H for Hen

I come from a family where curd rice (“thayir sadham”) with mango pickle (vadu manga) is considered staple diet. No amount of convincing that even a badly cooked chicken tikka tastes better than a well made brinjal curry could discourage their love for vegetarianism. Afternoons are normally spent talking about the engineering line that my three year old should pick up or about the latest entrants amongst my relatives into the marriage market and their possible pairing, the right fixed (with an emphasize on the “ed” in typical south Indian fashion) deposit schemes and on Sumathi’s dilemma. The last one is a character from a popular sun TV soap.
It was one of those afternoons where my son was going through his drill of weekly coaching of slogas that he can recite, songs that he can sing and on his ability to call out the English alphabets, a legacy left by our forefather’s the Britishers. He was confidently calling out Apple, Ball, Cat etc every time the alphabet card with a picture was pulled out…it was a treat for the entire family. Even as the recital performance was one, my grandfather in his characteristic 1960’s tone and English speaking style was like…see I told you he is a brilliant boy and will make the family proud…” and even before he could complete the sentence the “H” card with a picture of a hen was pulled out and Sashank confidently blurts out “Chicken”. There was a stunned silence, a grave sin has been committed , blasphemy indeed…and the entire family looks at me and in unison go like…see what you have done, Sashank said “chicken”!
It’s been a week since and I am still trying to get him to say…”H for Hen”