5 Kilograms of Love

Chapter 3 

I came back home bragging about myself and how the art teacher had appreciated my painting in front of the whole class.

My grandfather and papa were happy to hear it, but granny—sitting there with no expression and absolutely no excitement—just stayed quiet. (Her smart way of discouraging me.)

Papa said, “How wonderful. I’m so proud of you! I was also very good at singing and drawing back in my school days.”

I said, “Really… you were? That’s so cool!”

Granny chimed in, “Also bad at studies, like you.”
(It is much better when she stays quiet.)

Papa smiled and said, “Yeah… I always used to get punished by my teachers.”
(I’m truly his child.)

Then Papa asked, “What do you want as a prize for making such a beautiful painting?”

I paused. This had to be something special.
After thinking long and hard, I said, “Biscuits.”

Papa said, “Sure, baby.”
Then he turned to Granny, who pretended she hadn’t heard a thing.

He said, “Please give her some biscuits—she made a great painting at school today.”

After a few minutes, Granny finally replied, “I will… in some time. You carry on with your shop work.”
(She is pure evil.)

Papa, before leaving for his shop, told me, “Don’t worry. Granny will give you the biscuits soon.”
(Sweet Papa… he doesn’t know anything about Granny.)

I stayed close to her, eagerly waiting, but she kept ignoring me, busy with her knitting.

After half an hour, she got up—and I started walking behind her.

Granny said, “Don’t follow me. I’m going to the toilet.”
I asked, “What about my biscuits? When will I get them?”

She replied, “Don’t be so impatient.”

After the toilet, she went straight to the kitchen. (Not to help Mom, but to nag her.)

Granny said to Mom, “This soup dal is too thin. Nobody will like it.”

Mom asked, “What should I do now?”

Granny said, “Make another dish. Mixed vegetables for your father-in-law, and also paneer for Lata. She doesn’t like mixed vegetables.”

Then she muttered, “This house cannot be functional without me.”
(True… otherwise it would be like heaven.)

While she took her own sweet time in the kitchen, I tried distracting myself by watching television—

But really, my entire attention was on Granny.

After one hour, I asked her, “Now can I have my biscuits?”

She said, “Have you finished your homework?”

I said, “Long time back.”
(She can never find out anyway—she’s not educated.)

Granny raised an eyebrow. “But I didn’t see any books in your hand.”

I said, “Oh… the teacher didn’t give homework today. It was her birthday.”

She made that face and gave me that look.
(‘Nobody can fool me… not you, stupid.’)

Then she said, “Go and water the plants on the terrace.”

I groaned, “But it’s so hot right now…”

She snapped, “Do it as I say.”
(Biscuits are starting to feel more like punishment than reward.)

Half-heartedly, and quite absent-mindedly, I watered the plants and came rushing back to her.

She asked, “Did you water all the plants properly? I’ll go and check.”
(That she will do. Better not to lie.)

I said, a bit unsure, “I think so… maybe I’ll just go and check again myself.”
(I really don’t want to make her angry.)

This time, I watered them properly. Every single one. Then I returned.

She said, “Oh now you’re late. Your aunt has started her temple rituals, and the room keys are in there—where all the biscuits are kept. Let her finish first. She doesn’t want anyone to disturb her.”
(One more hour. She’s definitely testing my patience.)

Now, all my attention was on my aunt.
I kept checking on her—slowly opening the temple door and quickly closing it again.
But she could feel I was standing outside. (Like a ghost)
I was excited.
And she was getting irritated.
When would she finish her prayer?
When would I get my biscuits?

Then Granny said, “I’m going to the shop. I’ll be back soon.”

The moment she left, my aunt finished her prayer and scolded me,
“How many times do I have to tell you not to disturb me?”
(What did I do???)

Granny came back in the late afternoon.
By then, I felt like a person wondering in the desert for many days.

I ran to her and said, “Can I have my biscuits now?”

Granny said, “Your problem is that you don’t have any patience.”
(Clearly she has a different definition of  patience.)

Then she said, “I’ve just come back. Let me drink some water and rest. You are so mean.”

I don’t know how she always makes me feel guilty.

My real problem is—I never know what to say at the right time.

So I shouted, “Enough! I want my biscuits!”

Granny said, “You are so rude! No biscuits for such a rude child. That’s your punishment.”

I said, “Keep your biscuits. I don’t want them. Let Papa come, I’ll tell him everything!”

(Oh no… I said my plan out loud. Now she has time to get her story ready.)

Granny gave me the look.

When Papa came home in the evening, Granny was ready—with a glass of water and with her answer.

Before I could say a word, she began,
“Your daughter has an attitude problem. She spoke very badly to me today and hasn’t studied at all. She’s a stubborn child, doesn’t listen to me or anyone… I didn’t give her biscuits as punishment.”

Papa listened to her patiently. (Had she already influenced his innocent mind?)

Then Granny said to papa, “Now come and have dinner with me. I made your favourite dish.”

Papa went with her. I stood there, watching. My eyes were filled with tears and frustration. (She can do anything to satisfy her ego.)

Later, Papa came to me and said gently, “Baby, it’s okay to apologise to Granny.”

I said, “No. I won’t.”

Granny, overhearing, scoffed, “Look at her attitude. And you still want me to give her biscuits?”

Papa turned to her and said, “She’s just a child. All she wants is some biscuits. Please, just give her.”

Granny made a face, then walked off slowly to the temple room where she kept her keys. Then she disappeared into her room to get my biscuits— No one could enter her secret room except Grandpa, Auntie, and Sonu.

Her room was like Ali Baba’s secret cave.

Granny has a separate closet for everything.

1st Closet – For the big stash of money she collects from Papa’s shop.
She fools him by saying, “I’m saving it all for your children’s education, marriage, and their bright future.”
(Guess what? Papa believes her.)

2nd Closet – A magical land of goodies: sweets, almonds, candies, confectionery, and much more. Basically, Willy Wonka’s vault—locked.

3rd Closet – Gold. All bought under the grand title of “investment.” (She will only pass it to her favourite daughter Lata)

4th Closet – Gifts she receives from people but doesn’t like. She’s just waiting for a wedding or a housewarming to pass them on—unopened.

5th Closet – More money. Yes, another one.

All closets are locked. And all are inside her room.

It took her twenty whole minutes to come out. 

She handed 4 biscuits to me like she was giving me a royal pardon. 

All this for only 4 biscuits, my eyes filled with tears.

“I want the whole packet!” I yelled.

Granny turned to Papa. “See how she behaves?”

Then she turned to me, “You are such a bad child.”
(And you are a crook.)

I threw the four biscuits on the table. Manu, my silent and superfast cousin, grabbed them instantly and vanished.

Granny folded her hands like it was the end of the story.
“Well. Now they’re gone too. Your mistake. No more biscuits.”

That was it. I marched up to the terrace.
My kingdom.
The only place she didn’t control.

While I was burning in anger on the terrace, a good-looking boy from the neighbour’s balcony waved at me.
(And just like that, I was back to normal again.)

Papa stayed quiet through it all.
We all know Papa is helpless. He respects his mother too much.
(Bad influence of scriptures, where every story tells how a child should behave, but there’s never anything for the parents.)

The Next Day

At home, the doorbell rang.

Gauri, my younger sister, chirped, “You wait here, Granny. I’ll open the door.”
(She somehow knows the art of keeping everyone happy. How, I don’t know?!)

She ran to the door.

From her room, Granny shouted, “Who is it?”

Gauri yelled back, “There’s a big parcel!”

Granny snapped, “Impossible! I didn’t order anything. It must be wrongly addressed.”
(No one dares to order anything without her permission.)

Gauri said, “But he’s saying it’s for us only. Book shop Uncle ji has sent it.”

Granny came running out like a missile.

“To the delivery man,” she said, “Are you sure Book Shop Uncle sent this? What is it?”

The man replied, “It’s a pack of biscuits, Aunty ji.”

Granny’s eyes widened. “But it’s so huge!”

The delivery man said, “Yes, it’s five kilos of biscuits.”

Granny gasped. “Are you crazy?!”

He shrugged, “Aunty ji, why are you scolding me?”

She muttered, “This can’t be right. My son would never order such a huge quantity. It must be a mistake. Take it back. Wrongly placed order.”

He calmly replied, “But he already paid for it.”

Granny froze. Then narrowed her eyes.

“Let me check with my son,” she said, walking off, suspicious and fuming.

Granny called Papa at the shop—on the landline, of course.
Papa confirmed.
Granny didn’t react in the moment.
She waited.
(Papa is so dead.)

Helplessly, and with a deep disappointment, she took the massive biscuit box from the delivery man.

We kids were thrilled. Overjoyed.
But we didn’t dare show it.

That evening, when Papa returned from the shop, Granny was already waiting.
Sitting on the sofa. Silent. Still. (Summons.)

She gave him the look.

Papa, innocent as ever, asked, “Ma… are you upset with me?”

Granny said, slowly and sharply,
“Only a wholesale grocer would order such a massive quantity of one type of biscuit. Why did you do that?”

Papa smiled, calm as ever.
“They’re all for Lolo. She can eat as many as she likes.”

The room froze.
I jumped in joy.

Oh Papa, I love you so much!

My younger siblings suddenly started talking sweet to me.
(Ah… so this is what it feels like to be the eldest).

Granny gave Papa another look. This one had a faint glimpse of hidden volcano.

But done was done.

Granny knew there was no point taking it further—not now.

She would wait.

She always does.

Somehow, she always finds her moment.

I don’t know how. But she does.

On the other hand, I was certain I’d finish the entire 5 kg in one day. No sharing. I was that fond of those biscuits.

But… after ten biscuits, I was done.
Forever.

That moment was a revelation.

I looked at Papa, defeated.
“Sorry, I can’t eat more biscuits.”

Papa smiled gently.
“No problem.”

Granny pounced, “You’ve wasted so much money on her—and look! She’s wasted it all.”

Papa, still kind, said, “It’s just biscuits. Distribute them among the children. They’ll enjoy it.”

Granny gave a face. And took the entire box of biscuits… vanished into Granny’s version of Ali Baba’s cave.

 We all knew what was coming.

The Later, a major portion was discreetly gifted to Sonu, my aunt, and my grandfather.

And then—many days later—when the biscuits were about to expire (or maybe had already expired), Granny finally passed them on to my ever-hungry siblings: Gauri, Tipu, Manu, and Suku.

They finished the lot in no time.

Granny nagged Papa for many days.
About money. About waste. About indulgence.

But Papa knew exactly what he was doing.

Granny thinks Papa is a fool.
Because he trusts too easily.
Loves too freely.
And has a heart too big.
(All the things she considers bad qualities.)