The Ivory Swing Read Online Free PDF Page B

hands in the grass and watched the ants, like undulations of brown velvet, mysteriously appear. For perhaps a full minute she kept quite still, her wrists and fingers brocaded with disciplined activity, brushed with a sensation feathery as the flickering of eyelashes. Then the ants were gone. Vanished. Her hands picked clean as bleached bones.
    Thank god that Annie was coming soon, a brisk inrush of evidence that everything beyond the paddy had not utterly extinguished itself in the secret way of ants.
    And I will write to Jeremy, she thought urgently. Bring him out of the dream-space. Weave a spell with tales of sandalwood and peacocks, lure him to reply. A letter would be something to hold, a talisman.
    But would a letter ever reach him? And would he bother to reply? And would a reply ever find the unnamed road among the backwaters of Kerala, backwater of the world?
    More practical perhaps to cable Annie, Simply: When? Please hurry.
    Annie had called long-distance when plans were still shape-shifting.
    â€œWhat have you decided?” she asked.
    â€œI’m going.”
    â€œWell thank goodness. You’d be crazy not to. And I would have been furious.”
    â€œYou furious? Why? What’s it got to do with you?”
    â€œIn the first place, husbands and wives shouldn’t be apart for so long. Too risky. In the second place I’m thinking of dropping out of law school for a while and bumming around Asia. Naturally I’ve been hoping for a free billet in South India.”
    â€œ ‘Husbands and wives shouldn’t be apart’! What kind of reactionary talk is that for an academic woman of this decade? And which lover are you up to now? I’ve lost count!’
    â€œAs a matter of sad fact, I’m between lovers. That’s not the point. You are my link with stability and the middle class. What else is an older sister for? You and David are my living proof that perfection and permanence are attainable.”
    â€œOh David is perfect, of course. I just add milk every morning for instant happy marriage.”
    â€œHe’s damn well very close to perfect. You can take my word for it, based on extensive and disappointing experience. I’m serious though. If you and David ever split up it would really unhinge me. Please keep that in mind when you’re making any major decisions.”
    â€œYou’re a great comfort to me, Annie.”
    â€œOh well. Ever your admiring sister. Listen, I can’t afford to prolong this call. I’m so glad you’ll be in the south. I already have friends I can stay with in Delhi and Pondicherry. I’ll send a postcard when I’m coming. I won’t be any bother. Have sleeping bag, will arrive. Love to David and the kids.”
    I will write to both of them, Juliet decided. To Annie and to Jeremy. I need to catch hold of my own life before it slithers into the underbrush.
    She would visit the woman who lived in the forest beyond the paddy. She asked herself uncertainly: She was real, wasn’t she?

5
    Back at the house Miranda was scraping out the flesh of a coconut and Jonathan was shaking rice across the mesh pannier the way fossickers sift river silt for gold. Patiently he picked out grit and pebbles and dead insects.
    Juliet made the curry paste, grinding leaves and berries and shredded coconut between the stone roller and stone slab. Over the fire the chicken was bubbling fragrantly in coconut milk and spices when Jonathan called: “Someone coming! Shivaraman Nair and some other men.”
    They peered out through the grille. Four men were visible in the distance, their crisp white dhotis and shirts flashing against the early evening shadows as they followed the winding path through the coconut trees. They all carried black umbrellas and the effect was rather comic; like a small congregation of somewhat portly penguins coming to the door.
    â€œ Namaskaram. ” Juliet bowed slightly over her