The Ivory Swing Read Online Free PDF

the young woman coming towards her.
    â€œAgain we are meeting,” said a voice as lilting and strange as Prabhakaran’s flute.
    Juliet was startled. It might have been Radha waiting secretly in the forest for her divine lover Krishna, so sudden and mysterious and beautiful was the apparition. The woman smiled and Juliet recognized her. It was the woman she had met in the market earlier in the day, the woman who had spoken about the price of eggs.
    â€œForgive me.” Juliet was embarrassed by the pungent loops trailing from her hands. “I am just going to bury these.”
    â€œYou must not do this work. You must have servants.”
    â€œOh no, really. I do have a boy, in fact … It’s just that … Why were you at Palayam Market? Do you not have a servant yourself?”
    â€œOh yes. I have a servant. Once I had many servants. I do not myself buy in the market.”
    â€œBut you knew the prices.”
    â€œA good mistress always inquires of her servant the cost. It is necessary for the sound running of the household.”
    â€œThen why were you in the market place?”
    â€œIt is a special day for me. An auspicious day.”
    â€œWho are you? Why have I never seen you before today?”
    â€œFor many weeks I have not left my house. But now I shall be walking again in public.”
    As she spoke she kept glancing along the path as though either expecting or dreading company.
    â€œBut I thought …” Juliet murmured. “This is not a public path. I mean I don’t understand. Did you know that these are the estates of Shivaraman Nair? I thought only —”
    â€œHe is my kinsman. I also live on these estates.”
    â€œOh!”
    The woman was like a gazelle, light as air, beautiful as lotus flowers. Though her voice was soft and melodious, there was a sense of urgency about her, a kind of nervousness poised for defense or flight. Her silk sari fluttered like restive wings. There was gold at her wrists and ankles, a spectacular diamond and emerald ring on one finger, a nose jewel and earrings. It occurred to Juliet that she had never before seen a high-caste woman walking alone. In fact she had rarely seen one in public at all. They never seemed to leave their houses except as passengers in their black Ambassador cars, chauffeured by their husbands or the driver servant. Certainly she had never seen one at Palayam Market before.
    â€œWho are you?” she asked again.
    â€œI am Yashoda.”
    â€œAnd I am Juliet.”
    â€œI know. My kinfolk have spoken about your family. You must please visit me.”
    â€œThank you. I would love to. Where is your house?”
    â€œOver there.” She pointed behind her to the forested area beyond the rice paddy.
    â€œI will certainly come. And you must visit us too.”
    â€œThat is more difficult,” she said sadly. “Now I am going. This meeting with you is auspicious. Twice is most auspicious. Thank you.
    â€œWait! Why is it auspicious? What do you mean?”
    â€œToday is my birthday. I have consulted a very skilled astrologer to cast my horoscope. He told me that on this day I should take courage and appear again in public. He said I would meet a person of destiny who would bring me a great gift. I thank you for this.”
    â€œOh, I don’t think I could be … wait …!”
    But she made namaskaram and was gone like a blown petal along the path.
    Juliet buried her scraps in the warm mud beside the rice paddy. Amused and disturbed. Wondering.
    Everything was so unreal. People appeared and disappeared swiftly and insubstantially as illusions. No letters came. No radio, no news, no proof of anything existing beyond the fluttering horizon of coconut palms. The rice grew into dreams, the paddy mud silted up memory.
    She had a panicky sensation of free-falling through oblivion, a sudden radical doubt about her own continuity. She rubbed her muddy and gut-flecked