I walked up the back stairs and into the veranda, which was white in the afternoon sun. I couldn't enter that house through the stairs at the main entrance. We were poor relatives, and we were told to honor the house and the family.
To the left of the veranda is a sloping and uncluttered kitchen with a variety of elaborate modern fixtures. An ugly Indian girl was washing dishes, her face full of numbness, her breasts loose, and she was wearing a dirty red print dress.
When she saw me, she said, "Hello, Romesh. She was cheerful when she opened her mouth, and her tone weakened when she closed her mouth, but it was more appropriate.
"Hello," I said softly, "is she here?" I used my thumb toward the living room in front of me to compare it.
"Yes. Boy, she cries all day. That kid is really cute too. The maid was adapting herself to the language of her master's house.
"Can I go in?"
"Yes." She whispered. She wiped her wet hand over the dress and led me in. Her kitchen was clean and spotlessly clean, but all the dust seemed to stain her. She tiptoed over to the curtained door, opened it an inch or two, probed respectfully inside, and said in a slightly louder voice, "Romesh is here, Miss Sheila." ”
A sigh came from inside. The maid opened the door and closed it from the outside when I came in. All the curtains were drawn and the room was filled with a stuffy darkness that smelled of ammonia and oil. Light came through some of the airy slits, enough to see Sheila. She wore a loose pale yellow nightgown; she sat half and half on a pink couch. I stepped over the polished floor, walking as slowly as I could and making no sound. My gaze moved from Sheila to the table by the couch. I don't know how to speak. Sheila breaks the silence first. She looked me up and down in the semi-darkness and said, "Yo, Romesh, you've grown up." "She smiled with tears in her eyes." How are you? How is your mother? ”
Sheila didn't like my mom. "They're all good — everyone in the family is good." I said, "How are you?" She grudgingly smiled. Still alive. Pull up a chair. Slowly, slowly – wait a minute. Let me look at you. Yo, you're about to become a handsome young man. ”
I pulled up a chair and sat down. When I sat, my legs were initially spread out. But I also think it's rude and too casual. So I folded my knees together and rested my hands lightly on them. I sat up straight. Then I looked at Sheila. She smiled.
Then she began to cry. She reached for the damp handkerchief on the table. I stood up and asked her if she liked sniffing salt or bay oil. She whimpered vigorously, shook her head, and told me to sit down with words interrupted by tears.
I sat motionless, not knowing what to do.
She wiped her tears with the handkerchief, pulled a larger handkerchief from her nightgown, and blew her nose. Then she smiled. "Please forgive me for being so uncontrollable." She said.
I was ready to say "I don't see outside," but I thought it was too blunt. So I opened my mouth and leaked out ambiguous words.
"You don't know my son, Romesh?"
"I've only seen him once." I lied and immediately felt regret. If she asked me where I had seen him or when I had seen him, it would have been terrible. In fact, I waited until the news of his death to learn that Sheila's child was a man.
But she didn't ask me. "I have some pictures of him." She cried out in a soft, grudging voice, "Sumintera." ”
The maid opened the door. "What do you want, Miss Sheila?"
"Yes, Sumin," Sheila said (I noticed that she shortened the maid's name, which is generally inappropriate), and yes, I want those snapshots of Ravi. She almost cried again at the mention of the name, but she finally threw her head back and turned into a smile.
As Sumintra left the room, I looked at the wall. In the dim light, I could make out a copy of a print of The Princes in the Tower, a small blue, beautiful river lazily flowing from the flowers-filled banks. I looked at the wall to avoid looking at Sheila. But her gaze followed mine, resting on the prints of The Princes in the Tower.
"You know that story?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Look at them. They're going to be killed, you know. I didn't really understand the painting until these two days, you know. Those boys. How sad. Look at the dog again, I don't understand anything, I just want to go out. ”
"It's a sad painting."
She wiped her tears and smiled again. "But, tell me, Romesh, are you okay with your studies?"
"It's the same old way."
"Are you going to leave?"
"It depends on how I do in my exams."
"But you're going to do well." Your dad isn't a fool after all. ”
Sumintra brought the album. It was an expensive photo album, wrapped in a leather case. From the time he could go out outdoors, to a month before his death, Ravi did not stop taking pictures. There were pictures of people in bathing suits, of sand digging on the East, North and South Shores; of Ravi attending carnivals in disguise and tea parties; of Ravi with dozens of people I didn't know. Again and again, Sheila leaned forward and pointed. "This is Ravi in that American doctor's house. A lovely guy. He looked sweet, didn't he? Look at this again: the kid is always smiling at the camera. He always knew what we were doing. He was a very smart kid. ”
We finally finished the snapshot. Sheila stopped talking at the end. I felt that she had read the album several times in the past two days.
I tapped my hands on my knees. I looked at the clock on the wall and The Princes in the Tower. Sheila broke the siege for me. "I think you must be hungry." I shook my head slightly.
"Su Ming will get something for you to eat."
Sumintra did prepare something for me and I ate in the kitchen - the food in their house was always good. I was ready to face Sheila's tears and smiles of farewell. Just then, the doctor came. He was Sheila's husband, and everyone called him "Doctor." He was tall and had a pale, handsome face that now looked haggard and tired.
"Hello, Romesh."
"Hello, doctor."
"How is she?"
"Not very happy."
"It'll be fine in two days." That kind of blow, you know. She was a vulnerable person. ”
"Hopefully she'll recover as soon as possible."
He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. He went to pull the curtains so that the sun from the veranda would shine in, and then told me to sit down.
"Do you know my son?"
"A little bit."
"He's a good boy. We wanted — I should say, I wanted to — to have him compete in the morning glory cross-door children's competition. But Sheila disagreed with the idea. ”
I can't find anything to say.
"He fell in love with singing when he was four, you know. Sing any song. English and Hindi. Do you know that song – "I'll See You Again?" ”
I nodded.
"He always sang and sang this song. He remembers all the lyrics. Where it came from, I don't know, but he remembered it all. I can't even remember half of it myself. That's what he is. fast. You know, the last thing he said to me was 'I'll see you again in all familiar places'. When Sheila heard he was dead, she looked at me and began to cry. I'll see you again. She said. ”
I didn't look at him.
"That makes you think, right?" Reminds you of life. Here today, gone tomorrow. That reminds you of life and death, right? You look at me, preaching again. Why don't you go and tutor the kids? He asked me suddenly, "You can make a lot of money." I know a teenager who teaches one afternoon a week and earns fifty dollars a month. ”
"I'm busy with exams."
He didn't listen. "Tell me, have you ever seen the picture we took of Ravi at the last carnival?" I didn't have the courage to say I'd seen it.
"Su Ming," he cried, "bring the album." ”
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