Tikkipala Read Online Free PDF

George, in the passenger’s seat shouted noisy encouragement.
    Sangita feared that Paul expected the same from her, but she could not do it. She only winced down into her seat, tried to keep her face shrouded with her palu and begged Lord Shiva to prevent any one she knew from recognising her.
    It was better when they got out of the town. Here in the countryside she started to feel safer.
    â€˜Hang on, Sangita?’ shouted Paul over the roar of the engine and the wind in her ears. ‘I’m going to put my foot down.’
    After half an hour Sangita’s eyes began to sting from the dust and when she closed her mouth her teeth scrunched with grit. Sometimes she dared to peep at Paul and saw that his English skin was growing scarlet and that the whites of his eyes were blood shot.
    â€˜I think you should pull down the hood,’ she shouted.
    â€˜What?’
    She gestured to the folded roof. ‘You will get sun burn.’ Already his face streamed with dusty sweat.
    He had to stop at the road side to get it down in the end. The hood of the new car was still in its wrappings. Daisy and George, their hood up already, rushed by with shouts of triumph.
    When Paul got the car started again, all they could see of George and Daisy, was a scarlet puff of dust half a mile away.
    Leaning into the windscreen, baring his teeth like a warrior about to launch into battle, Paul pulled out the throttle and thrust his little car forwards, in the direction he presumed Daisy had taken. He was talking, but Sangita could not hear what he said over the sound of the engine and the wind in her ears, which was very loud even with the hood down.
    She liked the sound of his voice. She leant back against the seat, closed her eyes and shutting out all other thoughts, concentrated on now.
    Later she would worry about getting back to the palace by six, worry about the questions her husband would ask her, ‘I hope you were not alone with any man. I hope you kept your body modestly covered throughout the day, even when playing tennis games.’ She pulled off the palu of her sari and let the wind bathe her hot shoulders. Paul was English so would not know that this was an immodest thing to do.
    â€˜I said, isn’t this fun?’ roared Paul, putting his mouth close to her ear.
    The car swerved and nearly went into a paddy field.
    She felt his hot breath on her ear. It stirred her hair. She caught the whiff of his aftershave lotion. It smelled of English lavender.
    Then something shaky happened inside her, as though her heart was being tickled.
    â€˜Yes,’ she shouted back. ‘But where is Daisy’s car? Do you think we’ve taken the wrong road?’
    After ten more minutes Paul shouted, ‘There,’ and began to pursue a dust puff on the horizon but when they reached it, it turned out to be a pony cart with an Indian family of about fifteen people squashed in.
    An hour later they still had got no glimpse of Daisy’s car.
    Paul drew into the roadside and stopped. As far as the eye could see, in all directions, was only scrub, dotted with a very occasional paddy field. Far away stood a small group of primitive straw huts. Apart from that there was no sign of human life at all.
    â€˜You live here. Do you know where we are, Sangita?’
    Sangita winced. ‘I have never been into this part of the country in my life. We have no need.’
    â€˜I’m damned hungry,’ groaned Paul. ‘And Daisy’s got the picnic. Perhaps there’s some kind of village nearby where we could buy a sandwich.’
    â€˜I should doubt it,’ laughed Sangita. ‘The people here have never heard of sandwiches, I bet.’
    â€˜Well…’ he hunted around in his mind for something Indian instead. ‘A chapatti then. Or anything,’ as Sangita shook her head still laughing. She was becoming filled with a sense of not caring. Perhaps she and Paul would stay like this forever, their