The Age of Shiva by Manil Suri

Author:Manil Suri
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: W. W. Norton & Company
Published: 2007-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

IN THE MORNING, you had a fever. “It’s probably the cut, all infected,” I raged. “God knows from where you hunted down that barber. Are you satisfied now, or do you have some other family ceremony you would like to inflict?”

Dev said nothing. He got a fistful of salt from the kitchen and passed it around your body in a circle. “To draw out the evil eye, in case someone’s put a curse.” In the afternoon, just as I prepared to let my hysteria burst forth, the fever abruptly subsided. “See?” Dev said. “It wasn’t an infection after all.”

You did not smile or laugh even though your temperature was back to normal. Every morning, when you saw yourself in the mirror, you began to cry. You turned to me with the tears wet on your cheeks and only quieted down after I had captured them all with my mouth.

I did not forgive Dev. Even with the cut on your head almost healed, I kept asking for the Listerine to make him feel guilty. On the third day, I asked if he would mind sleeping on the sofa. “I’d like to keep Ashvin next to me until he’s fully recovered. We can sleep outside the kitchen, though—I don’t want to force you out of the bed.”

“Why not put Munna in the middle so that we can all fit in?” We’d always had two single beds pushed together, so there would certainly be enough room to follow Dev’s suggestion.

“He’s become so sensitive after what’s been done to him. It’s not just your snoring that would keep him awake but also your alcoholic breath.”

I could tell I scored a hit by the way he blinked back the hurt. He left the bedroom without complaint that night, pretending to be unaware of my intention to punish him. The next morning, though, he told me I was exaggerating the seriousness of things. “Munna’s a lot more resilient than you think. It’s you who’s making him depressed.” To prove his point, he asked me to watch as you laughed and played with him on the sofa. The minute I entered, your forehead wrinkled up and a troubled expression came over your face.

“See?” Dev said. “Besides, if you look, you’ll notice his hair is already reemerging.” I didn’t give him the satisfaction, but turned away in silence.

That evening, I checked your scalp for myself. It was true what Dev said—I could see the follicles dotting your head. I ran a silk dupatta over it, and a chuckle burbled up from your throat when it caught. I scraped my fingers over the nubs and this made you laugh. Even more, you liked the feel of the tufts on your palms—you kept brushing your hands over your scalp as if sweeping things off.

In the days to come, the hair slowly lengthened and covered the egginess of your head. It grew out straight, however, the curls forever gone.

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