Saree

by Su Dharmapala

  I is scared. I never leaves street before. Marmee buy vegetables. Marcel buy rice. And idiot sister-in-law bring water.

  I follow Koddi. I is very careful. Holes of water everywhere. Mud. Dirt. Sani. Street be busy. Peoples. Cars. Trucks. Dogs. Cows. Everybodies goes everywhere. Peoples goes to work. Peoples goes to temple. Peoples goes to market. I is so scared I cannots see Koddi. But I follows her saree. Blue wit gold. Even dat hard. Kanchipuram be city of saree. Everywhere bright sarees.

  I suddenly looks up to see I be lost. I cannots see Marmee anywhere. I no breath. I no know how to get home. I no know how to gets anywhere. Dat when I hears it. When I sees it. Like goddess stand before me. All white. Statues going up into de sky. I stand dere. Also like statue.

  Marmee comes and tugs my hair. Hard. ‘What? Have you not seen temple before?’

  I shakes my head.

  ‘Dat be Kamakshi Amman temple. It be for Kamakshi Devi.’

  I no know whats to say. De temple so beautiful.

  Den we runs. ‘We must gets to house before crow cries,’ Marmee says.

  Big Sir house far away from shanties. Dere be few peoples on de road. Dere be no sani on de road. Dere be no cows on de road. Dere be no dogs on de road. Dere only be big white walls.

  ‘Walls so big I cannot sees de sky,’ I says to my Laksman.

  If de fence big, de house bigger. Maybe like king palace. Maybe God house. It be bigger dan all de houses in my village. We goes around to de back. We walks around de mango trees and to de kitchen. Kitchen in small outside big house. Kitchen house bigger than Guru Rameshwaran house in my village. It be busy. More peoples. Maybe ten or fifteen. All busy.

  ‘Koddi! Achaa! You be sight for sore eyes,’ big lady wit big nose-ring and many bangles cries. ‘How you man? You boy? Gopal say dey cut you man leg! What you do now?’

  I sees Gopal. He be skinny boy who live behind our house wit no front teeth. He lives wit six brother and father. No woman in de house. His mam dies when cow runs her down when she sani on road. His house very dirty.

  ‘Gopal is idiot,’ Marmee say. She make fist to hit Gopal but he walks into house fast. ‘No, dey no cut my man leg. I takes him to Ayurveda hospital. I needs money for medicine.’

  ‘Sir says he sees you. You bring Murukananthan wife work in sangeet.’

  ‘Achaa, yes. Here she be,’ Marmee says pushing me. ‘Dis is Balini baba. You do what she tells you do. Balini baba, Pilar be stupid girl from village. You hit her if she no do what you want she do,’ Marmee says. She turns to go.

  ‘Here, take dis,’ Balini baba says. She quickly wraps dosai in big banana leaf and puts in some vadai too. My stomach growls. I looks away.

  ‘Romba nanringa,’ Marmee says. Again and again. She kisses Balini baba’s hand. We only eats plain rice for days now.

  ‘Pilar, come,’ Balini baba says. She be kind woman. She takes me to another hut in garden.

  ‘What dis?’ I asks. Dere be hole in de ground wit bowl. Dere also be a big water bucket next to hole in ground.

  ‘It is the toilet,’ she says.

  ‘What you do in toilet?’

  ‘You sani and you pass water and you wash with water. Now,’ she says, opening a cupboard. Dere be hundreds of sarees. White. All stacked. She takes Laksman. He awake now. He smiles. He got two teeth.

  ‘First thing you do when you come here is you wash and you change. Go,’ she says giving me bucket wit water and little square of white ting. ‘Take it. It called soap. Dis what you do,’ she says, making white ting fluffy under tap. She shows me how to wash. My hands. My feet. My face. ‘Every two days, you must wash your body.’

  ‘Whats?’ I cries.

  ‘You goes in here and you wash your body.’

  ‘Buts I never wash,’ I says. ‘I only ever wash in river in village in dry season. When river not full.’

  She walks to other side of room and turns shiny little ting on wall. Water comes out of hole in walls like rain. I goes to look and she push me in. Like dat. I screams and screams. ‘Aiyhoo!’ Balini baba she laughs. I hear mens laughing from outside. Laksman laugh.

  ‘Eh! Gopal, you bloody fool! Get out of here,’ Balini baba screams. And laughing stop. I stops screaming. ‘Now use the soap,’ she says. It smell good. I comes out. I sees myself in shiny ting on wall for first time. Maybe I is not as ugly as Koddi says. My skin light like Laksman and I got big eyes like Laksman. I realise dat my Laksman, he look like me.

  ‘Now you wears saree,’ Balini baba she says, giving me a fresh white saree, underskirt and blouse from de cupboard. ‘You go pass water you change saree. You go sani you change saree. You change saree when you go home. You change saree when you come back. You never wear saree from road into house. You never wear cleaning house saree for serving food. You understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ I says, draping in my saree. Dis be my first saree without holes. It soft. And clean. I go to take Laksman.

  ‘You bring baby, you wash baby too,’ Balini baba says and she put my Laksman into bucket. He screams now. I laugh. Balini baba wash him good wit soap. He come out very white. Like milk.

  ‘If I didn’t know it, I tink he be a baby from a respectable family,’ Balini baba says softly. But I hears.

  ‘He be smart boy, he be good boy,’ I says, taking him and putting him into my pallu. He hungry now. He take titty.

  And dat is how we starts working in de Govindarajan house. De biggest house in town. De house of Kanchipuram Silk.

  I works hard. I get to de big house every morning before crows wakes ands I leaves after Balini baba takes de bed tea to Sir and Madame and Missy. But I never sees Sir, Madame or Missy. Dey in house. I work in de kitchen and outside.

  ‘Sridevi was de garden and kitchen girl,’ Balini baba says. ‘But she got coughing sickness so she gone back to village. Big Sir be big angry. He comes in and calls us all dirty filth. Says we must wash alls de time. Says garden and kitchen girl cannots come to house no more. Only garden and kitchen,’ she whispers. She looks over shoulder to see if Sir be dere.

  ‘Balini baba, so you looks after all house?’ I asks. Bali baba strong woman I tinks.

  ‘Achaa, no!’ she laughs. ‘Dere be Gopal, he does most of de heavy cleaning. Dat fool Henry, he drive Sir’s car. Den his brother Thomas, he drive car for Madame and Missy. Venay and Gunay be de cooks. Den dere is Mr Krishnapillay – he be de Sir personal servant. Like Miss Sonali – she be de personal servant to Madame. Dey never speaks to us. Don’t speaks to dem. And Mama Leela be Missy’s ayah. Since baby, she looks after Missy.’

  ‘She be very happy abouts wedding?’

  Balini baba looks away. She not answer.

  ‘But Missy pretty, yes? She is daughter of Sir.’

  ‘Yes, Missy is very pretty, but . . .’ Balini baba shrugs. ‘But Big Sir and Madame dey nots happy abouts marriage.’

  ‘Dey say it be biggest sangeet since maharajah time,’ Gopal says, bringing boxes of glasses, and Balini baba tells me time for work.

  And I washes glasses. Oh more glasses dan I cans count. I washes so much my fingers be like dry betel leaf. We puts glasses on racks and stack ems against kitchen wall. Nice and neat. Like a big wall of glasses. In de afternoon, de light come and it be like fireflies in de village. Laksman likes to crawl dere. Watch de light dat come through.

  Thomas and Henry build a hut in garden. Like de hut I lives in village. But bigger. De hut be bigger dan Murukananthan house. And very pretty. Like maharajah house. Wit pretty carved wood everywhere and lights.

  ‘Who live in dis house?’ I asks Balini baba. ‘Is it for Missy and her new husband?’

  ‘Silly girl! Dis house is not living in! Dis house for waiters to serve drinks from!’

  And she be right. Two day before sangeet waiters come. Cooks come. Dey all be fine men. Wear shirt and pant. No sarong. Clean white shirt. Not like Murukananthan. I stands dere. Watching. My Laksman watch too.

  ‘Eh, Gopal,’ Balini baba says. ‘I tink Pilar in love! Like in film show!�
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  ‘Love, love,’ Gopal laugh. He pretend to be woman. Walk like woman.

  ‘Eh, Balini baba,’ I says loudly. ‘I tink de hijra dey come early . . . de wedding in five days, not now!’ Hijra be not man, not woman. Dey comes to bless marriage. Many mens no like hijra.

  De waiters laugh now. ‘De hijra only come day of wedding. You be confused, Gopal. You come early to practise,’ dey laugh. Gopal walks away angry.

  Buts I works. I cleans de garden. I chops wood. I likes working in de big house. Laksman likes being in de big house. I can let him play. Dere be no dirt on ground.

  De day before sangeet a big lorry comes in. Drive close to kitchen. Careful wit de mango trees he goes around. I sits at kitchen door washing more glasses. I is so tired I unties my pallu and lets my Laksman down. Wash an stack. Wash an stack.

  ‘What in dere?’ Balini baba asks, coming out of de kitchen. She crazy busy wit work.

  ‘More glasses for sangeet. And plates,’ de driver says.

  ‘But we gots plates and we gots glasses. We got more dan we needs,’ she says.

  ‘But de Sir has ordered more.’

  ‘Well I don’ts have de space for it!’

  ‘Akka, I gots lots more to deliver for sangeet. I not waste time wit you!’

  ‘Drop it off at de top of de garden den. I will get Gopal and Henry to move it after I talks to Big Sir.’

  But Gopal and Henry gets angry. ‘I not works for you,’ Henry says. ‘I not carry heavy glasses! Sir says drops off at kitchen.’ Everybody crazy angry. Dey all too busy wit work for sangeet.

  ‘I be very tired. I works hard,’ Gopal says. He chops big load of firewood ands he hang all lights today.

  ‘I work hard too!’ Balini baba says. ‘And I don’ts have more space for more glasses and plates.’

  ‘You stupid woman! Dat not my problem,’ Gopal says. But he looks scared.

  ‘You calls me stupid woman! You calls me stupid woman!’ Balini baba screams and hit Gopal. Everyone stops and stares at fight. Balini baba grab broom and hit Gopal over de head again. ‘I old enough to be your mother. You mother die, I looks after you after she die. And you calls me stupid woman!’

  I so busy staring at fight I not see lorry keep coming to kitchen outside.

  ‘Aiiiiii! Pilar, looks!’ Balini baba screams.

  I screams. Laksman behind lorry. I cannot move. I tink I die. My boy die, I die.

  Balini baba moves. She run like wind. She grabs Laksman and pushes him away. And de wall of glasses falls on her. In de afternoon. Tiny tiny pieces of glass. Everywhere. Shine. Like precious stones on Madame finger rings. I scream. My boy safe but Balini baba be all cut up.

  Dey say de doctor put sewing stitches. Like saree blouse. She sew up all over. She too sick to do sangeet. Balini baba sits in bed in corner and cry.

  Sir comes to kitchen. ‘Just as well I ordered the extra glasses and plates,’ he says. ‘Who are you?’ he asks me.

  ‘I be Pilar . . .’

  ‘Ahh . . . yes, Murukananthan’s wife. Well, you’ll be the kitchen and house girl now. Make sure you wash your hands and feet each time you come into the house. And use soap,’ he says.

  Dat is hows I starts working in de house. My Laksman and me. Just like dat.

  Working in de house mean I no go home.

  ‘Koddi, Pilar is to work in the house now,’ Sir explains to Marmee, giving her paper money. ‘She can go home one day a week. On a Tuesday. That is her day off. But at all other times, she lives and works here. I do not want disease from the town being carried into the house every day.’

  I shares a room wit Balini baba. Most of de time she sits and cries in pain. I feels sad. De doctor come and give me medicine to give her. ‘Put this powder in water,’ de young man says. ‘It’s for the pain.’ He wears smart clothes. Western clothes wit cloth string around neck.

  ‘Is dat cloth string around neck like for cow?’ I asks Balini baba.

  She laughs weakly. ‘Dat necktie. Foreigner clothes.’ Den she asks me to go get de paper dey use to start de cooking fire outside. ‘If you work in de house, you must learn.’

  Dat nights I wash Balini baba’s cuts wit water boiled wit neem leaves from de garden mixed wit turmeric. Whiles I wash, she teach me. Showing me pictures from de papers. ‘Western men wears pants, shirt and necks tie. Womens wear dress.’

  ‘Girl childrens wear dress and deir mothers wear dress too?’

  ‘Yes,’ Balini baba says, shaking her head. She be confused too. It be very strange. How peoples know if girl child be old enough to marry if she and mother wear same clothes?

  Balini baba be right. I must learn. Sir, Madame and Missy have many important friends. Tamil friends. Hindi friends from New Delhi. Foreigner friends. Dey all talks in white peoples’ language. It be like putting oil in frypan. Loud like firecrackers and very fast.

  But I no listen. I too busy. I house servant now. I even gets new saree. White wit blue lines and little silver leaves. I now takes bed tea for Sir, Madame and Missy. Ands I makes sure Gopal sweeps de house and not sleep under stairs.

  I also gets ready for sangeet. I makes sure all house is clean. Balini baba tells me whats to do and I do it wit Laksman tied to my back. Gopal and I takes Balini baba to see what be happening. And she be very happy. ‘You works hard, Pilar. You works good. I be so proud of you.’

  So proud dat on day of sangeet Balini baba says to Sir, ‘Pilar can helps upstairs. She cans help Mama Leela.’

  And dere be lots to do. I goes up in de morning. My Laksman sleep in my pallu drinking titty. Missy still sleep in bed. Mama Leela sleeps on floor next to Missy. Missy room big as two village hut. And Missy have bathroom in room. And her clothes room. Aiii! Dat be bigger dan one hut. Wit saree of every colour everywhere.

  But soon Missy wakes up. She takes tea and peoples come. Dey wash her face. Dey put crushed cucumbers and buffalo curds on her face. Den dey comes to wash her hair. Dey use water dat dey put lotus flower in. I stands at de door and I can smells it. It so sweet make my head spin.

  After lunch tings get more busy. More peoples come to do her hair and dey put henna on her hands and feet. Den dey paint her face. De peoples asks me to do jobs for dem. ‘Pilar,’ dey says, ‘get me a cup of tea!’ Or ‘Pilar, can you ask Gopal to get more ice for my drink?’ I runs ups and downs stairs so much I dizzy.

  Maybe dat why I no realise I in room wit Missy and Sir. I comes out of Missy’s bathroom. I comes out and see Missy in front of mirror. She like goddess. Like Hindi film star. I stands dere like rock when I sees Sir comes in.

  ‘Shanthi, putta, you are so beautiful. I am so proud of you,’ he cries. ‘You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to marry him.’

  ‘But I have to. I really do,’ Missy says.

  ‘But he is half a man,’ Sir says. I see tears come from his eyes. ‘Shanthi, you only have to say the word and I will cancel this wedding. I will send everything back and I will make your excuses to old Mr Nair. I’ll even organise a marriage for his daughter if you will not marry his son.’

  ‘No, Appa.’

  ‘Why no? Why, my puttar? Why are you breaking my heart like this?’

  ‘Because I love him.’

  ‘But he is not worthy of you . . .’ Sir pleads.

  ‘Appa, please listen to me. I have loved him since I was a little girl.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. You hid in the staircase watching him when you were eight. You were too scared to even speak.’

  ‘I never thought he’d agree to the proposal. But now he has,’ Missy says. She smiles.

  ‘Shanthi,’ Sir says, looking very sad. He open his mouth and closes it. Opens it and closes it again. Den he tinks and he speaks. Slowly. ‘I don’t know that he has agreed to this marriage at all. I think this is more his father’s doing.’

  ‘I don’t care as long as he is mine.’

  Sir shakes his head. He be very sad. ‘My darling girl. I can save you from this farce until I hand you to the pusari tomorrow. Ju
st one word from you, my darling, or even a look, and I will call this off.’

  ‘Appa, you worry too much. All will be well in the end.’ Missy smiles again.

  Sir leave room. I is in room wit Missy. I turns to go back wit cleaning tings to bathroom when Missy looks up and sees me.

  ‘Ahh, Pilar,’ she says. I looks up. ‘I gather you heard all that?’ I nods my head. ‘Then you’ll understand why I’ll have to make you my personal maid. I cannot have you blabbing all that down in the shanties.’

  And dat is hows I become Missy Shanthi’s servant. Now I do more more. Just like dat.

  Now I know de roads. I even goes into town wit Henry for tings for Madame. Like oil for her head massage. She say she like it new. ‘Bring me some fresh oil for my headaches,’ she says. I no tell her dat medicine man give me oil from same pot every day.

  I walks through town slowly dat morning wit Laksman. Like first day, peoples busy. Cows. Dogs. Bicycles. Cars. Buses. It be early buts I stops at de temple. I never been to big temple before. In my village, dere only be one tree wit Mariamman. I walks in and looks.

  ‘Thangachichi, you are here to do a pooja for your son?’ de young pusari asks me.

  He mistake me for a rich woman wit money for pooja. Maybe dat because of my new saree. Madame gives away saree yesterday. ‘My daughter is married now, what use do I have for grand sarees,’ she says and she opens her cupboard.

  Her clothes room as big as Missy bedroom. She gives Mama Leela and her servant Miss Sonali de best sarees. Bright colours like on parrot. Orange. Blue. Green. Yellow. She gives Balini baba and me less good saree. Balini baba no go out much now dat she look like cut blouse, so gives me her sarees too. And I takes em. So under one arm I carries about fifteen sarees for Koddi and idiot sister-in-law. In my other hand I carries big bag of dosai and biryani. Three day old. From de wedding. Just as well Laksman sleep in my pallu tucked in closely cause I no got arms to carry him.