The Vine of Desire by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

Author:Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni [Divakaruni, Chitra Banerjee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781400075812
Publisher: Anchor
Published: 2003-05-20T04:00:00+00:00

what I said

No more today. What, you want all my secrets at once? I need to save some of them for next time. Yeah, like in the Arabian Nights. It’s how we storytellers keep ourselves alive.

Seventeen

Sudha

Sunday morning drags itself heavily over us. The air rumbles like indigestion. All the sunshine that had lighted our little apartment with laughter yesterday has leached away, leaving behind walls colored like mustard stains.

Last night, when I came in, Sunil was impeccable in his courtesy. I hope you had a good time, he said, opening the door. He took my jacket from me and hung it up. There was enough fury in his fingertips to scorch the fabric.

Anju asked a hundred cheery questions. Where did you go, what did you eat, what did you talk about, was it fun, do you like him, what else did you talk about, do you think he likes you, how come you’re so late, when will you see him again. From behind the newspaper, he said, “Why are you so excited? Anyone would think he’s your boyfriend.”

The word clattered to the floor of the living room. She narrowed her eyes the way one does when driving on a too-bright day, trying to recognize that shape up ahead, past the glare. “Why are you so upset?”

I could hear the unsaid words. Anyone would think she’s your girlfriend. She went into the bedroom and slammed the door.

I excused myself, saying I was tired. But Dayita wouldn’t come with me. She held on to Sunil’s pant leg and screamed.

“Stop that right now!” I shouted. When I pulled at her arm, it was hot.

“She’s teething,” he said. “Her lower jaw is swollen on the right side.”

I felt terrible. I should have noticed it right away. I got the Anbesol from the bathroom. When I tried to rub some on Dayita’s gums, she bit me, hard.

Sunil rubbed her gums with the ointment. He gave her some Baby Tylenol and wiped her face with a clean, wet towel. He kissed her on the top of her head and said, “Be my good girl and go with your mom, and tomorrow I’ll tell you the story of the monkey and the crocodile.” He put his hands together and made snapping motions like a crocodile’s jaws until she laughed.

But she was still angry with me. In bed she lay on the edge. She kicked away my arm even after I sang Ghum Parani Mashi Pishi, which is her favorite nighttime song. Only after she fell asleep could I pull her close. I rubbed the nubs of her shoulders, her elbows smooth as pebbles from a river. Her damp neck tasted of salt and lint.

What an end to my day with Lalit! He’d surprised me with that story. The hidden canyons under his laughter. I liked him more for it. But already, our day together, bright as the rainbow streaks on bubbles, was fading. I couldn’t connect it to my real life. This flat that smelled of stale garam masala.

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