Nectar in a Sieve: Chapters 11–16

“Of course,” she said softly, derision in her voice. “We all have reasons.”

“I would,” he replied, with a hint of sorrow in his eyes, “for she was a good wife to me, and a comely one, but I have waited long and now I have taken another woman.”

“What has happened?” we ask with trepidation. They are still our sons, but suddenly they have outgrown us.

Looking back now, I wonder how it came to pass that not until that fateful day did we realise the trouble that had been brewing.

At one time there had been kingfishers here, flashing between the young shoots for our fish; and paddy birds; and sometimes, in the shallower reaches of the river, flamingoes, striding with ungainly precision among the water reeds, with plumage of a glory not of this earth.

At one time there had been kingfishers here, flashing between the young shoots for our fish; and paddy birds; and sometimes, in the shallower reaches of the river, flamingoes, striding with ungainly precision among the water reeds, with plumage of a glory not of this earth.

Now birds came no more, for the tannery lay close—except crows and kites and such scavenging birds, eager for the town’s offal, or sometimes a pal-pitta, skimming past with raucous cry but never stopping, perhaps dropping a blue-black feather in flight to delight the children.

Now birds came no more, for the tannery lay close—except crows and kites and such scavenging birds, eager for the town’s offal, or sometimes a pal-pitta, skimming past with raucous cry but never stopping, perhaps dropping a blue-black feather in flight to delight the children.

I glanced at him, sitting there in our hut with his long, haggard face and eyes like a kingfisher’s wing, living among us who were not his people, in a country not his own, and of a sudden I was moved to ask him if he was indeed alone.

“I have the usual encumbrances that men have—wife, children, home—that would have put chains about me but I resisted, and so I am alone. As for coming and going, I do as I please, for am I not my own master? I work among you when my spirit wills it...I go when I am tired of your follies and stupidities, your eternal, shameful poverty. I can only take you people,” he said, “in small doses.”

Nathan no longer said perhaps; only a faint spark of hope, obstinately, refusing to die, brought him out each dawn to scour the heavens for a sign.

Tomorrows came and went and there was no rain. Nathan no longer said perhaps; only a faint spark of hope, obstinately refusing to die, brought him out each dawn to scour the heavens for a sign.

“Give me time,” he said at last humbly, “until the next crop.
I will pay then, somehow.”

“Pay half now,” Sivaji said, “and I will try and do as you wish.” He spoke quickly, as if to give himself no time to repent of his offer, and hurried away even before my husband had assented.

“That is why he and his kind are employed,” Nathan said bitterly. “To protect their overlords from such unpleasant tasks. Now the landlord can wring from us his moneys and care not for the misery he evokes, for indeed it would be difficult for any man to see another starve and his wife and children as well; or to enjoy the profits born of such travail.”

“That is why he and his kind are employed,” Nathan said bitterly. “To protect their overlords from such unpleasant tasks. Now the landlord can wring from us his moneys and care not for the misery he evokes, for indeed it would be difficult for any man to see another starve and his wife and children as well; or to enjoy the profits born of such travail.”

“Indeed,” he said, a little disconcerted. “Well, Rukmani, since we have done business for a long time, and because you are a woman of spirit whom I have long admired, I will give you thirty rupees. Nobody could be fairer.”

Of her former beauty not a vestige remained.

“My sons,” she said, looking at me speculatively, “are not mine alone.”

I told him of her earlier visit and the grain she had extorted from me also; and it seemed to me that a new peace came to us then, freed at last from the necessity for lies and concealment and deceit, with the fear of betrayal lifted from us, and with the power we ourselves had given her wrested finally from Kunthi.

For these they must have ranged widely, for other farmers and their families, in like plight to ourselves, were also out searching for food; and for every edible plant or root there was a struggle—a desperate competition that made enemies of friends and put an end to humanity.

For hunger is a curious thing: at first it is with you all the time, waking and sleeping and in your dreams, and your belly cries out insistently, and there is a gnawing and a pain as if your very vitals were being devoured, and you must stop it at any cost, and you buy a moment’s respite even while you know and fear the sequel.

Then the pain is no longer sharp but dull, and this too is with you always, so that you think of food many times a day and each time a terrible sickness assails you, and because you know this you try to avoid the thought, but you cannot, it is with you.

“It will not be long before the harvest,” Nathan would murmur, and I would agree with him, stifling the query whether our strength would last till then, saying, “Ah yes, not long now; only a little time before the grain is ripe.”

It happened to me too, but I could not see myself, only what happened to others: saw their flesh melt away and their skin sag and sink between their jutting bones, saw their eyes retreat into their skulls, saw their ribs curve out from under the skin; and what withered the young bore doubly hard on the old and they were emaciated twice over.

One day Raja went out as usual and did not come trickle of blood running from his mouth, fresh and still bright red, and more blood from a cut in his head, dark and congealed here and matting his hair.

It was real; yet it seemed a nightmare, it could not be true that my son lay dead before me. Thus my thoughts, dazed and confused, injecting pain where there was numbness; and my mind, furtively touching the edges of realisation, then fleeing from it in terror.

I heard Ira begin to sing a low dirge; she was rocking gently back and forth, and she was crying.

Nathan prepares the bier, I see him lifting the body on to it.

“It is not long to wait,” I said, trying to hearten her. “And if the Gods are kind it may even be sooner.”

My fancies fled headlong from me; in their place a cloud of black and grey arose, revolving before my eyes and assuming fantastic shapes and forms until at last one stood out clearly away from the swirling mists and with a face to it.

My fancies fled headlong from me; in their place a cloud of black and grey arose, revolving before my eyes and assuming fantastic shapes and forms until at last one stood out clearly away from the swirling mists and with a face to it.

The figure was there, soft and blurred in outline, but a woman’s. I threw myself at it, pinioning the arms savagely; thrust at it and beat it to the ground; fell on it with fury; felt the weak struggles of the body beneath mine like the feeble fluttering of a trapped bird, and exulted.

The figure was there, soft and blurred in outline, but a woman’s. I threw myself at it, pinioning the arms savagely; thrust at it and beat it to the ground; fell on it with fury; felt the weak struggles of the body beneath mine like the feeble fluttering of a trapped bird, and exulted.

Saw her walk to the town, along the narrow lane which ran past the tannery, following it to where it broadened with beedi shops along one side and tawdry stalls on the other, where men with bold eyes lounged smoking or drinking from frothing toddy pots.

She moved jauntily, stepping with outrageous fastidiousness amid the litter of the street, the chewed sugar cane, the trampled sweetmeats, the red betel-nut spittle; jauntily, a half-smile on her lips answering the jeers and calls that were thrown at her, eyes darting quickly round searching, then retreating behind half-drawn lids.

Day after day he went out as before, delving and scraping for food, as thin and dry as a hollow bamboo stick.

“What is done is done,” I said, urging him to eat. “There is no stricture on you, for you have tried.”

From his corner, when he was no longer capable of any other movement, his eyes constantly followed us, seeming never to tire in their restless wandering. Otherwise he lay quiet like a bruised fledgling, with the dry, parched lips of exhaustion and a body which could struggle no more.

He looked tired but very calm, with the signs of suffering taken from his countenance. Nathan came and knelt beside him with harsh sorrowing face and bitter eyes.