Read Online The Girl in the Garden by Kamala Nair - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kamala Nair
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a floor caked with dust. It reeked of sweat.
“No, no, no,” came Vijay Uncle’s chiding voice, “That is Dev’s room. He won’t like you poking around.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Dev lives here?”
“Yes,” said Vijay Uncle, in a voice that was uncharacteristically clipped. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now come along.”
He led me into another room with a heavy medicinal smell that momentarily left me breathless. The room resembled a shed, with wooden planks serving as makeshift walls. Pale sunlight streamed in through the cracks, mingling with the wisps of smoke that swirled around in curlicues. Shirtless men were standing over giant vats and poised above stacks of burning logs, stirring the contents of the vats with oarlike poles.
“This room is where we make all the medicine,” Vijay Uncle explained. Then, as if he had read my thoughts, he added, “This is an Ayurvedic hospital, Rakhee. Do you know what Ayurveda is?”
I shook my head and he took a deep breath, shifting into the formal tone of a schoolteacher.
“Ayurveda is an ancient medical practice that originated in India over two thousand years ago and relies on herbal treatments. Unlike modern medicine, where the immediate cure for a headache is to have a pill, Ayurveda approaches it differently. We believe in prevention more than in the cure.”
I nodded and wondered what Aba would think about Ayurveda.
Vijay Uncle showed me all over the hospital—from the assembly line where women in saris and white coats bottled the medicines, to the little thatch-roofed huts behind the main building where special massages and steam baths were administered.
“Ah, there you are,” said Nalini Aunty, poking her head in. “Rakhee, why don’t you come with me to see Valsala and her baby—they are our neighbors. Valsala is Veena Aunty’s younger sister.”
“Good. I must actually talk to Dev about some business, now that I think of it,” said Vijay Uncle.
Nalini Aunty, Balu, and I entered a long dark hallway lined on either side with closed doors.
The birthing room was dim and stuffy. and the stifling odor of blood and sweat wafted through the air. Veena Aunty’s sister was wearing a housedress with frills around the neck. She was lying on her side atop a low cot, covered in a blanket, with a little bundle nestled into the curve of her body.
“Hello,” she said in a weak voice.
“Valsala, so a girl, eh? Some of us are not so lucky in these matters, but cheer up, perhaps God will bless you with a son the next time,” said Nalini Aunty, making herselfcomfortable in a chair in the corner of the room. “And how are you feeling?”
Valsala, who seemed impervious to Nalini Aunty’s cutting remark, responded in Malayalam, and they spoke back and forth rapidly. Her face looked wan and her hair puffed out in a dry halo around her head. The bundle at her side remained still. I began to feel nauseous.
“I almost forgot,” said Nalini Aunty after a while, recalling my presence, “This is my husband’s niece Rakhee—Chitra’s daughter.” She said my mother’s name as if she was describing an especially unpleasant insect.
“Oh, Chitra’s daughter,” Valsala said, eyeing me with interest. “Pleased to meet you.”
Balu began to bawl.
Nalini Aunty grunted. “Let me take him outside so he does not disturb the baby. I’ll be back in a moment—wait here,” she instructed me.
I stood near the doorway, uncertain. My knees felt shaky, as if I might collapse like Balu onto the floor, but there would be nobody around to pick me up.
“Would you like to see the baby, Rakhee?” Valsala was saying. She sat up in bed, gathered up the bundle, and held it out toward me. The baby made a noise, not unlike the sound the baby goats made in the mornings while their mothers were being milked. I stumbled forward through the hot musk toward the bed. “It’s a girl—her name is Parvathi.”
I peered down into Parvathi’s face—it was wrinkled and
“No, no, no,” came Vijay Uncle’s chiding voice, “That is Dev’s room. He won’t like you poking around.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Dev lives here?”
“Yes,” said Vijay Uncle, in a voice that was uncharacteristically clipped. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Now come along.”
He led me into another room with a heavy medicinal smell that momentarily left me breathless. The room resembled a shed, with wooden planks serving as makeshift walls. Pale sunlight streamed in through the cracks, mingling with the wisps of smoke that swirled around in curlicues. Shirtless men were standing over giant vats and poised above stacks of burning logs, stirring the contents of the vats with oarlike poles.
“This room is where we make all the medicine,” Vijay Uncle explained. Then, as if he had read my thoughts, he added, “This is an Ayurvedic hospital, Rakhee. Do you know what Ayurveda is?”
I shook my head and he took a deep breath, shifting into the formal tone of a schoolteacher.
“Ayurveda is an ancient medical practice that originated in India over two thousand years ago and relies on herbal treatments. Unlike modern medicine, where the immediate cure for a headache is to have a pill, Ayurveda approaches it differently. We believe in prevention more than in the cure.”
I nodded and wondered what Aba would think about Ayurveda.
Vijay Uncle showed me all over the hospital—from the assembly line where women in saris and white coats bottled the medicines, to the little thatch-roofed huts behind the main building where special massages and steam baths were administered.
“Ah, there you are,” said Nalini Aunty, poking her head in. “Rakhee, why don’t you come with me to see Valsala and her baby—they are our neighbors. Valsala is Veena Aunty’s younger sister.”
“Good. I must actually talk to Dev about some business, now that I think of it,” said Vijay Uncle.
Nalini Aunty, Balu, and I entered a long dark hallway lined on either side with closed doors.
The birthing room was dim and stuffy. and the stifling odor of blood and sweat wafted through the air. Veena Aunty’s sister was wearing a housedress with frills around the neck. She was lying on her side atop a low cot, covered in a blanket, with a little bundle nestled into the curve of her body.
“Hello,” she said in a weak voice.
“Valsala, so a girl, eh? Some of us are not so lucky in these matters, but cheer up, perhaps God will bless you with a son the next time,” said Nalini Aunty, making herselfcomfortable in a chair in the corner of the room. “And how are you feeling?”
Valsala, who seemed impervious to Nalini Aunty’s cutting remark, responded in Malayalam, and they spoke back and forth rapidly. Her face looked wan and her hair puffed out in a dry halo around her head. The bundle at her side remained still. I began to feel nauseous.
“I almost forgot,” said Nalini Aunty after a while, recalling my presence, “This is my husband’s niece Rakhee—Chitra’s daughter.” She said my mother’s name as if she was describing an especially unpleasant insect.
“Oh, Chitra’s daughter,” Valsala said, eyeing me with interest. “Pleased to meet you.”
Balu began to bawl.
Nalini Aunty grunted. “Let me take him outside so he does not disturb the baby. I’ll be back in a moment—wait here,” she instructed me.
I stood near the doorway, uncertain. My knees felt shaky, as if I might collapse like Balu onto the floor, but there would be nobody around to pick me up.
“Would you like to see the baby, Rakhee?” Valsala was saying. She sat up in bed, gathered up the bundle, and held it out toward me. The baby made a noise, not unlike the sound the baby goats made in the mornings while their mothers were being milked. I stumbled forward through the hot musk toward the bed. “It’s a girl—her name is Parvathi.”
I peered down into Parvathi’s face—it was wrinkled and
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