raindrops, plunk, plunk your feet up and down, and then thunk, thunk, thunk for thunder. Rain was something to avoid for Jani, something to come out from.
Surprisingly, my mother came once or twice to check up on me. She looked at me through the doorway, but if I attempted a smile, she didn’t respond. Once she did smile at me, but it was my turn to pout and stew. All right for her to stand and smile, while I was bedridden. Where was she when I was well and able? I scowled quite fiercely.
When the days were bright again, I soon went back to the market. I brought along a book of zoology to a cafe I had lately discovered. It was a well-lit place full of scuffed tables and patrons who nursed their drinks for hours. I had a rose milk, which I took to a corner table by a window that poured in sunlight.
I liked what zoology offered me. In the study of animals, I saw how environment affects a certain species and what bearing it has on its life. I thought about Jani’s upbringing, how she had no parents, how she seemed docile and able to adapt to any given environment. Her stubbornness in refusing even to be nice to C.P. must be the result of all that former adaptability. If Jani were an animal, her species would die out in her refusal to mate and create offspring. All Grandmother was trying to do was to continue the species.
I looked at my book of animal classifications. Therewere nineteen categories of animal life before even getting to the class of mammal and man. If all the protozoa and the mollusks and segmented worms reproduced regularly, why couldn’t Jani? Even my mother followed the biological urges that maintained mankind, although she should certainly retire her wares by now. I expected to marry and have children. Maybe I’d settle on Pi, in a nice house with a garden, and work at the wildlife preserve in Cootij. It was a place with lots of protected land and full of options for a zoologist. I could come back from Radcliffe, get married, and go to work immediately. Idly, I began to wonder who would be at my wedding. My sisters, of course, but what of my mother? I was interrupted in my musings by a tap on the shoulder.
“Hello, my friend,” said an American voice. Turning around, I looked up to see the American from the mango stand. Wonderingly, my face grew warm.
“Hi,” I said finally.
“I’m happy to say no one else has been trying to swindle me,” he said.
“That’s good.”
“Anyway, it’s not like I’m wealthy or anything,” he said.
“But you’re American—that’s enough,” I said. It was true, America and money went hand in hand.
“What are you reading?”
I showed him my book, feeling a bit foolish. But together we looked at the insides of a great blue whale.
“I once went on a whale watch and saw a whalebreaching. It was magnificent; it leapt into the air, and it kept on emerging. It didn’t look like anything I’d seen before,” he said.
“Wow,” I said.
It was the only response I could think of. I could say I’d seen a jellyfish, lots of seaweed, an eel or two, and once, a shark’s carcass, but what were those next to whales?
“It was enormous. It’s hard to imagine something so enormous,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you studying for school?” he asked.
“No, I’m on holiday. I just like to read.”
Seeing that my rose milk was almost empty, he asked if I wanted another one and soon joined me at the table.
“I was never any good in science. I liked music, though. I played violin for years. My mother wanted me to be the next great violinist; she was deaf to the sounds I produced. Treat it like an instrument, Richard, not like a device for torture, my teacher would say.”
“My aunts used to make me take classical dance, until I finally convinced them it was a lost cause. I like music, too,” I said. “I also like rose milk. Do you?”
“No. I like lassi, and buttermilk.”
“I like curds and rice with cucumber and mustard.”
“What I
Surprisingly, my mother came once or twice to check up on me. She looked at me through the doorway, but if I attempted a smile, she didn’t respond. Once she did smile at me, but it was my turn to pout and stew. All right for her to stand and smile, while I was bedridden. Where was she when I was well and able? I scowled quite fiercely.
When the days were bright again, I soon went back to the market. I brought along a book of zoology to a cafe I had lately discovered. It was a well-lit place full of scuffed tables and patrons who nursed their drinks for hours. I had a rose milk, which I took to a corner table by a window that poured in sunlight.
I liked what zoology offered me. In the study of animals, I saw how environment affects a certain species and what bearing it has on its life. I thought about Jani’s upbringing, how she had no parents, how she seemed docile and able to adapt to any given environment. Her stubbornness in refusing even to be nice to C.P. must be the result of all that former adaptability. If Jani were an animal, her species would die out in her refusal to mate and create offspring. All Grandmother was trying to do was to continue the species.
I looked at my book of animal classifications. Therewere nineteen categories of animal life before even getting to the class of mammal and man. If all the protozoa and the mollusks and segmented worms reproduced regularly, why couldn’t Jani? Even my mother followed the biological urges that maintained mankind, although she should certainly retire her wares by now. I expected to marry and have children. Maybe I’d settle on Pi, in a nice house with a garden, and work at the wildlife preserve in Cootij. It was a place with lots of protected land and full of options for a zoologist. I could come back from Radcliffe, get married, and go to work immediately. Idly, I began to wonder who would be at my wedding. My sisters, of course, but what of my mother? I was interrupted in my musings by a tap on the shoulder.
“Hello, my friend,” said an American voice. Turning around, I looked up to see the American from the mango stand. Wonderingly, my face grew warm.
“Hi,” I said finally.
“I’m happy to say no one else has been trying to swindle me,” he said.
“That’s good.”
“Anyway, it’s not like I’m wealthy or anything,” he said.
“But you’re American—that’s enough,” I said. It was true, America and money went hand in hand.
“What are you reading?”
I showed him my book, feeling a bit foolish. But together we looked at the insides of a great blue whale.
“I once went on a whale watch and saw a whalebreaching. It was magnificent; it leapt into the air, and it kept on emerging. It didn’t look like anything I’d seen before,” he said.
“Wow,” I said.
It was the only response I could think of. I could say I’d seen a jellyfish, lots of seaweed, an eel or two, and once, a shark’s carcass, but what were those next to whales?
“It was enormous. It’s hard to imagine something so enormous,” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you studying for school?” he asked.
“No, I’m on holiday. I just like to read.”
Seeing that my rose milk was almost empty, he asked if I wanted another one and soon joined me at the table.
“I was never any good in science. I liked music, though. I played violin for years. My mother wanted me to be the next great violinist; she was deaf to the sounds I produced. Treat it like an instrument, Richard, not like a device for torture, my teacher would say.”
“My aunts used to make me take classical dance, until I finally convinced them it was a lost cause. I like music, too,” I said. “I also like rose milk. Do you?”
“No. I like lassi, and buttermilk.”
“I like curds and rice with cucumber and mustard.”
“What I
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