Mistress: A Novel by Anita Nair

Author:Anita Nair [Nair, Anita]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Kerala (India), Dancers, India, General, Literary, Triangles (Interpersonal Relations), Travel Writers, Fiction, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780312349479
Google: dxXUqcX6ihsC
Amazon: 0312349475
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2011-04-02T04:00:00+00:00

Uncle

Two days, and already it seems like Maya has been here a long time. Our lives have fallen into a routine in just forty-eight hours.

Maya is sitting on the veranda, reading a book. Her hair, freshly washed, hangs down the back of the chair. There are streaks of grey in the black. ‘Your hair is greying,’ I tell her.

She peers at me over her glasses. ‘I know. I keep thinking I should dye it.’

I see a flash of concern in her eyes.

‘Does it bother you? That I am not what I used to be?’

I laugh. ‘Don’t be silly. I am not what I used to be, either. We are all ageing. We can’t deny that.’

Malini squawks loudly. She is jealous. She begrudges the attention I give Maya. ‘Even Malini,’ I say. ‘But age can’t kill what we are, within. Look at her. After all these years you would think she would have calmed down, but she is still as demanding as ever, still as vicious, and so bloody possessive. Even though she knows that I am her slave, she resents your being here.’

I go to her cage and scratch her head. Malini closes her eyes in pleasure. ‘Silly girl,’ I murmur. ‘Koman loves you, don’t you know that?’

Maya shakes her head in disgust. ‘You spoil her, which is why she is the way she is. You should get a dog.’

‘I had one.’

‘What was it called?’

‘Ekalavyan,’ I say.

Maya stares at me. ‘What a strange name for a dog.’

‘When I came back from London, I decided that I wanted to have nothing more to do with anyone. My guru was dead. My brother Mani had disappeared. My father was ailing, and there was no one I could talk to. The dog attached himself to me. He was a puppy when he started lurking outside the classroom. Each morning he would be there, and he would stay till I finished. He would be back in the evening when I began the theory class. He played quietly by himself and seemed to want nothing from me. Some days he would sit there with his head on his paws, staring at the class as they did their exercises. One evening, on a whim, I whistled to him when I was going home. He put down the piece of cloth he was worrying and followed me. And never left my side after that.’

‘Is that why you called him Ekalavyan? For his steadfast devotion to you?’ Maya is amused.

‘Oh no,’ I protest. ‘I wouldn’t burden a dog with such a name. My students named him Ekalavyan. They were vexed with him, and me, I suppose. I would scream at them saying, “That dog has more sense than all of you put together. He never misses a lesson, never disobeys me, and he does all I ask him to. He has learnt more by watching me than you ever will.” It was their idea of revenge, I suppose, to name him after the ideal student from the Mahabharata.

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