the orthopaedic shoes they’d gotten free due to Daddi’s insurance. She dressed closer to the other kids grandmas vs their mothers.
Happy’s head was forced into a bow again, this time in his cramped living room. He sat in the sole empty chair in his outdoor puts. He still wore his wife beater to not get any stray hairs on his outdoor shirt. Mummi inserted a comb where his scalp met the back of his neck and combed forcefully forward. The comb teeth dug into the white of his head underneath. They bump off the cyst that had formed a the previous year from excess sweat under his ramaal.
That’s what Dr Gupta had diagnosed it as.
His eyes winced as they pointed down towards the parquee floor. The longest, thinnest strands of his hair kissed the ground as his head swayed from the forceful brushing. The fuzz on his kneecaps brushed agains the fuzz on his sideburns.
Out of the corner of his eye, Daddi was lying on the mattress in the living room, reading a free Punjabi newspaper. He liked to get all 4 free papers in circulation and read all of them. He liked to compare everyone’s slant on the current events to see how they differed. His ample reading made him the centre of discussion at the mall amongst his alcoholic friends.
“Did you tell your goonda friends that you don’t want to see them anymore,” Mummi said.
Mummi put the comb down and then separated the hair into 3 ropes and started adeptly braiding it, just like she’d done every day for the last few years.
“No, I’m keeping them,” Happy said.
Mummi’s feet were in her slippers with the electrical tape holding one of them together. Her toes were dusty and could’ve used some lotion.
“You donkey. There’s a lot of bad people out there,” Mummi said.
“You’re not any better,” Happy said.
Daddi started laughing uncontrollably at the slight. This incensed Mummi more than the comments. The braid being done, she yanked it forward, pulling Happy toward her until the top of his head bounced off her belly fat.
“Ouch,” Happy said.
She tied it into a bun that pulled at the edges of his unbarbered hairline
“I’m sorry Mummi, I love you,” Happy said.
Then she tiled him up and tied a fresh patka overtop like he’d requested that morning. It was his grandfather’s patka from the army.
“I don’t think you do. Put your shirt on,” Mummi said.