The Prayer Room by Shanthi Sekaran

Author:Shanthi Sekaran [Sekaran, Shanthi]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: MP Publishing Limited
Published: 2010-01-27T05:00:00+00:00

The bathhouse was in the garden, a small adobe hut with a thatched roof and gaps at the top of the wall where a very tall person might spy on whoever was bathing. The triplets followed Shanta like a trail of ducks. From the balcony, an old woman stood and watched them, rubbing her belly and thumping her cane. “Come on, come inside,” Shanta said in English. Avi looked at Babygirl, Babygirl and Kieran looked at Avi.

“All of us?”

“Come, come in.”

The bathing hut was dark and humid. Along its wall ran a stone bench, and beneath their bare feet the marble was veined with mud trails. They could still hear the old woman’s cane, thump-thump-thumping to the beat of the dripping tap.

“Where’s the shower?”

Shanta turned a tap in the corner, and water thudded into a large tin pail. She gestured to them to remove their clothes.

“What?” Avi asked.

“She wants us to take our clothes off.”

“For real?”

“I think so.”

“Ha, yes,” Shanta coaxed. “Take the clothing off.” Because her voice was gentle, Kieran obeyed. Shirt off, shorts off, underwear off, he hung them from the hook on the door, then stood pale and soft in the shadows. Avi shrugged and whipped off his T-shirt and dropped it on the wet floor. Shorts off, underwear off, he looked thin and dark next to his brother. Now both boys were naked and holding their hands over their crotches, which made Shanta laugh when she saw.

Babygirl stood in the doorway, still fully clothed, watching the water gush into the pail. Behind her, the door opened and Kuttima came in. She carried a cauldron of steaming hot water, freshly boiled.

“Everyone is in here.” Babygirl murmured to her brothers.

“I know. It’s weird.”

“Neha,” Shanta called to Babygirl. She gestured to her to remove her clothes. Babygirl shook her head vigorously, waved her arms across her chest.

“No,” she said, “Uh-uh.”

“Just do it,” Avi urged, shifting from foot to foot. “It’s getting cold.”

Kieran looked sleepily at her. They were resigned to this, it seemed. “We won’t look, promise.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Stick a needle in my eye.”

Kuttima mixed the hot water into the cold and stirred it like a witch’s cauldron. And then, across the room came Shanta, impatient, with big hands to undo Babygirl’s buttons, to pull down her shirt, big hands dripping cold water.

“No!” she cried and ran out the door. She escaped. The boys heard her slippers slapping on the pavement, until they faded to silence. For a few minutes, the only sound in the yard was distant splashing and the trickle of water from a hole in the corner of the bathhouse.

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