Nectar in a Sieve Read Online Free PDF Page A

her," he said. "It is time."
    I wanted to cry out that she was a baby still, but of course Nathan was righti she had left infancy forever. And so I made a skirt for her, weaving bright colours into the white cotton that she might like it, and so she did for a time, wearing it gladly, twirling it about her as she spun round and round; but when the novelty had worn off, she became fractious and wanted to tear it from her. It was nearly a month before she resigned herself to it.
    With six children to feed we could no longer afford to eat all the vegetables we grew. Once a week I would cut and pack our garden produce, selecting the best and leaving the spoilt or bruised vegetables for ourselves, cover the basket with leaves and set off for the village.
    Old Granny was always glad to buy from me, and at first I would make straight for the corner of the street where she sat with her gunny sack spread before her. The old lady would pick out the purple brinjals and yellow pumpkins, the shiny green and red chillies, feeling them with her wrinkled fingers and complimenting me on their size.
    "None like yours," she would say. "Such colour, such a bloom on them!" Perhaps she said it to everyone who came to her, but I would feel absurdly pleased and go away with my insides smiling. Then one day Biswas, the moneylender, stopped me in the street. I would have passed after a brief salutation, for among us there is a dislike of the moneylending class, but he stood squarely in my path.
    "Ah, Rukmani," he said, "in a hurry as usual, I see."
    "My children are not of age to be left alone for long," said I, speaking civilly.
    "Yet surely you have time for a little business with me?"
    "If you will tell me what business?"
    "Buying and selling," he said, cackling, "which is your business, as lending is mine."
    "If you will make yourself clear," I said, "I will stay and hear; otherwise I must be on my way."
    "Those vegetables," he said, "that Old Granny buys from you. What price does she pay you?"
    "A fair price," I said, "and no haggling."
    "I will pay you four annas a dozen for brinjals, and six annas each for pumpkins, if they are large." He was offering almost double what Old Granny paid.
    I went away. The following week I sold almost my whole basket to him, keeping only a little for Old Granny. I did not like selling to him, although he paid me a better price. It was business and nothing else with him, never a word of chaff or a smile -- or perhaps it was the flattery I missed -- and I would much rather have had it the other way; but there you are, you cannot choose.
    To my surprise Old Granny made no comment, beyond smiling reassuringly when I muttered guiltily that our needs at home were growing. In the beginning she may not have known, but when I sold her, week after week, one small pumpkin or half a dozen brinjals she must have guessed the truth. But she said nothing, nor did I, for we both knew she could not pay me more, and I could not afford to sell for less. As it was, we were going short of many things. We no longer had milk in the house, except for the youngest child; curds and butter were beyond our means except on rare occasions. But we never went hungry as some of the families were doing. We grew our own plantains and coconuts, the harvests were good and there was always food in the house -- at least a bagful of rice, a little dhal, if no more. Then when the rice terraces were drained, there was the fish, spawned among the paddy, and what we could not eat, we dried and salted away. And every month I put away a rupee or two against the time Ira would be married. So we still could not grumble.

     

    CHAPTER IV

    CHANGE I had known before, and it had been gradual. My father had been headman once, a person of consequence in our village: I had lived to see him relinquish this importance, but the alteration was so slow that we hardly knew when it came. I had seen both my parents sink into old age and death, and here too there was no