of teeth made us burst out laughing. We made our plans.

Children can be heartless little brutes when they want to, even when it concerns some one they love. Of course one only takes liberty with those whom one loves. After all she was our own grandmother. That night we decided not to sleep until grand-mother took out her teeth. She slept in our room and the mug which she referred to stood on the window sill just near to our bed, which we had never taken notice of before. My brother and I slept together in the big bed. It was nearing winter and very cold. We were wrapt up every night under a big quilt and two blankets tucked in nicely. With such cosy warmth we found it difficult to keep our eyes open. We whispered and giggled at our plan to dispose of grandmother’s teeth. It seemed ages before we heard the sound of wooden clogs. Grandmother came inside humming her evening prayer and moved around the room. Then she peered down at us, murmured a prayer to remove the effect of any evil eye cast on us. She fussed about with our blankets while we must have looked like two cherubs in deep slumber. Then we heard the click and the splash as she dropped her teeth into the mug. Quietly then she entered our mother’s bedroom for a chat. The stage was set.

It was decided beforehand by us that my brother would be the hero of the piece, but now he remained very still. I nudged him hard to remind him. He peered at my face in the semi-darkness and whispered that I should also accompany him. My heart sank. ‘Don’t be a coward. Any other boy would have thought nothing about it...’ I scolded. Of course it had a magic effect on him. He crept out of bed and taking the mug (into which I stared for a while in disbelief and then shrank back in horror for it was an ugly sight) he quietly disappeared from the room. I prayed hard for his safe return–safe from detection. My head lifted slightly; I kept my eyes glued on to the half opened door of my mother’s bedroom, straining my ears to make sure of the steady flow of conversation. I turned round suddenly to find my brother standing beside the bed still and tense. I sighed with relief. He suddenly collected his wits and jumped back into his place. We covered our faces and clung to each other, feeling the full impact of what we had done. Then suddenly remorse overtook me. I pictured our darling grand-mother without her teeth and, oh, how would she eat? As it was she ate very little, always anxious to feed others though, and how happy she was to see us children delight over special preparations–and this was how we were repaying her. Tears or remorse stung my eyes as all these thoughts tortured me. I removed the quilt and looked at my brother. He stared back. I searched his face for any feeling of regret. His face was motionless as he stared back–no sign of guilt or remorse in his eyes. I sniffed. ‘Oh, what have we done. Poor dear grandmother!’ ‘Sissy,’ he hissed back. My heart stood still, how heartless boys were...how unfeeling! ‘Oh, what will darling grandmother do.’ I sobbed. ‘She will get more teeth from the teeth doctor...’ answered my brother in a matter-of fact tone,...‘if you start crying, booby, they will come and don’t forget you are to blame too; I didn’t want to go but you called me a coward...’ In spite of myself I soon fell asleep.

Next morning we were awakened by the commotion in the house. For a while we sat dazed trying to comprehend the extent of our mischief. The servants ran about the house breathless, overturning things and looking underneath others, even under our bed because the mug had a permanent place on the window near us. Mother looked exhausted and upset, but grandmother, though agitated, directed the search like a military commander, now scolding the servants, now cursing herself–for her absentmindedness–perhaps she had left them in the bathroom or kitchen or ? It was funny, exclaimed grandmother, she had never misplaced the teeth before. We did not come under suspicion but we were certainly being punished all the same, everybody forgot us–even grandmother. No hot milk and biscuits were brought up to our room. We remained huddled up in bed–silent and frightened. I had one question uppermost in my mind and, though we were alone at times. I was too afraid to speak. I wanted to know where my brother had thrown the teeth...We had discussed the drain pipe as the best possible place but what actually happened to them in the end I didn’t know. My brother was looking pale and sheepish. Neither of us could enjoy the joke any longer. We were hungry. As time passed mother soothed grandmother and suggested ordering a new set. The search was over, grandmother having reached the conclusion that some abnormal cat or rodent had escaped with them...there was nothing else to explain the mystery.

After an indifferent breakfast, time dragged on to lunch time and when we sat down to eat we caught sight of grandmother sitting in the sun outside, wrapped in a shawl, looking pensive and sad. The tiny figure cut us and it was the first time that grandmother was not sitting with us looking after our needs personally while we ate. The meal was badly cooked, the servant having made it. My brother looked at his ‘thali’¹ and then at grandmother. It was too much for him...too much for his appetite–no proper breakfast and now this insipid lunch. He ran towards her. Hugging her tight he said, ‘Oh grandmother, please don’t look so sad...I will search for your teeth.’ Before she could say anything he ran off disappearing for a while, leaving me in a state of confusion and discomfort. Was he after all going to give the whole show away…was he going to betray ourselves? Where had he hidden them? He soon returned brandishing her teeth unceremoniously in both hands and shouting for joy. Grandmother was so excited like a child with a new toy. Everyone came crowding round them as grandmother hugged and kissed my brother spanking him lovingly...‘I know my darling is going to be a great man. He is cleverer than all put together. Come, ‘my piece of liver’! I am going to make some coffee just now...Now let me see what has he given you for lunch…’ She gushed in happiness entering the kitchen too excited to put questions. But mother glanced at my brother very suspiciously. After all, however, she decided not to put uncomfortable questions when all had ended well...it was a relief to all. When we were alone I pounced the question uppermost in my mind, ‘Where did you throw them? It’s good they did not go down the drain pipe after all.’ For the first time my suspicions were frantically aroused when I saw him remove himself to a safe distance….they were too large for the drain pipe…I didn’t know where to hide them, so...’ he smiled mischievously, ‘When you were not looking I placed them under your pillow!’

¹ Plate

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