Married Women

Manorama received a surprise as soon as she entered her room. Kashi had draped the end of Manorama’s saree over her head like a veil, and was standing in front of the dressing table. She was also wearing Manorama’s lipstick and her face was caked in powder. The lipstick and the powder looked odd over her dark complexion. Oblivious, Kashi was busy admiring herself in the mirror. Manorama had seen enough.

“You maid!” Manorama yelled. “What are you doing?”

Kashi hurriedly slid the saree off her head and stepped back from the dressing table. Manorama’s anger had momentarily scared Kashi into silence, but now, realizing how ridiculous she must appear mimicking Manorama, she attempted to laugh it off.

“Dear sister, please forgive me,”  she pleaded. “I was cleaning your room and when I got to the mirror, I just felt like trying some of your things. You can cut my salary next month.”

This suggestion, though, only fuelled Manorama’s anger further. “Cut money from your salary, that’s right! From her salary of fifteen rupees, madam wants to splurge six and half on lipstick! Goddamn you! You break plates every other day, and I say nothing; you regularly steal ghee, dough, and sugar, and I overlook that as well. The rest of the staff complains that you are lazy, and idle, and disobedient. The committee members are after me to get rid of you because you go to them with unreasonable demands. Yet I defend you, arguing that you’d be on the streets if not for this job. And this is how you repay me for all that I have done for you? You witch!”

Manorama grabbed the chair in front of her with indignation, as if blaming herself for tolerating this insolence for so long. She sat down in a huff and began to rub her head with her cold hands, while Kashi stood there quietly.

“Look at you, almost forty, but still dolling yourself up,” Manorama muttered to herself. “What a slut!”

Manorama shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Her head was still spinning from a hectic day at the school. Her mind was blank and her body tired. She’d just returned from a long walk, beginning at the public library and continuing along the military lines. She had hoped a walk would reinvigorate her, but as she got closer to her home on the school compound, she was overcome with weariness. About half a mile before she reached her quarters the sun set, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. The breeze, the swaying trees, the fluff of clouds scattered across the sky—all of them cast an intoxicating spell over her. The faded moonlight sprawled on the road was intensifying. Securing the end of her saree firmly at the back, Manorama had sauntered for many miles, but as she drew closer to the water tank next to her house, all that zeal disappeared. When she finally got to the school gate, she did not feel like entering it. But somehow she gathered herself and pushed the iron gate open with her hand. She was the headmistress of a girls’ high school, after all—how could she be seen loitering about? With a heavy heart she dragged herself on up the stairs leading to her living quarters only to have this scene with Kashi unfold.

When Manorama opened her eyes, Kashi was still standing there. This agitated Manorama further. She had expected Kashi to disappear sometime between the shutting and opening of her eyes.

“Why are you still here? Leave!” Manorama shouted, angry.

This had no effect on Kashi’s expression; instead, she moved closer to Manorama and sat on the floor next to her chair.

Kashi resumed her pleading: “Madam, I am begging you, please forgive me,” and she fell down at Manorama’s feet. Manorama pulled her legs away from Kashi’s hands.

“I have asked you to leave. Stop bothering me,” Manorama said, getting up to go to the window. Kashi also got up from the floor.

“Can I make you some tea?” Kashi asked. “You must be tired after your long walk.”

“Just leave. I don’t want any tea.”

Kashi persisted, “Then should I get started on your dinner?”

Manorama’s face was turned away from Kashi, and she did not reply.

“Madam, I am begging you, forgive me.”

Manorama was still quiet and again she brought her hand to her head as if to knead it.

“I can massage your head if it hurts,” Kashi offered after wiping her hands on her saree.

At this, Manorama lost her cool and shouted, “I have told you to go, why are you so bent on winding me up?”

A wounded Kashi withdrew. She looked at Manorama, stunned at her reaction, and then exited out onto the veranda. She turned back for a second to say something, but then checked herself and left in silence. Manorama remained standing at the window until she heard Kashi’s footsteps descending the wooden staircase. When she was convinced that Kashi was gone, she went and lay on the bed with her hands pressed to her forehead.

Manorama felt partly responsible for this situation. Any other headmistress would have fired this woman long ago. Kashi had been taking undue advantage of her generosity. She had also tolerated the shenanigans of Kashi’s unruly children. They were always up to no good, making noise around her living quarters or else trashing the school compound. One time she had got them some sweets, and ever since then they pestered her for more by pulling at her saree. She was eager to teach them about personal hygiene and had even gone so far as to sew panties for Kunti, Kashi’s eldest daughter, but none of that had made any difference. They continued to discount cleanliness and keep at their pranks. The last time the school was due for annual inspection, they had drawn all over the compound with black charcoal. She’d had to get the entire compound washed all over again. They would also misbehave with her guests, sticking their tongues out at them. No one else in her place would have endured so much and still allowed them to stay.

Manorama lay on her bed for some time, staring at the ceiling. Then she got up and walked out onto the veranda. As she stepped on the wooden porch, the sound of her own footstep against the floor startled her, but she steadied herself on one of the pillars of the parapet. She looked outside and saw the moonlight spread across the yard. The mortar between the bricks formed a labyrinth; the desks, stools, and blackboards in the school compound appeared to her as if possessed with evil spirits that were peeping out from hiding places. The dense deodar forest rustled in the cool breeze of a moonlit night. There was profound silence all around.

Kashi’s living quarters were never quiet around this time. Usually her kids would clatter and clamor until around nine, even ten at night. But tonight it was so quiet that it almost seemed that her house was deserted. The windows were stuffed with cardboard, so Manorama could not see if the lights were on or off inside. Manorama held onto the pillar tightly as if it were her only companion, offering her the comfort of its full attention. A brisk breeze passed through the deodar forest making a rustling sound.

“Kunti!” Manorama called out.

The wind carried her voice far, maybe even too far. And yet again she could hear the rustle of the forest whispering in her ears. She saw the door to Kashi’s house open and Kunti stepped out sheepishly. Manorama gestured for her to come upstairs. Kunti glanced back at her house, and as if shrinking into herself, quietly obliged.

Manorama asked her in a mellow tone, “What is your mother up to?”

“Nothing really,” Kunti replied.

“She must be doing something…” Manorama persisted.

“She’s crying.”

“Why is she crying?”

Kunti remained quiet. Manorama also became quiet and stared at the floor.

“Have you all had dinner yet?” Manorama inquired, after a pause.

“Our Father is supposed to come home today by the evening bus. Mother said we will eat together when he arrives,” Kunti replied.

It was all clear to Manorama now. Ajudhya, Kashi’s husband, was visiting them after three years away; Kashi had mentioned this earlier. Now she could see why Kashi had wanted to adorn herself with lipstick and face powder. The kids were also quiet for this reason: their father was coming to visit them today, a father they hadn’t seen in three years and might not even recognize. Or maybe they did remember what a father was: a hard, severe voice, a hand swung into a tight slap.

“Go and ask your mother to come upstairs,” Manorama ordered Kunti, patting her shoulder. “Tell her that I wish to see her.”

Shrinking into herself, Kunti went down the stairs and left. After some time, Kashi came upstairs. Her eyes were red and she kept wiping her nose with the loose end of her saree.

Manorama looked at her and complained, “I merely told you off and that made you cry?”

“Madam, this is just how master-servant relations are,” Kashi replied.

“You will cry even if I scold you for a mistake you have made?” Manorama reasoned, as if mending a broken thing. “Now go in and wash up in the bathroom.” Kashi stood there wiping her eyes and nose.

Manorama was fidgety and finally asked, “So, is Ajudhya arriving today?” Kashi replied by nodding her head. “Will he be staying for a few days or leave sooner?”

“His letter says he will leave once he finalizes the lease.”

Manorama knew that Ajudhya had inherited a piece of land that contained an apple orchard and every year he renegotiated the lease. Last year Kashi had struck the deal for 125 rupees, and a year before that she had settled it for 150 rupees. Last time, Ajudhya had written her a very rude letter. He believed that Kashi was keeping some of that money for herself instead of sending the entire amount to him. So, Kashi wrote back to him and told him to make his deal in person this time. She would not accept any accusations with regards to money. It had been five years since Ajudhya had abandoned her for another wife and settled down in Pathankot. He had even set up a grocery store there, but never bothered to send any money to support Kashi or his children.

“Is he coming all the way from Pathankot only to negotiate the lease?” Manorama asked, as if preoccupied with something else. “But half of what he makes will be spent on the journey alone!”

Kashi replied dismally, “I figured at least that way he would have to come here and meet his children.” Kashi’s voice quivered as she said this. “And at the very least he can see that no one is willing to pay more than 150 for leasing an apple orchard these days.”

“What a strange man!” Manorama now spoke with sympathy for Kashi. “Even if you do make some money off the lease, what is the big deal? After all, you are raising his kids. In fact, the arrangement should have been that he send you a monthly allowance, but instead he is raising these petty issues.”

 “Madam, you know well, who can win against men in this world?” Kashi replied, her voice still quivering.

“But then why don’t you tell him that…?” Manorama began to advise but checked herself. She remembered how a few days ago, when she had received Sushil’s letter, Kashi had prodded her with similar questions and she had not liked it. Kashi had asked a lot of questions then: Why did her husband make her work when he also made good money? Why didn’t she have any children after so many years of marriage? Did she keep all her income or send some of it to him? And many other such questions. Manorama recalled how she had laughed them off, but they were in fact important questions that touched some tender spot in her heart and would leave her disconsolate for a few days.

“Should I make you some dinner?” Kashi collected herself and asked.

Manorama had calmed down and replied softly, “No, I am not hungry right now.” Kashi felt relieved that Manorama was no longer upset. “When I feel like having my dinner, I will make it myself. Go home now and finish your own work. Ajudhya must be arriving soon; the last bus gets here by nine.”

After Kashi left, Manorama stood on her veranda, glued to the pillar for a long time. It was getting windier and she felt increasingly restless. Old memories flashed through her mind, of the time Sushil and she were newlyweds and would roam the hills together. At that time, everything in the world seemed smaller next to their newfound love. As his hand brushed hers, a tide of desire swept through her entire body, engulfed in wave after wave. The deodar forest ruffled within her, not without. Sushil burrowed deep into her body, melting into her. After he finished, whenever he began to move away, she would hold him even tighter. She would picture herself carrying a baby in her arms and the mere thought would enliven her spirits. She marvelled at the miracle of carrying a life, one that formed and moved inside of her.

She had often expressed her desires to Sushil: to have a baby, to experience that miracle taking shape within her. However, Sushil was against it. He wanted to wait a few years to bring a child into their lives. He feared it would ruin Manorama’s figure and put her job in jeopardy. He didn’t think it would be right for her to quit her job and be confined to the house, only looking after household chores. Besides, he had other responsibilities to look after, and duties toward his own family. He had to get his sister, Ummi, married within a year at most and support his two brothers who were still in college. Every penny counted. He planned to put off having babies for five to six years. Even though she wanted children more than anything else, she knew not to be stubborn about it. Anytime Sushil caressed her body now, Manorama felt the desperation of her unborn child writhing, longing to be in her arms. She could hear its cackle and feel its soft body in her hands. In these moments of longing, Sushil’s face often transformed into that of a baby. And she would hold him close to her body, wanting to pat his back and sing lullabies to him.

It had been ages since Sushil had last written to her. In her last letter she had implored him to write her because in the absence of his letters her solitude was unbearable. For the past few days, she had been contemplating writing him another letter, but her ego would not permit it. Was Sushil so busy that he couldn’t bring himself to write a few lines?

Outside there was a strong gust of wind, blowing the soft rustling sounds of the deodar forest deep into the valleys and then into the silent void of the sky. In the distance, along the valley, she saw two balls of light approaching. This was likely the last bus arriving from Pathankot. The bars of the gate shone in the bright moonlight. And the wind beat against it as if to break the locks of her iron gate by force. Manorama took a deep breath and went inside. She felt lonelier than she usually did at this time of day.

The next day, returning from her walk, Manorama froze. Kashi’s house was louder than usual. She could hear Ajudhya swearing loudly while beating Kashi, who wailed inconsolably. Manorama was furious. It was against the committee’s rules to allow a man on the school premises after dark; she’d had to procure special permission for Ajudhya to stay the night. But this man, he had decided to abuse his privilege, stooping to this kind of conduct. Manorama was less concerned with Kashi and more so with the fact that whatever was happening in the school compound could give a bad name to the school, and the headmistress as well…

Manorama hurried to her own living quarters. Her heels tipped-tapped as she climbed up the wooden staircase. She did not know what to do. She could either summon Kashi and insist she ask Ajudhya to leave immediately, or she could admonish Ajudhya herself, giving him until morning to leave. She sat down on the veranda deep in thought, then noticed Kunti sitting timidly in a corner, looking down at her house with dread. Manorama couldn’t understand why this girl was here in her quarters.

Manorama supressed her anger to ask, “What is the matter?”

“Ma asked me to make you dinner.” Kunti looked at Manorama with terror, as if expecting Manorama to grab her by the arm and beat her.

“So, you have come to feed me today?”

Kunti nodded coyly in response.

“What is going on in your quarters?” Manorama asked, as if holding Kunti responsible. Kunti stood in silence, her lips trembling, tears trickling down her face one by one.

“What’s the matter? Why is he beating your mother?” Manorama tried again.

Kunti wiped her face and, holding back tears, said, “He found the money she’d saved in the trunk and took it all, and when mother tried to stop him, he started beating her.”

Manorama was furious. “This man has lost his mind! I ought to throw him out of here, that’d bring him to his senses!”

Kunti continued sobbing, then revealed, “He claims that my mother has been taking a cut of the money from the lease on the side. He claims to have fixed the deal for two hundred rupees this time. He took away the sixty to seventy rupees she had managed to save so far.”

There was such a forlorn look on Kunti’s face that Manorama pulled her into an embrace despite her dirty clothes. “Why are you crying?” Manorama tried to reassure her, rubbing her back. “I will get your mother’s money back from him. Now come with me.”

Manorama took Kashi into the kitchen, washed her face with her own hands, and sat her down on a stool nearby. When Kunti served dinner, which she had cooked herself, Manorama ate it quietly. If Kashi had made it, Manorama would have yelled at her. Kunti’s rotis were odd-shaped, half-cooked, and half-burnt. The dal was just a bowl of lentils floating in water. However, Manorama ate her dinner mechanically, dunking her roti in the watery dal and then gulping it down, in the same monotonous manner in which she signed the documents lying on her table in her office and responded to the complaints of teachers. As Kunti placed another roti on her plate, she suddenly broke from her stupor.

“No, I don’t want any more.” Manorama held out her hand to gesture no more, as if the extra roti hadn’t landed on her plate already. She began to break it into smaller pieces without much interest.

The racket from Kashi’s house had finally died down. A moment later she heard the compound gate open and close; it must be Ajudhya stepping out, she imagined. Kunti was putting away the box of rotis when Manorama came inside and instructed her, “When you get back to your quarters, ask your mother to check that the main gate is closed properly before sleeping. Make sure it’s not left open all night.” Kunti nodded and resumed her work. “Also ask her to come see me.” Manorama sounded very curt. Kunti looked at her as if stumbling upon a rather difficult chapter in school that remained inscrutable despite all efforts. She nodded and went back to her work.

That night, Kashi stayed late with Manorama. Kashi wasn’t as upset with Ajudhya for taking away all her savings as she was the fact that he had come to visit his children empty handed after three long years. She began telling Manorama that she believed his new wife had cast some hypnotic spell on Ajudhya given to her by a holy man. That was why Ajudhya never disobeyed his new wife. The astrologer Kashi consulted had told her that this spell was to last seven years, at the end of which the children of his new wife would eat the leftovers of her children and wear their hand-me-downs.

Manorama was only half listening to Kashi’s chatter; her mind kept roving back to the fact that Sushil hadn’t written to her in so long… It was almost a month since she’d last written to him, but he had not replied. What had kept him from writing her? It had been a month since he’d written anything. Lost in her thoughts, a stray lock of hair fell across her face, stroking it gently, stirring a queer sensation in her body. For a moment she even forgot that Kashi was in the same room as her. With every flick of the hair, she imagined it was the soft touch of a baby. She remembered when Sushil would run his fingers through her hair and lavish her with kisses. Why was he taking so long to write back? She received several pieces of mail every day, but all were addressed to the Headmistress, none to Manorama Sachdev. This last time, when she’d left Sushil at the end of the school break, she had promised to send him some wool for a winter coat and also a shawl for Ummi. Was it possible that he was upset with her because she was unable to send them?

As Kashi got up to leave, Manorama was once again enveloped in feelings of loneliness. The murmur of the deodar forest, the bustling Raavi River sparkling in the moonlight, and her sleepless eyes strung along an invisible thread. As Kashi reached the far end of the veranda, Manorama called her back in and instructed her to make sure that the gate to the compound was locked properly and to send Kunti to her room for the night.

Manorama couldn’t sleep that night. She went to the window and stared at the wide stretch of the clear, horizonless sky. Even a soft gust of wind sent a shiver through the pine and deodar trees, sending all their limbs and branches into a dance. The wind, swept down from the branches and leaves, wrapped her in a tight embrace. She decided to rest her head on the window sill and sat on the cot by the window for a while. As her eyes began to droop, the window sill turned into Sushil’s chest. The wind called out to her, from beyond the forest, on the other side of Raavi River… Turning from the window, she came back to her bed and saw that the moonlight had formed a square of light in the room, lighting up Kunti’s face. She was surprised; Kunti had never before appeared so pretty to her. Her thin lips opened up like the young, red leaves of a mango tree… She drew closer to the bed to get a better look, leaning on her elbows, and then kissed her. Kunti fidgeted in her sleep, without waking up.

Manorama finally rested her head on her pillow and stared at the ceiling. Just as she was getting lulled to sleep, she was startled by the opening and closing of the compound gate, followed shortly after by murmurs coming from Kashi’s quarters. Ajudhya was babbling inchoately; he was drunk. Anger pulsed through her body, but she pulled her blanket over her head and tried her best to ignore the noise. The chatter continued to echo even in her sleep.

Ajudhya left after two days and Manorama heaved a sigh of relief. She’d been worried that she would lose her temper and get Ajudhya kicked out of the school premises with the help of the peon. He even had the look of a scoundrel: long yellow teeth, black ruddy lips, and eyes that had a horrifying, dreadful air about them. Manorama thought he deserved a life sentence for his looks alone. She felt herself calm down only once he had left, at which point she sat down to complete the office work she had been putting off all week. That same day she received Sushil’s letter by the evening post.

She didn’t open his letter in the office. Instructing clerk to finish the dictation for the rest of the letters, she retreated to her quarters. Perched on the bed, she opened the envelope carefully with a knife, softly so as not to hurt it. The letter had been penned down hurriedly on a sheet of office paper. That was disappointing, but she read each line with eager anticipation. Sushil had written about Ummi: her engagement was imminent; the groom had a decent job and everyone approved of the match. He had asked her to send the shawl for Ummi as soon as she could. Finally, he suggested that they try to save some money for Ummi’s wedding. In the end, he had asked Uma to look after her health; the letter concluded with loving hugs and countless kisses.

Manorama just sat there for a while, letter in hand. None of his loving hugs or countless kisses had touched her in any way. She felt as if she had bent down to drink from a spring, but her lips had only touched wet sand. She left the letter in a drawer and returned to her office.

That evening, after dinner, she sat down to reply to his letter. But her mind drew a blank as soon as she picked up the pen. She realized she had nothing to say. Eventually she wrote a line, then sat there scraping the paper with her nails for a long time. She tried harder to concentrate and finally came up with a few more lines. After writing a little more, she paused to read what she had written and saw that it wasn’t very different from the official letters she dictated to the clerk in the office every day. She had expressed regret for not sending the shawl and the coat fabric earlier, and said she would try her best to make arrangements for these to be sent soon. Her letter also concluded with loving hugs and countless kisses…

At night, awake in her bed, she thought of all the ways she could cut her expenses further  to save about forty to fifty rupees more each month. Maybe stop getting milk? Wash her clothes herself? Let Kashi go and cook her own meals? Keeping Kashi had proven to be the most expensive household expense. Not only did she demand things from time to time, but she also stole from the house. However, Manorama had once tried to manage everything on her own but soon realized that she could not handle her job alongside cooking and cleaning at home. Without a cook, her meals were either hurried and unplanned, or consisted only of milk and bread.

The very next day, she began to cut down on various expenses. She instructed Kashi to buy only as much milk as they needed for tea and to use less ghee when cooking. She also stopped buying fruits and biscuits. In the beginning, her zeal to maximize her savings carried her through, but her health started to deteriorate soon after. She felt dizzy while teaching her class, on at least two occasions. However, she remained adamant. Th next month, as soon as she received her salary, she set forty rupees aside for Ummi’s shawl, her face triumphant, determined to rub in Sushil’s face the effort it had taken to save money for the shawl and coat fabric. In general, she had become rather irritable and short-tempered with people.

One day, before leaving for school, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and was taken aback; her face looked very pale, washed out. At school, she struggled with a searing headache, and went home before it was even noon. As she entered through the veranda, she saw Kashi hurriedly shut the cupboard and return to the stove, having heard Manorama’s approaching footsteps. Manorama went straight to the cupboard and opened it.

The container of ghee was open and had finger marks inside. Manorama looked at Kashi. Kashi’s mouth was smeared in ghee, and she was hiding her greasy fingers in the folds of her saree, trying to wipe them clean. Manorama lost her temper. She went up to Kashi and pulled her by the hair.

“You thief!” she shouted. “Is this why I have been fasting, so that you can pig out on the ghee?” Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, you low-caste woman? Get out now and never show your face here ever again!” Manorama kicked Kashi in her back, so that she almost fell on her face. The pain from the kick was severe, and Kashi shut her eyes for a moment to absorb it. She fell down at Manorama’s feet without uttering a word.

“I am giving you twenty-four hours’ notice; I want your quarters vacated by this time tomorrow. I have had enough of you. The clerk will settle your account. If I see you step one foot inside the school premises ever again…!” Manorama was shaking with anger now; she pushed Kashi aside and walked away. But Kashi was not prepared to give up easily; she leapt and grabbed for Manorama’s feet once again.

Kashi begged and pleaded, “Madam, I’m on my knees, forgive me.” Manorama pushed her off, and Kashi hit a teakettle lying on the floor, instantly breaking it. The noise from the shattering teakettle momentarily stunned them both into silence. Manorama bit her lower lip in exasperation, and stomped off into her room. There, she put some balm on her forehead, lay down on her bed, and covered her face with a blanket.

That evening she received another letter from Sushil. The letter was similar to the previous one. Ummi had gotten engaged. Last Sunday they’d all gone for a picnic with Ummi’s fiancé. This time Ummi had managed to claim some space in his letter, to personally request that Manorama send her shawl, then went on to say how everyone missed her a lot, especially on the day of the picnic.

After reading the letter, Manorama put it aside and went on a long walk. She was very irritable, but couldn’t understand why, or because of whom—Kashi, Sushil, or herself? As she walked down the road, she felt it was stonier than usual, and too long. She felt tired and took breaks twice to sit down on the gravelly road. About a mile from her house her slipper broke, and she struggled to walk the remaining distance. She was tired of dragging herself down that road and wondered how long she would have to carry on this way?

As she approached the school gate, that morning’s episode came back to her. Kashi’s quarters were enveloped in a deadening silence once again. For a moment Manorama feared that Kashi had actually left and that she was left all alone in that big compound. Panicked, she called out Kunti’s name. Kunti stepped out of her house with a lantern in her hand.

“Where is your mother?” Manorama asked her.

Kunti pointed at her house and replied, “She is inside.”

“What is she doing?”

“Nothing, just sitting,” Kunti replied in a dismal tone.

Manorama entered Kashi’s quarters. Once inside she saw that it was crumbling and required a lot of work. The door frame looked fragile, almost coming apart. Manorama had seen Kashi’s house several times from the outside, while passing by, but she had never noticed its door before.

“This place needs lots of repairs,” Manorama remarked as she entered, as if scanning the interiors on an inspection. Kashi saw her and immediately got up and stood next to her. Manorama acknowledged her presence but did not say anything. The walls that had yellowed with time were now becoming black. One of the windows was falling out of the wall. There were spider webs on all four walls that overlapped to make a canopy. The scant belongings of Kashi’s family were scattered across the room in  disarray. In one corner, she saw three children eating off the same plate, which contained very diluted, watery dal, like the one Kunti had prepared for Manorama, and dry rotis of different shapes and sizes. The kids stopped eating when they saw her looking in their direction. Kashi’s youngest boy was four years old and was wrapped tightly in a duvet, lying in a corner. His eyes followed Manorama’s movement through the room.

“What is wrong with Parsu? Is he sick?” Manorama asked the walls instead of Kashi, as she stepped closer to the boy. Parsu did not look at her but stared at his toes.

“He has rickets,” Kashi whimpered.

Manorama stroked his cheeks and ran her hand through his hair.

“Have you shown him to the doctor?” she asked Kashi.

“I have,” Kashi replied. “Doctor said he needs ten shots. And each shot costs two rupees.” Kashi’s face contorted and her voice choked as she said this.

“So did you get him the shots?” Manorama asked, finally looking at Kashi.

“How can I, Madam?” she said, her eyes turned to the ground. “All the money I had, Ajudhya stole it from me. I am treating him by rubbing a copper pot against his skin; they say it can cure rickets.”

All the while, the little kid’s eyes were fixed upon Manorama and his mother. Manorama patted his cheek once again and then turned to leave. Kunti, who was standing at the door, moved aside to let her pass.

As Manorama was leaving, she stated, “This house needs a good whitewash. Even a healthy person would get sick in such an unhealthy environment.”

She left Kashi’s quarters and climbed the stairs to her house gradually. The echo of her steps on the porch, the empty veranda, and the vacant room greeted her back. The things that she had left scattered about the room were now in their proper place. On the table she found a covered tray of food for her. There was also a kettle filled with water on the stove. As she took off her coat and changed into a shawl, she heard footsteps approaching from the veranda. Kashi stood there in silence.

“What is it?” Manorama asked rudely.

“I have come to make you dinner,” Kashi replied in a soft, measured tone. “The water for your tea is also ready, so should I make some tea first?”

Manorama gazed at her for a moment and then looked away. Kashi came in and switched on the stove, and the water started to boil. Manorama picked up a book in an attempt to read. After some time, Kashi brought tea. Manorama closed her book and took the cup of tea from Kashi’s hand. Kashi smiled sheepishly.

“Madam, if ever a servant makes mistakes, you should try not to get so mad,” Kashi implored.

Manorama, still miffed, snapped, “I am not interested in all this talk,” and continued, “Most people need to be told only once. But then there are people like you who are impervious to instruction. Your kids live off dry rotis and watery dal, while you indulge yourself with ghee. How can a mother act that way?”

Kashi’s face looked like she’d been cut in half, her eyes welling up in tears.

“Sister, these children are the only reason I am still alive and carrying on,” Kashi confessed. “You saw that luckless child. I was malnourished when I delivered him, so he was born with rickets. If I am in the same condition this time, this one will also be born with some kind of illness.”

Manorama felt something sink inside of her. Even as she was sipping hot tea, her entire body was wracked with chills. She just stared at Kashi, simply stupefied.

“You are pregnant again?” she asked in utter disbelief.

Kashi’s face reflected both the awkwardness of a newlywed bride and a despondent acceptance of her situation. She nodded, let out a deep sigh, and looked at the door. Manorama felt as if Ajudhya was standing at the door mocking her. She finished her tea and put the cup down. Kashi took the cup away. Manorama felt a chill run down both her arms. She readjusted her shawl and wrapped it to cover herself properly. Kashi came back to her room. “When would you like your dinner, Madam?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Manorama inquired, “So the doctor has said that ten shots will make him better?” Kashi nodded and looked the other way. “Look, I will give you twenty rupees,” Manorama offered, getting up from the chair. “Go tomorrow straightaway and get them for him.”

She took out her purse from the trunk, got twenty rupees out from it, and placed it on the table. Her arms were getting colder. She drew them closer to her body for warmth.

After finishing her dinner, she put a chair out on the veranda and sat there for a long time. She felt a shudder running through her body. She couldn’t understand its origin or why it affected each pore of her body. The shivers were not due to anything on the outside, in the environment, but emerged from somewhere within, as if she’d been hollowed out. The wind rustling through the deodar forest sounded like agony; the trees moaned in pain. The wind whizzed, covering her entire body in a cold embrace, paralyzing her in helpless surrender. She wrapped the shawl tightly around her. Downstairs, the iron gate banged against the wall from the strong winds. She drifted off for a moment and saw Ajudhya parting his dark lips in a teasing smile, as the iron gate creaked open slowly. She was jolted from sleep, and touched her forehead to check her temperature. It was icy cold. She felt uneasy and got up from the chair, which made her shawl slip down from her shoulder and her saree flutter and flap in the wind. Her hair, coming undone, flailed in the wind and fell on her forehead, gently lapping against her face.

“Kunti!” Manorama called out in a feeble voice from the veranda. Her voice drowned in the depth of the night like a paper boat in a river with a strong current.

“Kunti!” she called out again. This time Kashi stepped out of her quarters. Manorama ordered, “If Kunti is awake, send her to me; she will sleep here tonight.” She suddenly became acutely aware of her utter dependence on Kashi and her children, and how it was so vital for her to have them stay close to her.

“Kunti is asleep, but I will wake her up and send her over.” Saying so, Kashi turned to go back inside, but Manorama stopped her. “If she is asleep, let it be. No need to wake her up for my sake.” Manorama left the veranda and came back into her room. She shut the door behind her with force, as if the wind were an intruder, trying to get inside. Manorama felt terribly frail. She pulled a quilt over her body and lay down in her bed. Her eyes, focused on the ceiling, slowly started to drift into sleep. But she wanted to keep them open. She was scared that if she shut her eyes again, Ajudhya’s dark lips would slip into her sight once again. In order to divert her mind, she started planning her letter to Sushil; maybe she could tell him that she was afraid of living alone and wanted to go to him and live together? And…and what else? There was so much she felt each passing day, was it possible to explain all of that to him? Could she tell him how hollow she felt, tell him what she needed from him so she wouldn’t feel that way anymore?

Manorama let her locks caress her face, sending her into a trance. She began to imagine that they belonged to a small child who lay next to her on the bed. The baby’s delicate lips parting like lush mango leaves and its hair dancing across her face. She gazed at this baby longingly, her elbows perched on the bed, and finally bent forward to kiss it.

Image by Julien Posture.