The Catherine Lim Collection (60 page)

“Now look here,” said Dora belligerently.
“Do you see these slashes on my wrists? Would a woman who has never suffered
try to kill herself?”

“Show your slashed wrists to the
Scorpion-Receiver who had had both arms hacked off, or the one doused with
petrol and set on fire by her husband because her dowry was insufficient, or
the one called ‘The Horizontal Woman’ because she was precisely that, servicing
30 men a day,” said Fordora savagely.

“All right, all right,” said Dora
pacifically. “Guardian Angels are rather given to melodrama, aren’t they? But
why don’t you let me present myself to the Scorpion-Receivers and argue my own
case? I have fought so hard on behalf of women that I’m sure they’ll view my
case sympathetically,” she concluded.

“All right, as you wish and good luck to
you,” said Fordora.

Dora Warren presented herself for admission
to S-Station.

“You with the well-fed rump, tell me how you
qualify to be one of us,” snarled Rani, whose bruised and battered body had
been found crushed on the railway tracks.

“Gently, gently, please, and no vulgar
language,” said her Guardian Angel, Forrani.

“You said you suffered. Have you any
evidence of that?” jeered Amina who had been infibulated three times for her
husband’s bursting pleasure and had died of an infection after the third
infibulation, “You want to see my evidence – ”

“No need to go that far, please,” said her
Guardian Angel, Foramina, making a quick movement towards her to prevent the
ready removal of her bead girdle, which she was always threatening upon
disbelievers.

“All of you should see my evidence,” cried
the winner of the top prize who sometimes descended from the heights to show
off punctured eye, hacked off limbs, rat-chewed fingers.

“For goodness’ sake – ” cried her Guardian
Angel, Forletchmy, rushing forward to restrain her. He let out a deep sigh of
weary resignation, in which he was joined by the other Guardian Angels. At
their earliest opportunity, they would ask to be relieved of their present jobs
and be assigned new duties.

“Wait a minute, this isn’t fair,” cried Dora
Warren.

“Just because I haven’t been bruised or
burnt or battered does not mean I haven’t suffered. There are hundreds,
thousands of women who never received a lash or a kick in their lives but who
suffered terribly. There was Charlotte Brontë for example. Her letters quivered
with pain. And let me tell you this about myself, sisters. Nobody’s done as
much or suffered as much, fighting for the betterment of woman’s lot!”

“What have you done to better woman’s lot?
Pray, tell us,” sneered the Scorpion-Receivers.

“For a start, I demythologised this whole
sickening thing about Penis Envy that had kept us in thrall for decades. I
developed my own Phallacy theory to counter the falsehood!”

“Did your Phallacy Theory stop the men from
raping us again and again?” This from the bondmaid ‘Female’, raped by three
generations of men and dead from a messed up abortion.

“I made women aware, for the first time, of
the insidiousness of men’s language. I inspired them to rise to a new sense of
their dignity and identity as women!”

“Did you? Did woman’s new sense of dignity
and identity save her from being sold into prostitution by her own parents?”
from the little Thai girl, sold as a ‘Virgin Prostitute’ in a Bangkok hotel to
cater to aging libidos.

“Oh, but listen! I forced men to stop using
only female names for hurricanes, typhoons and other horrid natural disasters
and to use male names too. That compelled them to make an amazing paradigm
shift, I can tell you!”

“Did your paradigm shift stop fathers from
cursing at newborn baby girls so that their frightened mothers would no longer
have to kill them at birth or throw them into dustbins?” cried a small, unnamed
baby girl still with the strangling rag round her neck, while her Guardian
Angel, Fornoname, said soothingly, “There, there, it’s all right. No need to
get so upset!”

“Oh, please listen — ” begged Dora, but
there arose such a cacophony of hisses, shrieks, yells and curses that she
retreated hastily and went running, in tears, to her Guardian Angel.

“I told you,” he said wearily, “but you
wouldn’t listen.”

“I suppose I’ll have to be contented with
E-Station. Dammit! I had hoped that having gone through so much on Earth, I
would deserve more in Heaven!”

“Hey, look who’s here!” said Fordora and he
turned, with pleasure, to greet a fellow Guardian Angel whom he had not seen
for a long time.

“Hello, Forcharlotte!” cried Fordora
heartily. “And what brings you here?”

“Your charge,” said Forcharlotte, “My charge
wants to speak to her. See here she comes!” A small prim-looking woman with a
severe face and equally severe hairstyle appeared.

“Charlotte Brontë!” gasped Dora Warren.
“Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t see you in E or S-Station.”

“I’m in E,” said the lady matter-of-factly,
“Listen, I was observing the proceedings just now with great interest and
seeing from the start that you stood no chance. Women like ourselves have never
made it to S, because, compared to them, we have never known what real
suffering is. I only discovered this here. We are the Egg-Receivers and they
the Scorpion-Receivers. There’s just no comparison. Take my advice. Be content
with E,” and the lady turned to go and slowly disappeared, followed by her
Guardian Angel, who clearly adored her.

“What do you think I should do now?” Dora
Warren asked her Guardian Angel dispiritedly.

“There are special cases like yours in which
we Guardian Angels are authorised to use our judgement,” said Fordora. “And
this is what I will do. I am giving you a choice: you either move on to
E-Station or return to Earth and see whether you can accumulate the necessary
merit to deserve S. Of course I don’t promise you will get S the next time, but
I’m just offering you a choice.”

Into Dora Warren’s mind had suddenly flashed
a scene which she thought she had dismissed long ago. She saw again the woman
on the Allahabad railway platform, crawling out of her rags with her baby, past
the money on the ground, in an attempt to touch her with her stump of an arm.
She saw herself, not fleeing in terror this time, but crawling to meet this
woman, crawling past her theories, past her demythologising and paradigms and
syndromes, to meet and touch.

“I think I have made my choice,” she said,
“Thank you, Fordora.”

* * *

“Mother, are you all right?” said Josie
gently, bending over her as she lay on the hospital bed. She looked around and
then down at her bandaged wrists. She felt so tired.

“Mother, you gave us such a fright,”
continued Josie, “but you’re okay now, so try to get some sleep, Mother
darling.” She was with a boyfriend whom she was going to marry soon, and in her
new happiness, was sorry she ever said those nasty things about her mother at
the interviews.

Dora continued looking around wearily, then
started up, remembering something, and a new look of purpose came into her eyes
and brightened them. Seeing a nurse come in, she asked, “Nurse, how soon before
I can get up and go on a trip?”

“Heavens, Mrs Warren, you shouldn’t be
thinking of trips just yet!” laughed the nurse good-naturedly.

“Josie, could you book me a flight to India,
to Allahabad? Soon. Now.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Mother,” said Josie and
she and her boyfriend and the nurse exchanged glances that said, “Dora Warren
is far, far from well. She will have to be under observation for a long time.”

“Of course, Mother,” repeated Josie,
settling her back gently on her pillows, “but first you must have a good rest.”

“Thanks,” said Dora, and was soon asleep.

A prolific writer, Catherine Lim has written
more than 19 books across various genres – short stories, novels, reflective
prose, poems and satirical pieces. Born in 1942 Malaya, Lim was a teacher, then
project director with the Ministry of Education and a specialist lecturer with
the Regional
Language Centre (RELC) before
dedicating herself fully to writing in 1992.

Lim has won several national and regional
book prizes for her literary contributions, including the National Book
Development Council (NBDCS) awards in 1982, 1988 and 1990; the Montblanc-NUS
Centre For The Arts Literary Award in 1998; and the 1999 regional Southeast
Asian Write Award. She was conferred with an Honorary Doctorate of Literature
by Murdoch University, Australia, in 2000 and a Knight of the Order of Arts and
Letters by the French Ministry of Culture and Information in 2003. Lim was also
Ambassador for the Hans Christen Andersen Foundation, Copenhagen, in 2005.

Many of Lim’s works are studied in local and
foreign schools and universities, and have been published in various languages
in several countries. She was the first Singaporean author to pen an
electronic-novella over the internet, which has since been adapted into a
movie.

Besides writing, Lim guest lectures at local
and international seminars, conferences, arts/writing festivals and cruise
ships worldwide. She has also appeared on radio and television programmes in
Singapore, Europe and Australia.