The Ivory Swing (11 page)

19

Time smoked around Juliet like the vapours that followed the rains. What day of the week was it? What month of the year? Only the hours had their seasons and identities: the dawn of Prabhakaran's arrival with milk; the morning's agony of scrubbing with swollen knuckles; the recess of lime drinks and lowing cows; the school work; the long slow dance with paddy rice and coconuts to prepare the evening meal; the coolness of the grove at dusk; story time; the damp sleep of exhaustion.

Then begin again, begin again, begin again.

And the paths that snaked between the coconut palms radiated out to the rest of the city like tongues licking at fragments of events, before curling back in upon themselves, folding their garnered morsels into the blurred cave of Juliet's heat-stunned memory. Down some of the paths Annie was coming towards her, forever in slow motion, never getting any closer. On others, braiding themselves around the market, the abrasive young student led chanting cohorts. Somewhere Mr Matthew Thomas beckoned graciously, promising coolness and safety. And always Yashoda flitted back and forth between the trees like a woman on an ivory swing — translucent, a trick of the light, an artist's fantasy.

Was it real, that flash of silk under the areca fronds? There! Over there! Now darting, kingfisher blue, beside the paddy.

Or was it part of the dream? Of the soft-edged mirage of time passing?

The cows were real, that was certain. She had clothing with chewed-up sleeves to prove it. (There was always too much laundry for the coir rope on the roof, always something that had to be draped on the trees in the courtyard.) And Prabhakaran was real because the milk came each morning.

He had told her a strange story which was surely part of her dream. Though he had been insistent and voluble. Yashoda, he said, had asked him to bring her astrologer secretly to the house beyond the forest. Much money had been given and a horoscope had been cast.

It was difficult for Juliet — even with the mediation and translation of Jonathan and Miranda, who could communicate with Prabhakaran in that astonishing way of children — to piece together the prediction for which gold bracelets had been tendered.

It seemed that Yashoda had asked what would happen if she appeared in public again.

In spite of opposition, the astrologer had said, her future was looking most auspicious. There was a certain conjunction of stars in her sign, indicating both the coming of love and some great upheaval over which she would no doubt triumph. A fair woman and a messenger boy were indicated. (Myself and Prabhakaran, Juliet thought instinctively. And then, shaking the heat from her brain with irritable cynicism: How transparent those astrologers are. They don't even need to be unusually observant.)

An older man was also indicated, Prabhakaran reported. All these would be figures of power. (Is she weaving a net for David? Juliet wondered wryly. Or is it Shivaraman Nair?)

There was an area of darkness, a death — here Prabhakaran had shivered and spat, but Juliet thought: It is the death of her husband; it is already in the past; oh cunning astrologer!

At the appropriate time — and this, Prabhakaran said, had been calculated for an additional fee — Yashoda should again venture out to the public road. Although her kinsman would be angry he would be unable to harm her on that particular day because of an auspicious meeting with one of the figures of power.

(Will she waylay David in the grove again? Juliet asked herself. Or will I be the one who is expected to perform miracles?)

But it was Annie who arrived on the day designated by the astrologer, Annie who burst like a trajectory of reality into the haze of Juliet's dreamtime. Jonathan and Miranda saw her from the roof top where they were playing.

“It's Annie!” they shrieked, pelting down the stairs. “Annie's here!”

Juliet peered through the grove. How lightly Annie moves, she thought with envy. No baggage. No encumbrances. A new breed, by the luck of birth year.

Annie, who was disgustingly exuberant, scooped up the children and bear-hugged them, swirled Juliet into a dance of excessive high spirits. “Oh, isn't this country gorgeous? I never want to leave. You must be practically delirious with happiness living in the middle of these coconut trees.”

Imagine, Juliet thought, at my age, tasting the vinegar of sibling rivalry. There I am: my younger self, my road not taken. How unfairly radiant. How immoderately certain that the world is a lucky charm dangling from her wrist.

“Yes,” she said sardonically. “Delirium
is
a daily hazard.”

“It's so … so pristine! No western ugliness or cultural clutter or inhibitions! So …
untrammelled!
”

Juliet thought: Surely I was never quite so embarrassingly glib about everything non-western and non-middle class? “Untrammelled! Perhaps you should take your blinkers off.”

Annie's eyebrows pleated themselves in bewilderment. “Is something bothering you?”

“It's just that your euphoria is based on a degree of ignorance you should be ashamed of.” Juliet had a barely conscious awareness of pitching about like a kite in storm winds, but careened blindly on. “It's slightly sickening.”

Annie stared. “What on earth is the matter with you?”

Embarrassed, Juliet would, at this point, have shaken off the prickly-heat of irritability if Annie had not touched a certain nerve with a sister's deadly aim.

“The Winston dowager herself! God, you're stuffy sometimes. And a middle-aged bore.”

Reeling, Juliet thought: Can it be horribly true? Am I smeared with Winston as with birdlime? Will I break out in white gloves?

“Look!” she countered angrily. “Within blowing distance of your hot air, there are serfs and a widow who may as well have her feet bound. Come and be introduced to reality.”

“Maybe I'll just take the train right back to the
ashram
in Pondicherry.”

“Oh perfect. Do that. Go live it up with a bunch of affluent western drifters getting high on meditation and self-indulgence and sex. That's more your style, Annie. I wouldn't want to confuse you with a few harsh truths.”

“God, you're a mouthy bitch! And to think all my life I've lived in your shadow. To think I've envied you. To think I've wasted years feeling a failure because of you!”

“You've what?”

“Years of Mother saying: ‘When are you going to settle down like Juliet?' ‘When are you going to give us grandchildren?' ‘When are you going to become
responsible
like Juliet?' ‘When are you going to realize that you can combine commitment with career (with a
moderate
career, placed in the right perspective!) like Juliet?' When are you going to become goddam bloody perfect like Juliet?”

“Oh Annie! I never forgive anyone who makes me cry.” She threw her arms around her sister. “I
am
a mouthy bitch. I'm out of my mind with heat and isolation. Don't you realize I've been jealous of you for years?”

“That's a laugh! Of what? Of my trail of busted relationships? Of my solitary chain-smoking nights?”

“But you've always been free as a bird. You walk away with a shrug and a laugh, you can't be touched. You're unhurtable.” Like Jeremy. It was
still
a secret obsession: to find a chink in his armour. Not for revenge, not to cause chaos. Just to know if he had ever once tossed at night because of her.

Annie laughed. “We learn the skills for our own survival. I've
learned
to shrug and walk away with a smile. You think I'm going to wear my heart on my sleeve? I'm a walking armadillo, not a bird, but I'll keep up a damn good flying act just the same. I do have pride, I'm a hell of an actress. And I will admit I've cultivated the art of the present moment. If you've got no future, that's all there is. Seize and enjoy is my motto.”

“Mommy!” Jonathan interposed urgently. “Have you and Annie finished fighting now?”

“You see?” Juliet gestured with her hands remorsefully. “The perfect mother, traumatizing her children with verbal violence. Feel free to tell their grandmother, if it'll make you feel better.” And, turning to her children: “I'm a little frayed at the edges these days. Sorry. Did I upset you?”

Jonathan's face was flushed. “Someone is coming.”

It was Yashoda.

“Okay, Annie. Brace yourself for a more jaundiced view of the erotic and pristine East. This is the widow with bound feet and chastity belt.”

Yashoda approached Annie as though Annie were a manifestation of Lakshmi, goddess of good fortune. After introductions, she could not restrain herself.

“Oh Annie, you have come on a special day! You are auspicious. Your power is blazing as the sun when it falls into the ocean at Cape Comorin. You are bringing my freedom!”

Annie laughed, a little embarrassed. “Oh, that's me, all right. Scattering liberation as I go.”

Auspicious people, Juliet thought sourly, seem to be a dime a dozen.

“Please,” Yashoda begged. “You must all come to my house now. We will have tea.”

“Wonderful,” Annie enthused. “And I'll regale you with tales of high adventure and forbidden love in Delhi.”

“I hope you'll make allowances for my sister, Yashoda. She likes to shock. Don't be offended.”

“Oh I am not offended, no, no! For me it is very exciting listening to this talking.”

Yashoda is like a prisoner on day parole, Juliet thought. Every little thing gives pleasure.

On the way to Yashoda's house the children, resident experts, gave a running commentary on the house, the lotus pond, the banana clump, the rice paddy. Only when they reached the forest did they fall silent. They had not been in it before. They moved along the track single file, Yashoda leading.

As they neared the clearing the sound of the flute reached them, pure and haunting. Prabhakaran was sitting at the edge of the pond, his feet idly dangling in the water, playing to the lotuses and the tall blue lilies that swayed with every breath of wind.

“How lovely!” whispered Annie. “He looks like Pan.”

Like Blake's lamb, Juliet thought. Innocence before the Fall.
Did he who made the cobra make thee?

“Like Krishna,” Yashoda said.

“Prabhakaran! Prabhakaran! ” the children called, and the image dissolved in laughter and splashing and chasing.

Inside the small house, Yashoda's maidservant brought tea. Annie gazed around raptly.

“How marvellous to live alone like this in the forest! It makes me think of Thoreau and of Yeats' isle of Innisfree. You know:
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow
… And the small cabin and the lake water lapping. Even Yeats didn't have lotuses though.”

Juliet partly listened to fragments of conversation, Yashoda's voice drifting by like a dimly heard flute.

“Our fathers chose for us. I had met him only once before marriage. But I was content because he intended to go to the London School of Economics after graduation. And I wanted very much to go to London. After marriage we had affection for each other.

“Perhaps when Professor David and Juliet are returning to Canada …

“I am very much wanting to experience love.” Yashoda's voice meandered dreamily on. “When I was studying for my BA, I have read Shakespeare. My favourite was
Romeo and Juliet.
Also I loved very much
Wuthering Heights.
That is the sort of love I would like to experience.”

As she talked she was idly playing with the gold chains around her neck. Her hand moved back and forth stroking her glowing coffee-coloured skin, and now, daydreaming, her fingers strayed lower so that she was lightly brushing the upper part of her breasts that swelled above the low-cut sari blouse. It was a totally unselfconscious gesture, solitary, absorbed. There was something infinitely sad and yearning about it, and Juliet and Annie watched her, mesmerized, full of pity.

“Surely there is something we can do,” Annie said.

“Oh I knew you would help me, Annie. If you will protect me, it is possible. Shivaraman Nair can do nothing to you. I do not want to be locked up! I love the noise of the market! I want to go there with you!”

“But Yashoda,” Juliet said nervously. “Shouldn't we plan something more discreet? It would be very discourteous of us to offend Shivaraman Nair publicly —”

“Oh Juliet, for heavens sake! Politeness can be just another form of cowardice. In fact, I see no reason why you and I shouldn't go on a trip together, Yashoda. Cape Comorin, why not?”

Yashoda clapped her hands with delight. But then, abruptly, she was frightened by this heady leap from daydream into possibility. The ebb and flow of her courage was tied to a perception of protective magic. “Ah, I cannot! Only
today
is auspicious. We must go today, or they will send me to Palghat.”

Annie raised one eyebrow. “Yashoda, I have been on trains and buses all day. I'm exhausted. We'll be just as safe in a few days' time. There's nothing they can do to us.”

Annie was so certain, so confident, so invulnerable. What harm could possibly penetrate her aura of safety? Yashoda remembered her astrologers words:
A fair woman, a figure of power.
She took courage. She felt exhilarated.

“Oh Annie, Annie, thank you. This was a truly auspicious meeting.”

Juliet was silent. She was full of awe for Yashoda's brave, if somewhat reckless, defiance of centuries of custom. And Annie's response was no different from her own initial reactions. But she felt washed by a vague sense of dread, a foreboding. The dark hostility of Shivaraman Nair had gradually been seeping deeper into her consciousness, spreading like a contusion.
When dharma is broken, everyone is suffering.

In her mind's eye she saw it again: the bird of paradise mangled on the floor of its cage. Ridiculous, she told herself crossly,