Tamarind Treats - By Esha Srivastava

Written By: Esha Srivastava

Category: Short Story

Competition: Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Esha Srivastava, writing under the name Tamarind Treats, brings us a captivating short story titled "Tamarind Treats" for the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This narrative delves into the intricacies of family dynamics and childhood perceptions, offering readers a glimpse into the world of young Lisa as she navigates through an unexpected day. Esha's work is a part of a global showcase of talent, celebrating creative expressions that resonate deeply with universal themes of identity and belonging.

About the Work

"Tamarind Treats" is a richly woven tale that captures the perspective of a young girl, Lisa, as she contemplates her surroundings and family life. The story paints vivid images of Lisa's thoughts and emotions, blending nostalgia with a sense of discovery. Through Esha's narrative style, readers are drawn into the sensory details of Lisa's world, where the simplicity of a turquoise frock and tamarind treats become symbols of innocence and familial connections.

Tamarind Treats

Original Submission by Esha Srivastava

Lisa hadn’t seen her father so flurried. He was pacing up and down with a sense of urgency she had only witnessed once before in her lifetime. There certainly was somewhere he had to be. They had to be, she realised, as he asked Maya to help her get dressed for the evening. As Maya forced Lisa’s once favourite turquoise frock down her big head, a thought occurred to her. Was Appa taking her to that fancy candy store that had recently opened close to Maria’s place? She had noticed it almost two weeks ago on her school route when they were held up outside Maria’s mansion. Maria was always late and at this particular occasion as they waited for her outside in the heat, her mother had decided to pick a fight with the driver, commanding him to not honk and disturb their old terrier and to extend the time allocated to waiting for Maria. Lisa had been taught to always be on time and obviously did not approve of Maria and her mother’s ways. But try as she might, she could not hate her. Lisa had always wanted to be like Maria, with her peachy complexion and delicate features, she looked like a princess from one of the Disney movies. They had never spoken but her opulence and her quietude however impertinent, added to her charm in Lisa’s head. As Maya proceeded to comb her hair, Lisa realised that they could not have been going to the candy store for her Dad was a simpleton and an extremely thrifty soul, and would never make her wear her precious turquoise frock for the short trip. He really lived by the philosophy of - if can avoid, do. This entailed a wide array of things from going out to get an innocent cola Popsicle with friends to a perceivably fancy piece of clothing (fancy: expensive).

Even though the frock was now worn out, it was Lisa’s nicest and favourite piece of clothing. Rarely anything was just discarded because it is old at the Iyers; functionality was paramount. His austerity often reminded Lisa of a sage in one of the stories they were learning in English class. As Maya attempted to untangle her thick, wavy hair, Lisa noticed that the pink embroidered flowers on her dress had gone incredibly dull and the lace at the end of the frills had come loose, slightly frayed towards the corners. She had always liked that frock of hers; her Mum had rummaged the entire store to find something to her liking much to the attendant’s inconvenience. That was a good day, she thought to herself. They had spent the entire day together and Lisa was allowed to have her favourite sweet and sour tamarind treat, which was a rare occurrence. She was told too much tamarind makes one stupid. Lisa had come to realise that stupid was not an acceptable thing to be, especially in the Iyer household. The Iyers took great pride in their meritorious background and achievements; they were always inclined to establish some sort of intellectual superiority over other unassuming common folk they would encounter, which usually was not a difficult thing to achieve by any means. This however, was very subtly done lest anyone feel offended. That would be unacceptable of course.

“Maya, how does eating tamarind make us stupid?” Lisa enquired. To which Maya replied, “Baby, you and your big head always keep coming up with these bizarre questions that I can never come to understand, let alone answer tactfully! I am not educated like you folks, you see.” she retorted. A feeling of tepid guilt engulfed Lisa as she loved Maya and did not in any way wished to make her feel less significant.

Aunt Martha always reminded Lisa’s Mum of her social awkwardness and daft sense of timing and how in so many ways Lisa was a misfit like her father. Lisa always felt offended by that but secretly agreed. And boy did she have a big head, everyone concurred. “She will be a Physicist, you’ll see. The girl is too quaint and acute for her age”, her mother had declared. “Father and George will have to take back what they had said to me!”, she used to say. Apparently, Lisa’s scholar, professor of a grandfather just could not perceive the idea of having her daughter study tedious subjects like Physics and Mathematics, let alone aspire to become a scientist. So, while he was terribly encouraging towards Lisa’s Uncle, George, who was now a Mathematician at a renowned American University, he quashed Lisa mother’s dreams of studying beyond a token-worthy undergraduate degree (B.Sc.). “If your husband dies or fails to provide for you, at least you can find some work”, not known for twisting his words, he had said. Lisa’s mother couldn’t ever reconcile with this prejudice shown by her own well-read and well-travelled father whom she had always aspired to grow up to be like. What followed was a strong urge to prove one’s worth and in turn overcompensation to embarrassing levels. “Kyoyikumama, that’s what you are!”, Lisa’s Dad who had spent a year in Japan during his student years accused her Mum. She always thought that this was said more with the intent of flaunting perhaps one of the only words her father knew in Japanese and less with spite for her Mum’s mothering skills. Either way, Lisa had always felt very warm and connected with her mother and embraced her love irrespective of the form in which it presented itself. Maya believed that it had rendered Lisa a kinder human being and definitely wise beyond her years. At such a young age, Lisa’s young and impressionable mind did feel superior for understanding and accepting her Mum’s idiosyncrasies while most others thought of her as a manic depressive. Not to mention, it made her feel incredibly special and grown-up.

Lisa was different though, she was always told - an air of wishfulness around the recurrent declaration. Lisa did feel different however, she always had. She had acquired her father’s model of workability and an absolute disinterest in anything to do with form, structure and life-long promise, along with her mother’s fastidiousness. This made her incredibly adept at critical thinking and made her see the word differently. The allure of beauty and the intrigue she felt for understanding deeply was also the basis of her proclivity towards Maria. As if no-one else would fight her corner, like her beauty and wealth had isolated her somehow. Lisa felt responsible. However, looking like a treat to the beholders’ eyes was another matter and was most certainly not her forte. The fact that there was absolutely no emphasis on that in the Iyer home, made it all the more justifiable. “She has only turned seven after all. Kids are in such a hurry these days to grow up! Take it off right this second”, her Dad had exclaimed at the sight of her wearing her Aunt’s magenta lipstick that she was so enamoured by. She was not enamoured anymore and since then had had no doubts about what was more worthy of focussing on in life. And for satiating one’s need for beauty and pretty little trinkets which probably cost a fortune, there was always Maria.

A tug on one of her thick pigtails brought her back to reality as the sharp pain reminded her of the time a thick strand of her unruly hair had got caught up in the one of the hooks of her Mum’s blouse. Boy did that hurt, though her Mum’s gentle

caresses that followed made up for the fiasco which actually took a tiny chunk of her hair with it. Thinking about that story always made her feel sad. As did looking at the pink flowers on her frock which her Mum kept fixing by hand as all her shenanigans

in the playground didn’t work out so well for the poor periwinkles. She could make out the ones worked on by her Aunt, with the more vibrant pink and a slightly different pattern on the flowers. Maya tugged on her pigtail again, holding it for a few seconds longer this time. “I have a lot of other things to do around the house baby. Use the washroom once and you are good to go”, said Maya. Lisa didn’t need the washroom but her Mum’s lesson of, ‘Always wee-wee before lea-vie’ had stuck with her.

While sat on the pot, she was reminded of the evening when her parents were getting ready for one those annual parties her Dad’s Boss used to throw around Christmas. She was sat on the Potty that night as well. “Why do I always have to accompany you to these things? I mean clearly it’s not the mandate. Yadav shows up without his wife almost every year, doesn’t he?”, she could almost hear her mother shouting from the drawing room. “Yes he does, honey!”, this time her Dad from the hallway. They always fought before leaving the house, especially for formal, late dinners like these. “Yadav’s wife isn’t as pretty as you, which is why I think he’d rather leave her at home.”, his voice almost beaming with how pleased he was with his retort. She had wanted to kiss them and say good night again, but before she could have washed her hands and stepped out of the loo, she heard them giggle at the door which told her to leave them be. They were also quick to make up, always! “Lisa baby, it’s time to go”, Maya’s words reigned her back, again.

One of the doors to the back-seat was already left ajar, a reminder of the sense of urgency around today that she felt manhandled by. As she sat in and closed the door behind her, she saw Maya’s silhouette in the living room, dusting the shelves like she does every Saturday. The driver, who her Dad seemed to have hired for the day, also a peon at his office, fired the ignition, and a quick turn or two later, they were on the main road, towards this mysterious, unknown destination. The car jaunted along the newly-constructed road, with Lisa sitting beside the window, appreciating the scenery as always. She felt strangely connected to the people whose lives carried on as per usual on the sides of the roads. She remembered how she always made funny faces at anyone who’d look her way, saying ‘Hi’ to passers-by, as her mother joined her in this puerility. She didn’t do that anymore.

‘It’s not the 2nd of July, is it?’, she thought to herself, as she tried to recollect the date she’d put at the top-left corner of her notebooks in class yesterday, quickly recollecting that it’s not, not even close. Yet, a part of her wished that at the main crossroads that they were heading towards, they’d take a sharp left, towards the cemetery, as they did on important occasions, one of them being her Birthday of course. The crossing came and left and Lisa could see the tombstones getting smaller in the distance, appearing like a chess-game in progress. Suddenly, she felt a little ill at ease. ‘Maybe we’re going to Aunt Martha’s, even though Dad doesn’t approve of her much’, another thought popped-up in her big head. But, she couldn’t recognize the roads and the vicinity at all.

A mile or two later, the car took a right turn, halting in front of a quaint looking Church, not the one they usually visit every other month. Her Dad eagerly got out and started greeting people in a curious manner, a sort of courtesy she hadn’t seen him extend to everyone. A small group of people stood with flowers at the entrance, extremely pleased to see him. ‘My Dad is an important man’, she thought, proudly. She was introduced as ‘my genius daughter’ to everyone, who met her with a kind yet distant propriety mixed with quiet discernment. She felt watched and observed, and immediately felt uncomfortable. A tug on the cheek and an endearing glance or two later, her Dad took her hand and made his way to the Church, as the others followed him.

Before she could find her bearings, they were at the entrance and towards the end of the aisle, she spotted a woman dressed in a festive-looking saree, a veil covering her face. ‘Is that Anna from Dad’s office’, she wondered, trying to rummage her memory

when she was first acquainted with her at the New Year’s soirée. As she was being escorted by her Dad down the narrow path, flanked by smiling faces, faces of people she didn’t seem to know, she felt her heart sink slowly. With her heartbeat reverberating in her ears, her mind flipped through a dozen images - Aunt Martha giggling with her Mum, Maria in her perfect Birthday ensemble, Maya watering the seasonal roses, her Mum and Dad singing along to the lyrics of ‘Aadi vaa katte.’

The sense of urgency had been replaced by a feeling of morbid sadness, an emotion she had only felt once before. As she took her place at the altar, she looked down at her turquoise dress. Her mind, which was racing in every possible direction, calmed

down at once, her gaze now fixed on the wilting periwinkles - their fading colours more prominent than ever.

About the Competition

The Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a vibrant platform for writers across the globe to share their unique voices. Featuring categories like poetry, short stories, essays, and creative writing, the competition aims to celebrate the diversity and richness of literary art. Participants are encouraged to explore and express their creativity, contributing to a tapestry of thought-provoking and memorable works.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Esha Srivastava for sharing "Tamarind Treats" with us in the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her insightful depiction of family and childhood through Lisa's eyes offers a touching narrative that resonates with readers. We appreciate Esha's contribution and look forward to more of her engaging storytelling.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.