The Secrets Between Us by Thrity Umrigar

Author:Thrity Umrigar
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-06-25T16:00:00+00:00

The trouble comes a week later. Bhima has just completed a sale when she hears it—the roar of the mob, followed by shattering of glass. She looks across the street and blinks. Where did they all come from, this group of men and women who are pelting the mall with rocks, prying at the marble with their hands? She knows at once that this is the anticipated protest by the fish vendors. On her side of the street, people have stopped to stare at the protesters, their mouths agape. For a few minutes the tableaux remains the same—the rioters working at demonic speed to destroy the mall and the bystanders across the street standing motionless, transfixed. And then a new sound enters, the ominous wails of police sirens as the Jeeps arrive and dozens of policemen descend upon the fishmongers. From across the street Bhima can hear the whisk-whisk of the policemen’s bamboo lathis as they shiver in the air for a second before landing indiscriminately on the heads and limbs of the rioters. Like rats chased out of their nests, the vendors run helter-skelter away from the lathis and across the street, running toward the vegetable and fruit market. The police follow, and now there is no getting away. Bhima watches as a policeman trips over a stack of limes. Furious, the man spins around and indiscriminately beats the vendor who is in a crouch. Bhima cries out as blood spouts from the man’s head, watches as the policeman kicks him before turning his baton on someone else. She herself is only a few feet away from it all, but Vishnu’s shop and the adjacent wall act as a kind of protection, and she hugs against the wall, as if to render herself invisible. But the next second she remembers that Parvati is out there, sitting miserably under her tarp, Parvati, old, frail but tenacious, not one to back away from a fight. “Auntie, get in here,” Vishnu screams, holding out his hand at the entrance of his shop, but instead of grabbing his hand, she turns around and runs into the street toward her old spot. People are rushing by her, screaming, and the sound they make is like the high-pitched whistle of the wind during a storm. But still she runs the other way, and then she sees her—Parvati, standing in the middle of the melee, with her hands on her hips, leaning forward just a little bit, as if she is about to lecture someone. Parvati, the only still point in a turbulent sea, and despite the danger, despite the chaos, Bhima notices the expression on Parvati’s face. It is bemusement. And the absolute absence of fear. And maybe it is the anger that Bhima feels at such arrogance that makes her grab the older woman’s hand more roughly than she should and give it a yank. “Come,” she yells, and Parvati follows, without struggle or protest, matching her pace with Bhima’s, and Bhima has the strangest feeling that Parvati was simply waiting for her to come find her.

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