Honor by Thrity Umrigar

Author:Thrity Umrigar [Thrity Umrigar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill
Published: 2022-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Two days after Abdul gifted me the mangoes, I packed a ladoo for him. I didn’t place it in our tiffin box. Instead, I wrapped it in newspaper and carried it separately. At lunchtime, I put the sweet in my pocket and walked to my usual spot under the tree. Radha was still sick, so I ate alone. I sat with my back to Abdul, but still my neck got hot as I felt his eyes on me. After I finished my lunch, I walked to where Abdul was sitting. He rose to his feet immediately. I placed the wrapped ladoo on the ground near his tree. “For your kindness,” I said to the tree trunk, my back to him. “The mangoes were very sweet.”

He replied, but the blood was rushing to my head and it drowned out his words. I walked quickly back into the factory. The old woman sitting at the machine next to me saw the sweat on my face. “Ae, chokri,” she said to me. “Are you taking sick?”

She did not know how correct she was. I was sick, but this was a sickness of the heart.

Every day after I gifted him the ladoo, Abdul and I began to find a way to talk without words. Sometimes, he would sing a love song while working that I knew was meant for my ears. Sometimes, I dropped a chocolate on the ground between our two trees on our way back from lunch. When Abdul returned to his seat, he would open the wrapper and pop the candy into his mouth, his eyes briefly meeting mine. And every evening, he would walk home behind me, remembering to stay a good distance away.

Then, one day as I finished using the outdoor latrine, he was waiting for me. He pretended to tie his shoelaces as I passed by. “I am working overtime next Sunday,” he whispered. “Maybe you can apply, too?”

I applied for the overtime shift the same day.

Only a few of us were working that Sunday, so the foreman shuttered half the room and made us crowd together in the other half. As we looked for a seat, Abdul took the spot at the machine next to mine. Nobody noticed but me.

At first, we were so excited to sit next to each other that we stole glances every few minutes. But then the work picked up, and we had to concentrate on our consignment. Sweat ran down our faces, but we couldn’t stop to wipe it off. For six hours I worked, my body stiff with heat and fear. My heart was singing like a transistor radio, and I was afraid that everyone there would hear it play Abdul’s name. But when I looked up, no one was watching. Everyone was busy meeting their quota.

I left work that evening with a small group of women, but one by one, they got off the main road and went toward their home village. When it was only me, I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

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