Under the Pipal Tree by Anjana Chowdhury

Author:Anjana Chowdhury
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cinnamon Press
Published: 2017-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20 — Maria

Nepal, 1966

The road to Indira and Roy’s bungalow was uphill all the way. Their little house was perched precariously at the end of a cliff. On windy days Maria was afraid the cottage would be blown away. They were guarded on all sides by snow-covered mountains, rising up to heaven. The stiff peaks reminded her of beaten egg whites. At night the twinkling lights of Kathmandu sparkled down below, a busy city full of people, cows, carts and honking cars. She had been there once or twice with Indira to buy baby clothes. Planning for the newborn’s arrival kept dark thoughts at bay. If she was a man or did not have a child coming, she would climb right to the top of a mountain and find a quiet spot to meditate; renouncing the world at a click of her fingers.

Maria paused to catch her breath at the elbow of a winding dirt track road. She found the daily journey to and from the market increasingly difficult. It would not be long now. She had insisted Indira not keep a maid except for the village girl who came to clean the house. The less people knew of their circumstances the better.

Just today, the paan shopwallah had asked her, where is your husband? He must have noticed a lack of vermilion on her forehead. What business it was of his, she did not know. She was a widow, she replied. He was in the army, killed in border battles in Kashmir. He nodded in sympathy. So many lives were lost in the fauj. No wonder the young did not want to join the army. They agreed it was a problem.

‘How many Nepalese gurkhas had died in the British-Indian army, sister?’ he asked. ‘So many mothers without sons, so many widows,’ he lamented.

Maria’s feet were growing numb from standing so long in front of his shop. She asked politely if he had Roy sahib’s brand of cigarettes. She could barely hang on to her heavy shopping bag and dreaded the long walk back. Indira wanted to come but Maria would not let her. She would gladly do these little favours for her friend, as long as she lived, in exchange for a home for her child.

Towards the end she was housebound. The baby was a week overdue. Roy checked her blood pressure and it was high. Still, she would not see a doctor. A bed had been reserved for her at Bir Hospital. Early one morning Maria felt a dull pain in her back. It would not go away after an hour or two of twisting and turning in her bed. The flushed eastern sky at dawn had turned into a golden morning. The water broke and she called out to Indira, ‘Sister, it’s time!’

Throughout the long labour lasting eighteen hours, Maria said no to drugs. She gripped a cotton cord tied to the foot of the bed, pulling it hard each time the contractions came. Not once did she scream.

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