Wild Boar in the Cane Field by Anniqua Rana

Author:Anniqua Rana
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

Fading Colors

I chose my time to escape, picked up the tea tray with exaggerated caution, and took it to the kitchen, only to drop it into the cement dishwashing basin on the floor. The lid of the small teapot rolled off and shattered into three pieces.

Saffiya’s anger exploded through the rooms, reaching the kitchen in a futile attempt to further devastate me. “Break all my dishes, now. That’s all you’re worth.”

I slumped on the low stool, filled my fist with straw and ashes, and began washing the dishes. The running water from the faucet would drain the water tank and drown out Saffiya’s voice. The broken lid lay where it had fallen.

The streaming faucet splattered around me, dampening my clothes and my spirits. My choices were limited: I could stay and marry the nameless nephew, or I could leave the house, never to return. But where would I go? I had nowhere to turn.

Where did Taaj go when he left for days and sometimes months? When he returned, he was welcomed with a loving embrace and a hot meal. But he was a man, and he had a mother—two barriers I could never overcome.

I was like the beggar women leading isolated lives at the shrine, with no one to care for them. But at least they didn’t have anyone to answer to. Could I be like them? I had some money that I had saved—granted, not much—and I also had the gold earrings. The money would pay for the bus ticket to the shrine. I would keep the earrings for emergencies.

At the shrine, food would be free. I could sleep like the beggars and the dervish in the courtyard of the shrine. I would need a blanket and a pillow, which I would hide under the banyan tree in the courtyard.

I would let my hair grow into snakes around my head, and after a while, no one would be able to recognize me anymore. My life would be free of dishwashing and housecleaning. Would that life of freedom be better than what Saffiya and Bhaggan were planning for me?

I continued staring at the pieces as the kitchen screen door opened and Taaj crept in, followed by the maulvi. The maulvi walked toward me, but I chose not to look up from the dishes. He bent over and stroked my head, and I shut my eyes, absorbing his care.

“How is my daughter? Be careful with that broken pottery. It doesn’t take much for a scratch to inflame and become an abscess.”

I held back my tears, still not looking at him, but mumbled a response.

The maulvi then followed Taaj into Saffiya’s room. The sitting room was used only for larger events, like Eid celebrations, or for more formal discussions, like when the land tenants came to negotiate the rent with Bibi Saffiya. For a personal matter like this, Saffiya’s room would provide the required privacy.

The only time Saffiya’s room was off-limits for others was if the door was locked. Otherwise, she ate

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