Read Online Queen of Dreams by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni - Free Book Online

then fast and sure. He knew she couldn’t get away. He was saying something, but the words came to me only as gutturals. I knew she heard them differently. To her they were full of promise. I heard her turn toward him. I tried to tell her no, but the veil had blocked my mouth. A sharp, delicious intake of breath, a sound a girl might make before she’s kissed for the first time. But I couldn’t be sure if that was what I heard. Through the veil, all was uncertain. I couldn’t decipher what the man symbolized. When in her life he would appear, or where.
    When Rakhi awoke weeping, I was weeping, too. It was a hard fact to come to terms with—that I, who interpreted dreams for a worldful of strangers, would never be able to explain to my daughter what her dreams meant. I’d never be able to warn her away from the disasters of her life.
    In the morning, I did the only thing left to me. I bought the dream from Rakhi. I bought it for a dollar bill, since I didn’t have any cowrie shells. I’d read of the ritual in the Brihat Swapna Sarita, but I’d left before I had a chance to see it done. Learning from reading isn’t the same as having an elder teach it to you. So that, too, I botched.
    I would realize this only later. But already I sensed that my efforts were as useful as a thumb pressed over a torn artery.
    I’d been defeated by the oneness of blood.

9
     
    Rakhi
     
    Belle and I have been driven to break one of our cardinal rules: never snack during working hours. We munch gloomily on Delhi Dietbusters and watch the GRAND OPENING!! banner across the street. It flutters merrily even though there isn’t a breath of breeze anywhere. I am about to remark on this fact when the phone rings.
    Belle reaches for the phone with a listless hand. But then she perks up. “It’s Kathryn,” she announces, “from the Atelier!”
    I rush to the phone, my heart thudding.
    “The board has reviewed your portfolio and has agreed to hold a show of your paintings,” Kathryn tells me in her white-wine-and-black-evening-dress voice. “There was a cancellation, and a space has opened up in two weeks’ time. Do you think you can have your paintings ready in a couple of weeks?”
    Can I! I’ve been waiting for over six months to hear from the Atelier, considered the most prestigious gallery on this side of the bay. I curb my inclination to let out a wild whoop and inform Kathryn that I’ll be able to bring the bulk of the paintings into the gallery by next weekend. We agree that the opening reception will be held on a Friday evening two weeks from now.
    As soon as I hang up Belle flings herself at me and hugs me tight. “Congratulations! Your first show—and at the Atelier, too! Rikki, I’m so proud of you!” She kisses me loudly on both cheeks, then pulls back, eyes wide. “Why, it’s just like your mother predicted! It hasn’t even been an hour since she said one of us would receive good news!”
    “It could be chance,” I say drily.
    Belle shakes her head. “You can say what you like, but you’re one lucky girl to have a mother like that.” Another thought strikes her, widening her eyes further. “Maybe she made it happen! You think she could have—”
    I roll my eyes. “Is it so impossible to believe the board reviewed my work and decided I’m a good painter?” But inside, I have my own doubts.
    I call my mother to tell her the news, and listen carefully as she says how delighted she is. She sounds surprised and excited and a little teary, just like any normal mother would—or is she a better actress than I suspect? I ask her to keep the evening of the reception free. Not that I expect my parents to be busy with another event. I can’t remember when they last had a night out, or invited friends over. Do they even have friends? But this is too significant for me to take any chances.
    “Of course, dear,” my mother says. “I wouldn’t miss it for life or death.” There’s the slightest hesitation. Then she