The Temple Is Not My Father: A Story Set in India by Atreya Rasana

Author:Atreya, Rasana [Atreya, Rasana]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
Published: 2014-07-10T16:00:00+00:00

Part II

Godavari lay on the cot, staring at the gate. The very gate from which her heart had been ripped. If her attention strayed, would her memories disappear, much like the scent of her baby? She touched the dress to her face again, breathing in deeply. Nothing. And it had been a mere two weeks. Or was it a month?

The gate rattled.

What if it were the Lady of Hope, Asha garu, here to take away more hope? Godavari had stopped accepting phone calls. It was enough to know that her baby was safe. She had no desire for details, no desire to know more about her beloved daughter’s bond with her new mother. She’d rather pour cleaning acid on an open wound.

The gate rattled again.

She turned over on the cot.

The gate rattled louder. Then the pounding began.

Sighing, she forced herself to stand up and put a foot forward. Snatching it back, she carefully put the other foot down – the traditionally auspicious foot, the right one. Why risk bad karma for her daughter? She limped to the gate, trying to restore circulation to her legs.

It was her father.

She slumped against the wall. “There’s nothing for you here,” she said in an unemotional voice. “My baby’s gone.”

“Let me come in, at least.”

“You heard her,” a harsh voice said.

Her sister. Godavari closed her eyes in relief.

“Leave!” Krishna ordered their father, and slammed the gate shut. Then she gently drew Godavari into her arms. For a few minutes Godavari burrowed in her beloved sister’s arms. Then she broke down, crying in shuddering breaths.

“What have you done to yourself?” Krishna scolded. “Look at you – unwashed hair, bones sticking out of your sari. When was the last time you ate?”

She led Godavari to the cot under the guava tree and helped her onto it. She dug a banana from the cloth bag hanging from her shoulder and put it in Godavari’s hand.

Godavari shook her head, whimpering in distress.

Krishna peeled the banana. “Eat.”

Not having the energy to argue, Godavari did. After she had eaten, Krishna helped her to the bathroom. “Take a bath. I’ll get you fresh clothes. Then I’ll cook you food.”

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“Feeling better?” Krishna asked.

Physically, yes. Emotionally, she wasn’t sure she ever would. But her sister expected an answer, so she nodded.

“You’ve not been answering the phone.”

Godavari shrugged.

“You know how hard it is for me with my son?” Krishna asked.

Godavari nodded. Krishna’s son was born without limbs but she loved him fiercely and had devoted her life to the child. “If I let myself become negative, what would happen to him?”

“You, at least, have a child to hold.”

“You, at least, have a child with limbs. A healthy, whole child who will be able to survive on her own even when you’re gone.”

Godavari was instantly ashamed. If anyone had a hard life, it was her sister. And she had still found a way to come and support Godavari in her time of need. She hugged Krishna, whispering, “That was so selfish of me. Please forgive me.

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