“Now, Annalise, I know what you are thinking.”
“Go ahead, tell me, because I don’t think I’m even sure what I’m thinking.” I leaned back on my chair and crossed my legs and arms simultaneously.
“Well, dear, there’s a reason that Jasper was brought into our lives, so why not visit with him for a little while longer this evening?”
“You’re not playing matchmaker, here, are you?”
“Nonsense.”
I tilted my head and squinted.
“Well, in a way.”
“Auntie!”
“Annalise, you haven’t dated since that Dylan character, so I think you are out of practice. You were a bit reserved with that delightful Breccan in San Francisco—”
“That wasn’t a date, Auntie Lil!” What on earth was she getting at?
“I realize that, dear, but you need to keep in practice.”
What! Were these words coming from my self-sufficient aunt? I could see my mother worrying that I would never produce grandchildren ...
Then I remembered the story of the love of Auntie’s life.
Oh.
She just wanted me to have what she never had. We might be in the 21st century, but she understood that even though her life journey didn’t include a husband, she wanted to do everything she could to help me find one. How caring and sweet!
“I get it, Auntie Lil.”
She bustled about, gathering her tote bag.
“Well, all you’ll be getting is tired from sitting on that chair if we don’t hustle out and take advantage of this beautiful day!” she said. “Let’s get a move on.”
We made our way out of the hotel and walked the few blocks to the nearest stop for the “Duck and Hippo” tour bus. The brightly painted tour line was a hop-on, hop-off loop around the city, and passengers received a set of headphones with a paid fare. Plugging the headphones into the jack next to our seat allowed us to find an English-speaking recording among the nine languages. As the bus reached designated stops, the recorded guide clued us in to what we were seeing.
The tops of the double-decker buses were open, which allowed a sunny view but could potentially be scorching on a high-digit day. Luckily this day was breezy and just sunny enough to make the ride very enjoyable.
We learned so much about the city history and architecture. We chose our stops for the day and decided to return to some of them the next day since we had purchased two-day tickets. We made sure to hop off at Little India as our first stop and enjoyed our stroll through the hurly-burly streets.
“This must be what it’s like on some of the streets in the cities of India,” I said.
“I suspect so,” Auntie said. “Let’s find the music shop that our taxi driver told us about.”
We walked down busy streets toward the address, stopping along the way to marvel at the variety of shops and how the walkways, covered with overhangs to shield from the intense sun, were packed with what seemed to be not only tourists but also natives. Vivid colors and tantalizing smells mixed as we passed stores selling brightly colored materials for making saris and markets featuring glistening fruits and baskets spilling over with spices. Practically every jewelry shop displayed stacks of sparkling bracelets in the windows.
“When a woman becomes a bride, she wears stacks of bangles to indicate that she is married,” said Auntie Lil. “The different colors and metals have different significance. I bet you feel a kinship to that tradition.”
She lifted my arm, on which I wore a collection of gold bracelets—some antique family heirlooms and some gifts from her, Rory, and my parents, who know my love of bracelets.
“Well, you’ll never lose me in a crowd.” I jangled my arm and smiled.
After a few twists and turns and an impromptu stop to share an enticing vegetable Samosa from a street vendor, we found our destination and stepped through a slim door to the Lucky Charm music store. The window to the side displayed only one stringed instrument, so we were not prepared for the plethora of instruments that filled the tiny, incense-scented shop.
“Yes, Missus?” queried a rotund man with bright white hair and mustache.
“Good afternoon. Our taxi driver sent us here. A Mr. Murukan?” Auntie Lil was quietly polite. She knew that as two women traveling alone in another culture, we might not always be as welcome as in our own environment back home.
The man’s face split into a grin.
“Ah! Yes! Murukan! He is my cousin. Come ... come.” He gestured us toward the back of the store where we found a small, well-worn settee.
“My name is Prasad, and this is my daughter Madhur.” He indicated a young woman in her early twenties, dressed in the typical Indian garb. Her shalwar (leggings) were violet toned and kameez (tunic) was in a mustard print, trendy colors that were showing up on the runways, according to the fashion magazines back home.
“May I offer you a cup of tea or a glass of cola?” asked Madhur.
We knew that to refuse would be impolite, so we accepted the offer of tea.
“What brings you to our humble shop?” asked Prasad.
“With all respect, your cousin said that you might take a moment to show us one or two of your beautiful handmade instruments.”
Auntie Lil was not only one of the most educated women I knew, but also the best at assimilating into another culture! I knew some people from back home who would have been very ham-handed and demanding. Not my cultured aunt.
“Of course, of course!” Prasad responded. He sat comfortably on the floor and gestured to Madhur, and she brought him an instrument made from wood in warm honey tones.
“There are many variations of instruments in my homeland, but we specialize in those that are plucked, stringed instruments,” he waved around the shop. “What would you say this is in my hands, young miss?”
“A sitar?” I hoped I was right.
“Correct! And probably the most recognizable in the Western world.”
He began to play a lovely melody on it. Madhur returned with another instrument that looked almost like it, only larger and made from darker wood. She sat next to him compactly and, flipping her long black braid over one shoulder, leaned and began to harmonize with him.
“That, ladies, is the surbahar, which is essentially a bass sitar.”
They played together for several mesmerizing moments, and when they finished, Auntie Lil and I applauded. Madhur and Prasad bowed their heads slightly.
“Thank you. Now let me tell you the history of these beautiful instruments.”
He told their histories, turning them from side to side as he spoke. The story was fascinating.
“Would you like to try one, young miss?”
Would I!
“If that would be okay with you?” I could be cultured, too.
“Come, come.” They gestured for me to sit on the floor, cross-legged as they were, and they set the sitar in my lap. Prasad showed me how to hold my hands, and I tentatively struck a note. Buoyed by my success, I struck a few more. I looked up at Auntie Lil with a grin.
“Get a picture of this, Auntie Lil! No one will believe it!”
“I’m ahead of you, dear.”
She had my phone out and took a few snaps.
“Your turn, now, Missus,” indicated Madhur with a smile.
Auntie Lil moved to the floor and took possession of the surbahar. With a moment’s lesson, she was plucking chords as well.
“Would you like a photo of both of you?” Prasad asked, grinning. He motioned to Madhur, and she took pictures of us with my phone.
We handed the beautifully designed and carved instruments back to Prasad and Madhur and returned to the settee.
“What else would you like to know?” he asked.
“Everything!” I said. “But wait, let me get my journal out, I want to take notes.”
We passed a bit more time learning about his business, including the fact that he came from generations of instrument makers.
“Who will take over this shop from you?” I asked. “Madhur?”
Oops! I hoped I hadn’t asked an improper question. There was probably some rule against women doing jobs meant for men here. My face must have shown my worry.
“No. My precious daughter is only helping me today because her brother has the day off. He is my apprentice. Madhur is premed at the university. Her talented hands will be used when she is a surgeon.”
So much for preconceived notions, I smiled inwardly.
“My other siblings are younger, and some of them will also learn the craft,” said Madhur.
“Well, this has been a wonderful learning experience, and you have been kind, but we shouldn’t be taking so much of your time,” Auntie Lil said and rose from her seat. I joined her.
“It has been our pleasure.”
I waited for our host to attempt to make some sort of sale, because many of my friends had warned me that we would be walking into a hard sell whenever we stopped in a shop on our travels. So far, he’d made no effort to do this. And then, there it was.
“If you ladies are in the market for one of my instruments, I would be able to package it in such a way that I could ship it safely to your home,” he began.
But then I was surprised.
“However, the decision to purchase one of these instruments is not one to be made lightly on the basis of a few moments over tea. Take my card, and remember the Lucky Charm if you are ever in the market for a purchase. We can discuss your exact needs, and you can purchase the instrument that is best for you.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Prasad. It would be an honor to own one of these fine instruments.” Auntie Lil smiled and tucked his card in her bag.
We were ushered to the exit with many smiles and well wishes, and I waited until we were halfway up the street before I quizzed her.
“How did we get out of that store without a harder push to make a purchase?”
“Annalise, he is a true craftsman. We were lucky to have been asked to visit and treated as guests. I suspect that he makes his sales from wealthy clients the world over and doesn’t need to push his wares on cheap tourists. He knows that when he gives out his business card, it will usually get into the right hands and he’ll make a sale worth more than any penny-ante sale today. He wants his art to go to someone who will use it appropriately, not hang it in an overdecorated family room somewhere.”
“Is that what he thought we’d do with it?”
“No, but he knew we weren’t musicians,” Auntie laughed. “Or at least that you weren’t. Did you hear your, um, music?”
“Hey!”
Auntie Lil nudged my hip with hers, and we both giggled as we returned to the bus stop. After we got on board, we made plans to hop off at the next stop: the Kampong Glam.