She came to watch me thread marigolds together. I could remember being alone like her, except then I had been living on the streets, whereas she quite likely had a comfortable hotel in which to sleep.
"You have such nimble fingers." She had said to me gesturing with her own fingers.
"What is nimble?" I enquired in my deliberate effort to pronounce the words well.
"You speak English!"
She seemed delighted. She never did explain that word nimble, to me but started up a conversation instead. It was limited but we found gestures and smiles could fill in well for any lack of the necessary words. Her name was Liz She came almost every day to speak to me. Very soon she got to know the twins, Supriya, and Kajal but it was Lipika she favoured most. Lipika, who was just beginning to string words together, had begun to pick up Liz's English words. I felt envious that her accent was better than mine! Whenever she saw the English lady coming she called out, "Liz, Liz. 'lo, 'lo, 'lo, 'lo", which she repeated over and over until Liz scooped her up and tossed her into the air.
This morning Lipika reached for the big sack on Liz's back. Liz dumped it on the ground for Lipika to explore. Without difficulty she found the English sweets she was allowed to share with the twins. I bent down to replace the items she had scattered about her, an orange, small perfumed sticks, a bag of wooden beads, and a faded red cloth covered book. I picked up the book. It smelt musty. Some of the pages were loose. Liz plucked it from me.
"Oh please be careful with that. It's a very old translation of 'Macbeth' into Bengali."
"What is that?"
"'Macbeth'? It's a story that was written hundreds of years ago by an Englishman who understood why men behave as they do."
"Women also?"
For some reason Liz seemed amused by my question. "Yes."
She tried to explain what the story was about but I was not sure I understood all she was saying. I guessed 'Macbeth' must have been a very powerful and sad man.
"Would you like to read some of the story, Manasa?"
I did not want to tell her I could not read. How could I have guessed she was going to ask me to read her dusty little book that looked older than me? After turning it around in my hands and studying one or two pages intently. I said, "It is a difficult book for me to read even in my own language."
She placed the book in a pocket on the outside of her sack and smiled at me.
Relieved I asked, "Would you like some cha? In Darjeeling tea is very good, Liz."
"Yes please."
"You will teach me to speak the better English?"
"OK. Let's talk about the market." She suggested.
She was patient and seemed even to enjoy our awkward conversation. I stumbled over the new words she taught me so that we could share our thoughts about the ubiquitous umbrellas, ornaments and woollens. Some of the sounds were new to me. My lips and tongue seemed to fight each other to form these unfamiliar words. I could see a grin hovering around Liz's mouth and when I finally I began to giggle she leaned against me to laugh freely. I liked her very much.
"We will drink cha now." I said and poured her a large cup.
We watched the children playing with the sweets Liz had given them. They looked so happy. My mind wandered back to the little ones living under Mona's harshness. How cruel life could be. She travelled to distant villages collecting her bundle of strays and making false commitments to their parents. How could she betray them all, as she did? What would those children's parents think if they knew what had happen to their little ones? What would they do? Some must have been desperate, though I knew now, some people would not think twice about ridding themselves of daughters. Sons would be a blessing in old age. Daughters left them and took whatever the parents could give in the way of a dowry. Never would I trust Lipika to anyone else. I must never allow myself to become ill like Kajal and unable to care for Lipika or the others. I felt desperately close to tears.
"What is wrong, Manasa. Are you crying?" My tears had betrayed me. Liz's voice had become gentle and concerned. She seemed not to mind.
"I was thinking of my parents. I have not seen them for a very long time and they have never seen Lipika." I told her all I could expect her to understand.
"That's sad. Don't you ever visit them?"
"No."
"Do they live far from here?"
"It seems like a vast, vast desert between us."
"You have such a nice little family here, Manasa. Won't your husband allow you to visit if you tell him how much it would mean to you?"
The thought of visiting mummy had never occurred to me as being in the slightest bit possible. My mind was rushing around itself to cope with the impossible English language, that I loved so much, and trying to work out whether I could think of visiting home again.
Liz remarked. "I haven't wanted to marry up to now but since I've been travelling around India and have seen such warm and loyal family life, it has begun to tempt me."
"How old are you?" I asked in amazement. She could choose not to marry! How could she choose such misfortune?
"I'm twenty-seven. I know what you're thinking but it's different in England. Young people make their own decision about when, if, and whom they will marry. I know my parents will be very happy if I do marry."
I really could not comprehend such a place as England. The youth there had so much responsibility. Like me, forced to chose my own husband. We lapsed into silence again.
"I enjoyed that very much." She put down her cup and wriggled off her stool to leave.
"You must come and eat with us soon. When I next see you?"
"That would be fantastic. May I bring my friend Sally? We are here together?"
"She is welcome too." Now I knew she liked me. I smiled wide and it was one of such pleasure that it fixed itself in place making me appear to have a secret I was bursting to share.
Later at home, when I saw Kajal sitting vacantly in her corner the sadness I had felt earlier gradually closed round me again. I could not stop thinking of home. Nothing in my life had been permanent. Liz would leave to return to her parents to marry, as she had said. One day Lipika would be grown up. What would she do with her life then? Would she leave me? Would my marriage last? I wished I could see mummy again. I wondered idly if she had seen our sisters, Shreela or Pratibha, since Kajal and I had left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
"Mummy, Mummy, come!" Lipika's unmistakable cry above the hubbub of the bazaar. I turned to look for her. I could see the twins. Yes there she was jumping up and down between them. I turned back to my work. Lipika called many times a day for the trivial fascinations a small child needs to share. She would tell me soon enough of her new discovery. But who was that I had glimpsed? I turned back. Dinesh. It was Dinesh, at last.
"Supriya, Dinesh is here!"
"Run. Go and see him."
A sudden bewildering uncertainty immobilised me. Our whole relationship and way of life had changed so drastically I did not know how to behave. Now that it was no longer essential for me to be used by men, all the resentment and shame that had welled up over the last months suddenly overwhelmed me. Dinesh had been different but he had known about the other men and how I had lived.
"He is coming to us." I managed to say, as unsteady I dropped down onto a stool.
Dinesh was waving. Again I saw the way his shambling walk enhanced the flow of his strong lean body. His walk was right. He leaned into his rolling stride with an energy that was reflected in the warmth of his dark smiling eyes. A number of enthusiastic chattering men and small children had gathered to walk with him. I had forgotten how appealing he was to everyone. No wonder Mona had been scathing about him. She had been jealous! How much I admired him and how I had missed him but his arrival had stirred up my memories of my past shame and a chasm seemed to have opened up between us. Now that our situations were indeed equal, I did not feel I deserved equality. He caught sight of me and extricated himself from the crowd with an easy charm.
<
br /> "Here I am, Manasa and how is my wife?" He beamed.
"Very ... happy" I faltered. His warm voice and smile had always dispelled my darkness. Usually there was only room for light when Dinesh was near, but now, I was aware of the shadows cast.
He did not comment. Instead he said. "And you look well too, Supriya."
She nodded and glanced at him shyly. "Darjeeling is good, very good. Clever of you both to choose this place for us all."
"Dear Supriya. You always find the kind thing to say." I replied, wishing I could have found a more encouraging greeting for Dinesh.
"We are becoming a family. I'm very happy with that." Dinesh's contented smile began to soften my anxiety.
Supriya looked pleased with herself. "That is how I think of all of you, Manasa. I was lonely until I met you and Kajal. Then I found my sisters ... and brother. I'm glad you let me come here with you."
"And you're busy selling lots of flowers these days?" Dinesh enquired.
"Flowers and kites. You must see our beautiful kites. We are making money but we need to find even more things to sell."
Dinesh soon added his own contribution to our success with flowers and kites. He had come prepared with some ideas of his own. For this he had brought pots of paint and a sack of dried peepul leaves on which he painted young women, dancing snakes rising from their baskets, oil lamps, and other colourful images. I had no idea he could produce such wonderful work. Our stall was soon swamped with onlookers' noisy chatter and the customers we needed. Dinesh was the yeast that bubbled up new life for us. The twins and Lipika had fresh clean mountain air to romp in, free from the misery that had hovered over their lives in Calcutta. They were behaving more like lambs frisking joyfully with the flock. Dinesh would guard them and with him Supriya and I would tear to pieces any opportunist wolf that threatened us. Surely, surely, Mona could not find us here? Kajal was the one we had no idea how to reach. What it was she needed, she was unable to tell us and we had been unable to discover for ourselves.
After a long and enjoyable supper that night, there was much to discuss but impossible until the children slept. Dinesh went off to sit with the men for a while. I was glad we were becoming part of the community. What troubled me increasingly, was why we had not left the brothel sooner. The familiar answers were always ready. We had not enough money. We were not organised. We were afraid. How would we have survived if we had taken the risk of leaving unprepared? These answers no longer satisfied me. The dreadfulness of what we had accepted to live every day could not be answered so simply.
The children had, at last, fallen asleep. With the usual mixture of joy and heaviness that I had been experiencing since living in Darjeeling I stroked my child's head and covered her with a blanket. The twins lay beside her. One on each side like little sentinels. Madhu's thick wavy hair spread out around her like careless black ribbons. The fingers of her not much larger hands were interlaced with Lipika's plump baby fingers. Even in sleep they seemed to be playing together, to share a secret. Madhu would never be dull or ordinary. Semanti faced away from them. Her graceful limbs hardly indenting her mattress. She danced and moved alone in another world. Kajal was also sleeping, curled into a ball, mouth open, and snoring softly. Strange how her inertia and low spirit seemed to require such energy of her. She looked old and weary beneath a faded shawl. What future could she have if she remained like this?
Supriya touched my arm lightly. "It's not good, Manasa, to see you looking at Kajal with such sorrowful eyes. It's bad enough that she suffers. Yet she seems to protect her pain behind a kind of muslin screen. Nothing gets in and she allows out only a very little. What can we do?"
"We should have come away long ago. I ask myself over and over, why we didn't leave the brothel sooner? We hated it there. Why did we stay?"
"That isn't hard to understand." As I looked at her expectantly she took my hand. "We were afraid to die or to starve."
"We had each other. We should have tried harder to find a way to do something else."
"Not with Mona there to divide us and cast fear over us. Then, there was Pramath."
"I was never afraid of him."
"His men carry knives. Without hesitation, they would kill anyone who disobeyed. Pramath had only to say the word. Women have been killed before you came. Customers have been killed, too. I can't believe how bold and lucky we have been to have escaped at all."
"Customers killed? Women have been killed? Lavali frightened me with her stories but she was always making dramas about everything. She liked the attention. I never really believed her though."
"The year before you joined us, a small number of women had opposed Mona. She kept them short of food, she beat them every day, and forced on them customers she knew they particularly hated. They left to join another house not far away. One by one they were found with their throats cut outside their new brothel. It was terrifying. Each time after one of them died, Pramath impressed on us it that is was to be a warning for the rest of us to remain loyal."
"You didn't tell me all of that."
"I wanted to forget about it. I was so afraid."
"How, then, did you find the courage to risk leaving with us?"
Supriya thought for a moment. "Perhaps it was having to decide without time to think. What was there to look forward to? Eventually, too old to sell myself, I knew I'd be on the streets again, all alone. I'd taught myself not to think of the hopelessness of the future but I didn't like the present either."
"Where are your family, Supriya?"
"I don't know. My mother died a very long time ago. There was nobody else who cared about me, except an old aunty and then she died too."
We both fell into silence for a time, each in our own thoughts of the past. My mother did care for me. Although I missed her still it was difficult to imagine speaking to her after all that had happened. I knew she would love Lipika. She would be distraught if she could see how unhappy Kajal was. Surely, mummy would not have changed much since I last saw her but I had changed beyond recognition. Would my father still be bullying and drinking? I felt a kind of numbness when I thought of him. So often I had longed for him to smile at me, or to say some small word of approval but he had never been able to do that. Now it was too late and I no longer cared. I turned sharply from my uncomfortable thoughts to make us some cha, for Dinesh had returned from talking with the men.
"The cha here is wonderful." He sipped noisily.
"How long will you stay with us this time Dinesh?"
"Always." He smiled.
"But where, then, is Sharmila?" I asked in alarm.
"Sharmila was too frightened to come with me when I told her that I must leave immediately, even though she knew it would be hard for her to continue in the market alone." He seemed reluctant to continue.
"If she is not with you, dear brother, then where is she?" Supriya asked in her most gently persuasive tone.
He seemed to have to search for an answer. At last he admitted, "I don't know."
"But we must know what happened to her, to Anil and Tarun." I felt a terrible presentiment wash over me.
"I told her you were waiting to see her. I said I would explain to her on the way. Still she was afraid to come with me. Perhaps she didn't believe me, I don't know. She simply disappeared after that. There is so much gossip in the market about all of you. It really didn't feel safe to stay any longer."
"Sharmila must have heard the gossip too. What were they saying?" I insisted.
"Bad things. Lies."
"You must tell us." I demanded.
"They said you had killed the little Ch'en and ran off with large sums of money stolen from Mona's safe."
"Killed little Ch'en?" Supriya drained and shocked looked to me demanding an answer with her troubled eyes. "Ch'en is making films. I don't understand."
"Mona let everyone believe that so that no blame for his murder would come to the brothel. The Arab uncle's filmmaker's killed Ch'en. Kajal saw them do it. That was why
she ran away and came back to find me. They threatened to kill her too. They said if she didn't obey their disgusting demands they would tell the police that she had killed Ch'en. Who would believe a prostitute's word?" I replied.
They both stared in shock then. Neither spoke for a time. It wasn't something they could easily absorb and now they were both associated through Kajal and me with the accusations.
"This is terrible, poor Kajal. No wonder she is so upset. How hurt and frightened she must be." Supriya said kindly putting her arm around me as I began to cry helplessly.
Dinesh looked troubled. He said at last. "Now I understand your need to leave hurriedly. I was very happy that at last, you were ready to go. It all happened so fast, I had no time to consider properly what had made you decided to go at that moment. It's bad for Kajal. It may be dangerous for us and for Sharmila. First you all disappear. Then Sharmila and now me. Mona will put it all together. If they find Sharmila they will question her. They will be afraid of her going to the police."
Sari Caste Page 20