One Hundred Shades of White. Preethi Nair

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СКАЧАТЬ of one of the cooks,’ Gobi replied.

      I opened my eyes and there he was. Deep almond eyes looking down at me, full, defined lips, jet-black hair, very tall and sturdy. ‘Get her some water,’ the man said to Gobi.

      He touched my forehead which pulsated and took hold of my hand. It fell into his voluntarily.

      ‘Will she be okay, Raul?’ Gobi asked, as he handed him the glass.

      ‘Heat,’ he replied, as he put the glass to my lips and poured the water gently into my mouth.

      All of a sudden there was a shout. ‘Monu, Monu, what’s happening? What are you doing? Why are you giving the servant girl something to drink and in one of our best glasses, we won’t be able to use that again.’ Raul stared at his mother who had just walked in. He ignored her, turned to me and said, ‘Nalini, drink.’

      ‘They are silly girls, no sense, walk in the full sun, what do you expect and then, then they land up here and give us problems,’ Thampurati continued.

      ‘I feel better,’ I whispered, getting up uneasily. ‘I have to go home.’ There was a pause and he, Raul said, ‘I will take you.’

      Another loud shrill broke the silence. ‘But, Monu, you can’t be seen out walking with a servant girl. Tell him, Gobi.’

      At first Gobi said nothing and then his mother glared at him. Gobi suggested that perhaps the maid take me home.

      Raul got up, took my arm, and walked with me past his mother. As we walked together across the fields, he held up an umbrella to protect me from the sun. The workers in the fields stared at us, women turned their heads, shyly pretending not to notice him when he passed. We said nothing to each other, the silence between us said more than was necessary. Some of the older women, like Kochuammayi, stood with their mouths open. She had a mouth like a buffalo and I was sure that after her work was done she would run to tell her husband in the toddi shop. ‘Come home, I have something important to tell you,’ she would shout, attempting to entice him away from his drink, but he would ignore her. She would then run over to the temple and sit outside on the bench and add a little more to the story, sharing it to those who were ready to listen.

      I didn’t want Raul to see where we lived, because just for those moments, I wasn’t the cook’s daughter, I was somebody important, somebody who he wanted to be with. Almost sensing this, he stopped at the tree on the path that led to our dwelling and said with certainty, ‘I have to go but will come back to visit for Onam.’ I wanted to say, ‘Wait, there are so many things I haven’t told you.’ But I could not say or do anything.

      My head was full of so many ideas as I opened the front door. ‘Ma, I have found him. It’s him,’ I wanted to scream.

      ‘What took you so long?’ asked my mother.

      ‘Nothing,’ I replied.

      Nine weeks. Nine weeks until Onam and then I could see him again. Every detail of that afternoon was etched on my mind and played over and over again; the way he smelt, the strength of his hands, the confidence in his stride, the tenderness in his eyes. My mother rushed back in, interrupting my thoughts. ‘Nali, you didn’t tell me you fainted and Raul Kathi brought you home.’

      ‘It wasn’t important, Ma.’

      The month of Shravan seemed to take forever to arrive. Onam was the biggest festival of the year where every household celebrated the harvest just after the end of the rainy season. The main celebration was held on the tenth day at the patron’s house and they would invite all their employees and give food and gifts to them as a way of saying thank you. This was the busiest time for my mother and I and preparations began many months in advance.

      Before the rains began, we collected banana leaves to serve the food upon, we prepared dried palm leaves and saved empty coconut shells to burn as fuel, and jackfruit was preserved to be used for payasam. We pickled tender mango, ‘to let dreams ferment for an abundant harvest,’ my mother said, as she packed the finished bottles away in anticipation. In this period, we also cooked and served food to all our neighbours who were helping each other build new roofs with sugar cane leaves in time for the monsoon. Then the rains fell hard and people prayed for an abundant harvest and the whole village waited to celebrate Onam.

      As we collected and washed the food for the feast, my mother would tell me again and again its significance. ‘It’s to welcome the spirit of King Mahabali.’

      ‘I won’t forget, Ma,’ I reassured her as she began again. ‘The Asura King was worried that the kind, wise king Mahabali was becoming too powerful, so he enlisted the help of Vishnu to curb Mahabali’s power. Vishnu disguised himself and took the form of a dwarf called Vamana and went begging to the king. The kind king asked him what he wanted and Vamana asked for three steps of land where he could sit and pray and the king agreed. Soon the dwarf expanded and became a giant. His first step covered the sky, the second step covered the heavens, and the third was about to engulf the earth when Mahabali offered his head as the last step so the earth wouldn’t be crushed. The Gods were pacified by his sacrifice and his spirit was allowed to return once a year to visit his kingdom and celebrate with his people.’

      ‘Sacrifice is important, Mol,’ she concluded. ‘Spirit will live forever.’

      The evening before Onam, every veranda was decorated with intricate patterns of flower petals and in the centre was a four-sided pyramid of Mahabali. I went to collect the final petals to finish off and as I looked beneath my tree, I saw a package: somebody had left a parcel with my name on it. I tore off the wrapping and inside was a bright blue hand-embroidered sari which would have taken us three years to buy. I looked inside again but there was no note. Raul, I thought, he has bought this for me, he is back.

      I went back home and begged my mother if I could serve instead of staying behind in the kitchen. ‘You don’t know the order of food,’ she said. ‘Not this year, Mol, next year, then I will have plenty of time to teach you.’

      ‘Please, Ma,’ I begged, ‘this year, tell me now.’

      She relented and the two of us sat up late as she took out a banana leaf and explained how to serve on it. ‘The narrow part of the leaf must always be on the left, serving begins at the bottom left corner, and first you place a small banana, next to this come the banana chips coated with jaggery, then popadom. From the top left hand of the leaf, mango pickle, injipuli, thoran, olan, khichidi, aviyal. Only after this is placed can the guest begin eating. Wait for them to begin and then at the bottom centre you serve the rice, then pour the sambar on top of the rice. When they have finished, serve the payasam and after dessert, pour the rasam into their cupped hands and then wait, wait to see if they would like more.’

      She went over it three or four times until I felt completely sure. Then we fell asleep.

      The next morning I woke up very early and headed for the lake to bathe. Frogs were dancing on the lotus leaves, croaking loudly as I washed my hair, scrubbing it with chickpea flour so it shone. Running coconut oil through it, I tied it up with a fresh garland and unwrapped the sari. I would tell Ma it was a gift from the Kathis for all our help, that I had taken it back to Thampurati, insisting I was not worthy of such a gift, but she would not accept it back and asked not to mention it again for that would embarrass her further. I began to get dressed and let all the confidence and power I had seep into every tuck and fold of my new outfit and then I headed towards the Kathi’s house so I could serve.

      Stepping into their courtyard, my glass bangles jangled and people turned around to stare. They stopped СКАЧАТЬ