rime of an epiphany.
Yes.
Epiphany.
And she ran across the hot sand towards her children and began to dance at the foaming edge of the Indian Ocean.
Mr Matthew Thomas was so astonished by the sight that he forgot to look under the thatched cabin of the fishing boat drawn up on the sand beside him. At first he thought it was the Burlingtonvermont woman from the Air India office. It was so difficult to tell one Westerner from another. They all looked alike, especially the women. But then he realized that the two children frolicking at the edge of the waves belonged to her, so he was sure it was someone different. How extraordinary Twice in one week! It must be because he was thinking so often of Kumari. Perhaps God sent these messengers. It was auspicious that she was with children. It must surely mean that Kumari would have a safe birthing.
The woman looked like a sprite from the sea with wind and salt spray whipping her long golden hair about her face. Little waves frothed and foamed about her bare ankles, wetting the edges of her cotton skirt, which wrapped itself damply about her thighs in a way that was disturbing to him. She seemed to be dancing in and out of the shallows as were her two children. It was certainly an extraordinary way for a grown woman to behave. Behind her a small crowd of Indian children followed at a slight distance, mimicking her with much merriment, but she seemed unaware of them. Or else chose to ignore them. He felt embarrassed for her.
Could it be the same for Kumari, he wondered with sudden pain. He had a vision of his daughter walking through the snows of Burlingtonvermont in her sari with a mocking group of American children chanting strange things after her. What was it like to walk through snow? Kumari had written that it was soft and powdery. Like sand, he supposed. Like sand that inexplicably froze the feet.
The woman and her two children and their retinue of pranksters had moved on along the beach, so he continued to look among the long snake boats for the family of Ouseph. The fisher people spent their entire lives on the beach. They did not even leave it to market their own fish, since this was the task of another sub-caste of the fishing community. Any of the scant wants that the sea and shoreline did not provide â such as rice, cooking pots, cloth â they bartered from the men and women who sold their fish. They went out to sea by day, and by night slept under coconut thatch awnings hung over their simple boats which were drawn up high on the sand.
Since they were of the lowest castes it would not have been fitting for them to visit Mr Thomas at his house, even if they were ever to leave the beach, nor would it be proper for him to eat with them. But as they were of his faith, he was concerned whenever word reached him that a family was in particular distress. On this occasion he was bringing both food and money to Ouseph and his wife and young children. Ouseph himself had been ill for some time and their eldest son, who was still only a boy, had been taking out the boat each day because the livelihood of the family depended on the daily catch. A week ago the boat had not returned at evening and then a few days later had been washed ashore empty. Mr Thomas went to offer what little comfort he could.
After a time he found them leaning against the simple lashed logs of their boat, gazing out to sea. Mariya, the wife, was weeping silently. The children were nowhere to be seen, probably capering along the beach in the wake of the dayâs wonder. Ouseph stared at him unseeing. He offered his gifts simply and sat a little way apart in silent sympathy. What could be done about the will of God? His ways were inscrutable.
When he felt that a suitable length of time had elapsed he bowed to the sorrowing couple and withdrew. He walked southwards along the beach watching the ocean rolling all the way down the blue distances to where Cape Comorin stood sentinel against the
Yes.
Epiphany.
And she ran across the hot sand towards her children and began to dance at the foaming edge of the Indian Ocean.
Mr Matthew Thomas was so astonished by the sight that he forgot to look under the thatched cabin of the fishing boat drawn up on the sand beside him. At first he thought it was the Burlingtonvermont woman from the Air India office. It was so difficult to tell one Westerner from another. They all looked alike, especially the women. But then he realized that the two children frolicking at the edge of the waves belonged to her, so he was sure it was someone different. How extraordinary Twice in one week! It must be because he was thinking so often of Kumari. Perhaps God sent these messengers. It was auspicious that she was with children. It must surely mean that Kumari would have a safe birthing.
The woman looked like a sprite from the sea with wind and salt spray whipping her long golden hair about her face. Little waves frothed and foamed about her bare ankles, wetting the edges of her cotton skirt, which wrapped itself damply about her thighs in a way that was disturbing to him. She seemed to be dancing in and out of the shallows as were her two children. It was certainly an extraordinary way for a grown woman to behave. Behind her a small crowd of Indian children followed at a slight distance, mimicking her with much merriment, but she seemed unaware of them. Or else chose to ignore them. He felt embarrassed for her.
Could it be the same for Kumari, he wondered with sudden pain. He had a vision of his daughter walking through the snows of Burlingtonvermont in her sari with a mocking group of American children chanting strange things after her. What was it like to walk through snow? Kumari had written that it was soft and powdery. Like sand, he supposed. Like sand that inexplicably froze the feet.
The woman and her two children and their retinue of pranksters had moved on along the beach, so he continued to look among the long snake boats for the family of Ouseph. The fisher people spent their entire lives on the beach. They did not even leave it to market their own fish, since this was the task of another sub-caste of the fishing community. Any of the scant wants that the sea and shoreline did not provide â such as rice, cooking pots, cloth â they bartered from the men and women who sold their fish. They went out to sea by day, and by night slept under coconut thatch awnings hung over their simple boats which were drawn up high on the sand.
Since they were of the lowest castes it would not have been fitting for them to visit Mr Thomas at his house, even if they were ever to leave the beach, nor would it be proper for him to eat with them. But as they were of his faith, he was concerned whenever word reached him that a family was in particular distress. On this occasion he was bringing both food and money to Ouseph and his wife and young children. Ouseph himself had been ill for some time and their eldest son, who was still only a boy, had been taking out the boat each day because the livelihood of the family depended on the daily catch. A week ago the boat had not returned at evening and then a few days later had been washed ashore empty. Mr Thomas went to offer what little comfort he could.
After a time he found them leaning against the simple lashed logs of their boat, gazing out to sea. Mariya, the wife, was weeping silently. The children were nowhere to be seen, probably capering along the beach in the wake of the dayâs wonder. Ouseph stared at him unseeing. He offered his gifts simply and sat a little way apart in silent sympathy. What could be done about the will of God? His ways were inscrutable.
When he felt that a suitable length of time had elapsed he bowed to the sorrowing couple and withdrew. He walked southwards along the beach watching the ocean rolling all the way down the blue distances to where Cape Comorin stood sentinel against the
Similar Books
