tufts of hair.
Arya stared at the sheet that barely covered my blouse, at the wetness that blossomed down my petticoat. He took a step towards me, his jaw set in a line, his eyes devoid of expression. For an instant, as I squeezed past with my sheet gathered tightly around, I thought he was going to reach out and grab my arm. But he stayed where he was, not stepping aside to make my passage easier, but not making a move to impede me, either.
My heart beating, I returned to the bedroom and turned off the light. I thought I heard the sound of the gate to the street being opened and closed. I kept listening for Aryaâs footsteps in the adjoining room, but he didnât return. I arranged my petticoat loosely over my legs so that the fan could blow on it. When I awoke again, to the receding call of a train, the dampness was gone.
FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS both my dowry and I were on display.
Early the first morning, Hema burst into the room, saying that the handcart pushers from the factory had arrived with the refrigerator Paji had sent. After several absurd attempts to push it through the tiny kitchen opening, Arya had the men set it down in the living room instead. Mataji lit incense to welcome it, as she would a new member of the household, Babuji broke a coconut at its feet, and Arya marked a red holy mark with vermilion on its forehead.
Devâs family had asked for a Kelvinator fridge, but Paji had refused to pay for a foreign brand, saying it would be an Indian-made Godrej and nothing else. Ardeshir Godrej had become famous by finding a way to make soap out of vegetable oil instead of the animal tallow so offensive to many Hindus. His brother had expanded the company rapidly after Independence, branching to talcums and toiletries, large steel cupboards, and very recently, appliances. The fridge Paji had managed to procure was a prototype, not even available for general sale as yet. âI hope they had the sense to get at least the important parts from England,â Babuji remarked, as he peered skeptically into the freezer.
Hema went up and down the block, announcing to everyone that the fridge (the first one in the colony) had finally been delivered. Somewhat spitefully, she even told the stationmasterâs family next door that henceforth, they would be able to ask for ice at any time they wanted. At one point, fifteen neighbors (mostly children) were milling around in the living room, gawking at Hema playing with the compartments and trays and knobs. The crowd lost interest somewhat when they found out that the ice cubes Hema had promised might not be ready for several hours. One of them tried to climb the shelves to get at the freezer, at which point Babuji used an umbrella to swat them away.
By teatime, the radiogram had been delivered as well. The enormous cabinet housing the components was made of a fine-grained wood stained so dark it was almost black. Mataji declared the color inauspicious, and suggested painting it something more cheery, like red. Hema wanted to alert the neighbors again, but wasnât able to tear herself from the gramophone, on which she kept playing the same film record over and over again. She hadnât listened to it for two years, ever since the family gramophone had broken, she explained. Babuji seemed taken at first by the multiple shortwave channels of the radio and the glow of the tubes inside. Later, however, he complained to Arya that they could have repaired the gramophone, that the old radio had been just fine. âItâs mostly wood, this radiogramâwhy didnât we ask for more money instead?â
Me, they exhibited mostly in the bedroom. Each morning, Mataji selected the sari and jewelry set I was to wear that day, from the dowry chest I had brought with me. She was the one who orchestrated the viewings, making sure my gunghat was in position before the visitors entered, smiling proudly when they commented on the beauty of my ornaments (and, just
Arya stared at the sheet that barely covered my blouse, at the wetness that blossomed down my petticoat. He took a step towards me, his jaw set in a line, his eyes devoid of expression. For an instant, as I squeezed past with my sheet gathered tightly around, I thought he was going to reach out and grab my arm. But he stayed where he was, not stepping aside to make my passage easier, but not making a move to impede me, either.
My heart beating, I returned to the bedroom and turned off the light. I thought I heard the sound of the gate to the street being opened and closed. I kept listening for Aryaâs footsteps in the adjoining room, but he didnât return. I arranged my petticoat loosely over my legs so that the fan could blow on it. When I awoke again, to the receding call of a train, the dampness was gone.
FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS both my dowry and I were on display.
Early the first morning, Hema burst into the room, saying that the handcart pushers from the factory had arrived with the refrigerator Paji had sent. After several absurd attempts to push it through the tiny kitchen opening, Arya had the men set it down in the living room instead. Mataji lit incense to welcome it, as she would a new member of the household, Babuji broke a coconut at its feet, and Arya marked a red holy mark with vermilion on its forehead.
Devâs family had asked for a Kelvinator fridge, but Paji had refused to pay for a foreign brand, saying it would be an Indian-made Godrej and nothing else. Ardeshir Godrej had become famous by finding a way to make soap out of vegetable oil instead of the animal tallow so offensive to many Hindus. His brother had expanded the company rapidly after Independence, branching to talcums and toiletries, large steel cupboards, and very recently, appliances. The fridge Paji had managed to procure was a prototype, not even available for general sale as yet. âI hope they had the sense to get at least the important parts from England,â Babuji remarked, as he peered skeptically into the freezer.
Hema went up and down the block, announcing to everyone that the fridge (the first one in the colony) had finally been delivered. Somewhat spitefully, she even told the stationmasterâs family next door that henceforth, they would be able to ask for ice at any time they wanted. At one point, fifteen neighbors (mostly children) were milling around in the living room, gawking at Hema playing with the compartments and trays and knobs. The crowd lost interest somewhat when they found out that the ice cubes Hema had promised might not be ready for several hours. One of them tried to climb the shelves to get at the freezer, at which point Babuji used an umbrella to swat them away.
By teatime, the radiogram had been delivered as well. The enormous cabinet housing the components was made of a fine-grained wood stained so dark it was almost black. Mataji declared the color inauspicious, and suggested painting it something more cheery, like red. Hema wanted to alert the neighbors again, but wasnât able to tear herself from the gramophone, on which she kept playing the same film record over and over again. She hadnât listened to it for two years, ever since the family gramophone had broken, she explained. Babuji seemed taken at first by the multiple shortwave channels of the radio and the glow of the tubes inside. Later, however, he complained to Arya that they could have repaired the gramophone, that the old radio had been just fine. âItâs mostly wood, this radiogramâwhy didnât we ask for more money instead?â
Me, they exhibited mostly in the bedroom. Each morning, Mataji selected the sari and jewelry set I was to wear that day, from the dowry chest I had brought with me. She was the one who orchestrated the viewings, making sure my gunghat was in position before the visitors entered, smiling proudly when they commented on the beauty of my ornaments (and, just
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