Simple Memories

“The Pathétique sonata!”
“Correct, remember Mummy playing it?”
“Yes, very well. How can I forget,” Serena thought for a second before she continued. “It was on Saturdays, wasn’t it?”
“Sundays actually. I remember that because the servants had the day off.”
“Yes you’re right. Mummy used to sit at the piano and play while the roast was in the oven.”
Raj smiled. What beautiful and peaceful memories those were.
Upon the passing of their last parent, their father in June, Raj had the idea that he and his sister should meet twice a year in their parents’ home which would never be sold and kept in the family for perpetuity, and relive memories of their childhood. Serena didn’t think twice and jumped at the idea. The first time they met was on the anniversary of their mother’s passing which was in December.
“You know those were the last days I ever lived at home.”
“How old were you?” asked Serena listening intently to the music.
“12,” replied Raj, a not so great memory that had found a way to sneak in.
“That’s right. You went to boarding school the following year.”
“Yes when I was 13.”
“And that was the last time you lived at home? Oh wow! I forgot about that.”
“I came home during summer holidays, but that was it.”
They were now both lost in their own memories for a few minutes while the music played on. “Yes, Mummy you used to sit at the upright piano which was in the living room, while her shandy stood on the table next to her and you and I would sit on the floor on either side of her while Daddy sat in a chair behind her with his Kingfisher Beer.”
“It was Eagle beer. Kingfisher did come into being until many years later,” interrupted Raj and Serena nodded.
“I’ll give you that. I don’t drink beer so you would remember that better than I would. Then Mummy would go and make sure the roast wasn’t burning and then return to play some more. Is that how you remember it?”
“Basically, yes. All I would add is that Mummy was in the kitchen around 10 in the morning to begin prepping everything. It would be about 11 when she put the roast into the oven and then came into the living room. By then you and I would be sitting on the floor and Daddy would have her shandy and his beer ready.”
“What did we drink?” asked Serena.
“I don’t remember. Maybe some nimbu pani (lemon water).”
“No you’re right. I now remember. lemon barley water.”
Raj smiled. He never in his wildest dreams thought what he had suggested would turn out to be an emotional journey into their childhood. He kept fighting back tears. Serena was more composed. “You’re right. Then Mummy would sit on the stool and once she had it at the right height and distance from the piano, Daddy would come over with her shandy and his beer and they would say cheers, as we would to, and then take a sip.”
“They kissed, didn’t they?” asked Serena and Raj for the first time detected a softness in her words.
He ignored that as she would want him to. Serena continued. “Where were the dogs?”
“Well,” replied Raj once he had taken a sip of his imaginary lemon barley water, “well Chang would be sitting next to you, while Tiddles was next to me.”
Serena laughed. “What a strange name for a dog, Chang.”
“Especially because he had nothing to do with China. He was a Yorkshire Terrier.”
“And of course, Tiddles was a Dachshund.” They both laughed. “It was before we got Sandy.”
“Yes,” replied Raj slowly as memories switched from his Dachshund to the Scottish Terrier they got after Chang died. A memory neither brother nor sister wanted to be reminded of. There were differing stories of Chang’s demise and neither of them wanted to bring those back up.
“So it was the Pathétique Sonata or something else.”
“It’s the something else I’m having hard time remembering. But the Pathetique Sonata is easy to remember.”
“You know I play that home on Sundays.” said Serena to Raj’s surprise.
“You do?”
“Yes. In fact and this isn’t something most people know, and I don’t think I ever told Jyoti about it either, but I carry on the same traditions as Mummy and Daddy did on Sundays.”
“Including the roast?”
“Including the roast?”
“Yes. Except that Jyoti drinks Kingfisher and not Eagle.”
“Golden Eagle I think was the correct name.”
“Well whatever it was, he drinks Kingfisher and he makes me a shandy.”
Raj smiled sadly, “so does Jyoti think the tradition started with the two of you?”
“Yes he does. But don’t let on the secret.”
“Oh not me.”
“It think it’s great you do.”
“Don’t you and Sarah carry on any traditions from either her parents or from Mummy and Daddy.”
“Yes actually we do.”
“What’s that?”
“4 o’clock tea!” replied Raj with a broad grin.
“With sandwiches or cake?”
“Mostly samosas.”
“Samosas!” Serena sounded surprised. “Who makes those?”
“Oh we buy them from the Indian store.”
“Ok, ok, ok,” replied Serena, “why not sandwiches or cake?”
“We do that sometimes, or I’ll make toast.”
“With marmite?”
“Marmite for me, but Sarah doesn’t like it. She thinks it smells like dirty socks.”
Serena laughed. “Yes it does, but it does tastes good, that’s for sure.”
“Or I make tea cakes.”
“You bake?” Sarah was surprised.
“Oh I learnt to cook and bake out of necessity,” continued Raj, “having been on my own for so long and now I love to do both.”
“Not me!” replied Serena, “I can’t cook to save my life.”
“Well you can cook, just not well. I remember eating your biriyani once and thought it was a poor imitation of jambalaya.” Serena who was a bad cook and knew it, was offended by her brothers’ remark but didn’t want to pursue it just in case it brought about some acrimony between them.
As if on cue, they both stopped talking. As the music continued to play they sat there lost for a few precious minutes in the years past. It was Raj who was the first to break the silence.
“I see a lot of Mummy in you.”
“Do you?” Asked Serena who would’ve rather continued be lost in those wonderful childhood years.
“Yes, especially when you shop.”
“Ha!” That’s not true.”
“Oh yes. Remember how we hated to go shopping with Mummy because she would haggle with the shop keepers.”
“Yes most embarrassing,” replied Serena whose memories of her mother on Sundays at the piano had now been usurped.
“But you do the same.”
“No I don’t!” Serena felt insulted.
Raj laughed, “when I went with you to the store last year, you began haggling with the shop keeper.”
“Oh,” laughed Serena remembering the incident differently. “That’s because he was overcharging for the meat.”
Raj smiled at his sister and rubbed her hand. She let him. “That’s what Mummy you used to say.” Serena discarded her brother’s comment with a wave of her hand. Yes, she was just like their mother Raj thought. Yes, just like their mother. He hoped she never changed. He looked at his sister with her eyes closed listening to the music. He could picture her playing the piano on Sundays.