Read Online The Weight of Heaven by Thrity Umrigar - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Thrity Umrigar
Tags: Fiction, General, Bereavement, Family & Relationships, Americans, Psychological, Psychological fiction, Crime, Death; Grief; Bereavement, Family Life, Murder, Adoption, Married People, India, Americans - India
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special tips?”
Shashi had turned toward him, the usual smile on his lips. “What
do you mean, special tips?”
“Well, you know. You’ve run a successful hotel around here for
many years. You must have some insight into the minds of the workers. What makes them tick, that kind of thing.”
“What makes them tick is—good pay and good working conditions. Same as workers all over the world.” Shashi laughed. It was
impossible to know if he had just mocked Frank or mocked the
entire labor class.
Frank’s jaw tightened. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, and then
the women had taken over, filling the strained silence with their
patter until the mood at the table lightened again.
The doorbell rang, and Ellie skipped toward the kitchen door.
“Oh, God, how I’ve missed you,” she cried when she saw Nandita,
flinging her arms around her.
“Wow.” Nandita grinned as she stepped in. “That’s a nice welcome.”
Ellie had already put the kettle on, and now she poured them
each a cup of tea as the two women sat at the kitchen table. “Hmm,”
Nandita sighed. “You’ve certainly learned how to make a great cup
of chai , El.”
Ellie made a face. “Well, we’ve only been in the country, what,
sixteen months. At least I have something to show for it.”
Nandita tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n
5 1
“Nothing.” She took a sip of tea. “Edna says they’re now saying
that Anand was a terrorist,” she blurted out.
Nandita gave a short laugh. “Yah, this is the new India. Every
two-bit criminal is now accused of being a terrorist—not that that
poor kid was even a criminal,” she added.
“This is not the India I’d imagined when I urged Frank to take
this job, I’ll tell you that,” Ellie said. She could hear the bitterness
in her own voice.
Nandita’s tone was bemused. “What did you imagine? Cows on
the streets and a guru and a snake charmer at every corner?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Ellie said. But the fact was, she had not
thought much about it at all. What she had pictured was simply a
country that would be the backdrop, the wallpaper before which she
and Frank would enact their family drama of estrangement, healing,
and reconciliation. She had certainly not imagined a teeming, heaving country that would become a player in their domestic drama.
India, she now knew, would not be content staying in the background, was nobody’s wallpaper, insisted on interjecting itself into
everyone’s life, meddling with it, twisting it, molding it beyond recognition. India, she had found out, was a place of political intrigue
and economic corruption, a place occupied by real people with their
incessantly human needs, desires, ambitions, and aspirations, and
not the exotic, spiritual, mysterious entity that was a creation of the
Western imagination.
“How was work at the clinic today?” Ellie asked, but before
Nandita could reply, “I’m so tired of being stuck at home. I want to
start work at NIRAL again.”
“You should,” Nandita said. “I mean, I don’t think the situation
is dangerous or anything. You may get a few dirty looks, but that’s
about it. I tell you, El, that’s what impresses me the most about
the poor—the amazing restraint that they show. Others call it fatalism, but I’ve worked among them for years now and I tell you,
5 2 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
it’s nothing as weak as fatalism. In fact, it’s—it’s fortitude. A kind
of dignity. How much shit these people take from”—Nandita waved
her hands to include the opulent surroundings they sat in—“from
people like us. And still they don’t fight back.” She shook her head
and managed a wan smile. “All right. Enough of my lecture giri , as
Shashi would say.”
Nandita is the only person in my life who says what I think,
Ellie thought. The old Frank, the man she had fallen in love with,
would’ve understood and felt the same
Shashi had turned toward him, the usual smile on his lips. “What
do you mean, special tips?”
“Well, you know. You’ve run a successful hotel around here for
many years. You must have some insight into the minds of the workers. What makes them tick, that kind of thing.”
“What makes them tick is—good pay and good working conditions. Same as workers all over the world.” Shashi laughed. It was
impossible to know if he had just mocked Frank or mocked the
entire labor class.
Frank’s jaw tightened. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, and then
the women had taken over, filling the strained silence with their
patter until the mood at the table lightened again.
The doorbell rang, and Ellie skipped toward the kitchen door.
“Oh, God, how I’ve missed you,” she cried when she saw Nandita,
flinging her arms around her.
“Wow.” Nandita grinned as she stepped in. “That’s a nice welcome.”
Ellie had already put the kettle on, and now she poured them
each a cup of tea as the two women sat at the kitchen table. “Hmm,”
Nandita sighed. “You’ve certainly learned how to make a great cup
of chai , El.”
Ellie made a face. “Well, we’ve only been in the country, what,
sixteen months. At least I have something to show for it.”
Nandita tilted her head. “What’s wrong?”
Th e We i g h t o f H e av e n
5 1
“Nothing.” She took a sip of tea. “Edna says they’re now saying
that Anand was a terrorist,” she blurted out.
Nandita gave a short laugh. “Yah, this is the new India. Every
two-bit criminal is now accused of being a terrorist—not that that
poor kid was even a criminal,” she added.
“This is not the India I’d imagined when I urged Frank to take
this job, I’ll tell you that,” Ellie said. She could hear the bitterness
in her own voice.
Nandita’s tone was bemused. “What did you imagine? Cows on
the streets and a guru and a snake charmer at every corner?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Ellie said. But the fact was, she had not
thought much about it at all. What she had pictured was simply a
country that would be the backdrop, the wallpaper before which she
and Frank would enact their family drama of estrangement, healing,
and reconciliation. She had certainly not imagined a teeming, heaving country that would become a player in their domestic drama.
India, she now knew, would not be content staying in the background, was nobody’s wallpaper, insisted on interjecting itself into
everyone’s life, meddling with it, twisting it, molding it beyond recognition. India, she had found out, was a place of political intrigue
and economic corruption, a place occupied by real people with their
incessantly human needs, desires, ambitions, and aspirations, and
not the exotic, spiritual, mysterious entity that was a creation of the
Western imagination.
“How was work at the clinic today?” Ellie asked, but before
Nandita could reply, “I’m so tired of being stuck at home. I want to
start work at NIRAL again.”
“You should,” Nandita said. “I mean, I don’t think the situation
is dangerous or anything. You may get a few dirty looks, but that’s
about it. I tell you, El, that’s what impresses me the most about
the poor—the amazing restraint that they show. Others call it fatalism, but I’ve worked among them for years now and I tell you,
5 2 Th r i t y U m r i g a r
it’s nothing as weak as fatalism. In fact, it’s—it’s fortitude. A kind
of dignity. How much shit these people take from”—Nandita waved
her hands to include the opulent surroundings they sat in—“from
people like us. And still they don’t fight back.” She shook her head
and managed a wan smile. “All right. Enough of my lecture giri , as
Shashi would say.”
Nandita is the only person in my life who says what I think,
Ellie thought. The old Frank, the man she had fallen in love with,
would’ve understood and felt the same
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