A Story by Fathima Fara

If nothing works right, try reverse psychology!


Ripped jeans, beads on hands and neck, glittery green "POISON IVY" sprawled across her black t-shirt and streaks of magenta on her pixie cut - anyone could surmise, by her appearance, that Sarika was either a hippy or a musician. She was a singer who sings her heart out (her mother calls it, "screaming in agonizing pain") in her band called 'Poison Ivy'. She had her own bohemian way of life that always delighted her.

Sarika entered the house, rubbing her stomach, exclaiming, "What's for dinner mom?... I just want to eat the homemade delicious food cooked by my beautiful mother. The 'l' of 'delicious' stayed and lingered on the tip of her tongue a few seconds longer than necessary. Neither Sarika nor her mother heard the gleeful smirk of the old lady lying inside one of the bedrooms.

The old woman, who was Sarika's paternal grandmother had a smug face every time she found her granddaughter cajoling her mother to get her nod for something. In fact, Sarika never did anything without her mother's approval. She had succeeded in getting it most of the time she sought it except for a few instances. (when she wanted to go on blind dates, have random body piercings, take a 'sniff', etc.,)

After having a hearty meal, Sarika sauntered into the room where her grandma was lying supine.

Her grandma asked her quietly, "So, what is the mission?"

"How do you know that there is a mission?", said Sarika eyeing her surprised.

"You are just like your father."

"So... Can you help me?"

"I can try."

"Listen, my band has been qualified for performing in a Music Fest in London. You know my mother and her tantrums. She needs manipulation and persuasion. And I think, this time, the chances of her permitting me is lean."

The old lady rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "I see... So, what's the deal?"

Sarika bent towards her and whispered something into her ear. She grinned and shook hands with her granddaughter for it was indeed, a gentleman's agreement. Meanwhile, Sarika's mother picked up her mobile phone which was ringing noisily for the second time then.

Before she could say 'hello', the voice at the other end said, "SARS...?"

She shuddered every time when her daughter's name was deformed by her friends. She had named her daughter lovingly after her late mother and it irked her ever since she learnt that SARS is a respiratory disease.

"There is no SARS, Malaria or AIDS here!!!", her exasperated voice ended with a bark. Her daughter sprinted towards her and grabbed the mobile, her eyes pleading.

Again, the old lady sniggered clearly amused by her daughter-in-law's irritation. She derived a sadistic pleasure out of it.

Sarika gave her mother a 'buffer period' to brood.

After a while, when she saw her mother back in her good mood, she approached her. She had faced several other "walk a tightrope" situation, only, now it is a knife instead of a tight rope. Although she believed in her secret savior.

"Mother, have I ever told you that my dream is to become a big famous singer?"


"Well, it is because, statistically, pronounced dreams often don't come true. They fail. But, now, I think my dream is gonna come true if you wish."

"If I wish? How?"

"Our band has been selected to perform at a musical festival in London and it is huge for us."

Sarika's mother nodded her head sideways, her lips pursed which inferred that she is totally against the idea. But, before she could open her mouth to refuse, the old lady came running into the living room where they were sitting.

"What is it?", she enquired.

"Nothing that concerns you!", said Sarika angrily, without spilling a hint about the agreement.

"Everything in this home concerns me. I am the eldest of you all and my decision will be the final", she shouted, her nose flaring. "I don't want you to be wasted like your mother. Look at you, your hair and your clothes. You look nothing like a girl. And what is the ugly tattoo on your neck? hmmpfff... This is the last hay. I heard everything. I am not permitting you anywhere out of the house."

"Sarika, you are going.", said her mother calmly, smiling triumphantly, ignoring her mother in law. She liked her annoyed and derived a sadistic pleasure out of it.

Sarika's heart did somersaults inside. "Thank you, mom. You are the best", she hugged her mother tight who was now giving a stink eye to her mother in law who was grumbling curses.

 A day after Sarika returned from her musical tour, her cupboard was filled with souvenirs. Her grandmother opened her secret vault containing loads of exquisite, divine chocolates to take a lustful bite. All from London! Hush hush!

© 2016 Fathima Fara

Author's Note

Fathima Fara
If you like it, please visit my blog for more,

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you nailed it,a hippie or a musician,lol,what`s the difference

Posted 7 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Fathima Fara

7 Years Ago

Thanks Ron! :D
I like this part the best

Before she could say 'hello', the voice at the other end said, "SARS...?"

She shuddered every time when her daughter's name was deformed by her friends.

Posted 7 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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2 Reviews
Added on August 9, 2016
Last Updated on August 9, 2016
Tags: Grandparents, deceive, women


Fathima Fara
Fathima Fara

Bengaluru, Karnataka, India

An aspiring writer and a compulsive and greedy reader. more..

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