Aunt Tulip

There is a certain town where everyone is named after vegetables. My great aunt Tulip was born and brought up there. She was named after the famous 15 pound brinjal that grew in her father's field one summer. It was named Tulip. And she was dear enough to her father's heart to be named so too.

Aunt Tulip has seen a lot in her day. She has dined with the manatees when she went snorkeling in a certain river in the Amazon. They are a queer lot, she said. Impeccable in their manners, they offered her some grass roots and she graced them with her presence at the dining table. From what she told me, the manatee King was a charming and affable host. He wore horn-rimmed glasses and sported a Tom Selleck moustache and was very jocular after the first round of drinks.

'Like my grandpa!' I interjected.

'You'd think so, but no.' She explained succinctly.

Aunt Tulip was also an avid collector of antique furniture. Unfortunately, she wasn't especially trained in the maintenance of such relic, and they languished despondently, falling apart collectively in various parts of her bungalow. In fact, they had a mind of their own. Sometimes, they'd wait for me to seat myself snugly in in front of the fireplace before the chair collapsed. Then they'd chuckle. And Aunt Tulip would chuckle with them. She was very affectionate toward them. Having no children of her own, she was surrogate parent and master to them all. They reciprocated by being unanimous in their respect for her. Then she picked up the broken armchair by the backrest and hurled it into the fire. Aunt Tulip was uncharacteristically strong.

There was this particular garden gnome that worried her though. His name was Walden. He would gather up the other garden gnomes and form a kind of union. They ate all the beautiful onions in her garden by day and serenade by moonlight. He was literate and vied to unite all the garden gnomes together in their struggle against humanity. He recited Milton and preached fervently to the masses. He took offence one summer, when Aunt Tulip aptly pointed out that gnomes couldn't be oppressed as all they did was feast on others' vegetables and sleep and be a general nuisance all year round, and they didn't have any rights as by law, they were just pests. Walden refused to eat our onions for three full weeks. It was a way of protesting he had learned. He would fast till death. But the other gnomes, being by nature, stupid, didn't grab the concept, and continued to make merry and be cheerful in Aunt Tulip's garden till Walden gave in and decided to honour us with his soulful music once again. I had a nagging feeling that he rather fancied Aunt Tulip.

I'll be going to Aunt Tulip's this summer. I shall hear her narrate fantastic stories and gape and stare in awe. And I shall like it. As sure as my name is Herbert Broccoli.