Valmiki's Daughter by Shani Mootoo

Valmiki and Devika, in spite of the chill between them, had discreetly exchanged nervous glances at this touch of congeniality, but when nothing untoward immediately followed, they relaxed. The main part of the meal was eaten in an atmosphere of hesitant amicability.
    Then, just as Devika finished serving out the cherry cheese-cake and placed on the table a saucer of Rimpty’s chocolates that their chocolate-making neighbours, the Prakashs, had sent over, the dreaded subject of extracurricular activities came up. And not just any extracurricular activity, but volleyball. That damned volleyball subject yet again! thought Valmiki, even as he tried to appear unfazed. But the subject hadn’t simply come up, of course. Viveka had introduced it in a contrived way. Throughout the meal Vashti had been talking to Viveka, and Valmiki, perhaps because he had been anticipating some unpleasantness, had noticed that Viveka seemed unduly irritated by Vashti’s chatter and appeared to be listening to the conversation going on between him and Devika. Valmiki had been telling Devika that the Medical Association was having their annual dinner and dance soon, and was wondering if he should secure tickets. Devika had responded that there was a clique of wives who were social climbers, using their husbands’ professions — professions that the husbands only had because education and scholarships were available to any and everybody in the country — to give them all kinds of licence they wouldn’t otherwise have, and that those women liked to gossiptoo much. Those women were smiling and paying you compliments one minute, and the moment you had your back to them they were prying into your life and crying you down, all to build themselves up. She really hated those dinners.
    Just then, Viveka piped up. “There seems to be a general human need to form cliques and join clubs, doesn’t there?” Valmiki knew instantly where she wanted to go with that statement. Both he and Devika bristled. There was a local women-only sports club, not connected to the university but a local community club that met on Tuesdays and Thursdays for practice at the public park at the far end of the Harris Promenade, and a few weeks ago Viveka had expressed an interest in joining it. Devika had asked her if she was crazy, wanting to go and play a game in a club that was open to anybody and, of all places, in that part of the city. Whereupon Viveka had reminded them that Helen, daughter of their financial adviser, was on a team that played there. Devika had responded, “I don’t care if the Queen’s children play on that court, my children are not playing there. You should know better than asking.”
    And now Viveka had burst into their dinnertime conversation, bringing up the subject again. “You know, the interesting thing about a community sports club is that it does allow for the intermingling of the different social classes and the many cultures our county is blessed with, don’t you agree, Dad?” Although Valmiki knew the question was rhetorical, he was about to grab the rein with some clever and diverting response, but Viveka didn’t wait for an answer. “I mean, after all, we are a small island, and rather than form cliques we should indeed be learning from and about one another, helping one another upward, you know what I am saying?” She looked from her father to Vashti and carried right on again. “As you yourself have said, Dad, strongindividuals make for a strong nation, a strong country within and without.” If Viveka’s little sermon prevented her from hearing her mother’s sudden heavy breathing, Valmiki was aware of it, and this panicked him even more than whatever Viveka had up her sleeve. Devika bit her lower lip. She pushed her plate up the table. Valmiki couldn’t help himself. He had to smile. His daughter was bold. Bolder than he was. Vashti put down her fork,