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Friday October 13, 2006

TRIAL BY FIRE

By Jeyakanthan
Translated from Tamil by Mr. Ananda Sundaresan

It has been raining on and off since the afternoon . . .

It is now evening and the students from the women's college were gathered - like a rainbow displaying its colors - in a nearby busstation desperately waiting for buses to take them home.

A privileged few stopped the cars and even helped their close friends to ride with them. A gray college van that regularly carried the students to distant parts of the city was soon on its way. For nearly half an hour the scene echoed to the sounds of car horns, laughter and murmurs from students with occasional interruptions by thunder; then, after half an hour past five, a few students, numbering less than twenty -with less than a dozen umbrellas to protect them - were still left in the downpour; they huddled together and sought refuge under a tree next to the busstation.

It was a part of the city where traffic was sparse and the neighborhood was dotted with bungalows amidst vast gardens full of trees, leaving no haven in the rain; the girls have been waiting for a long time looking forward to board designated buses to carry them to different destinations; they stood with their books tightly held to their bosoms - even as they tried to protect their upper garments and saris from the incessant rain .. . .

A bus was heard coming from around the street corner. .

"Hi, the bus is coming!" The students uttered in one voice.

The bus - that diesel monster - screeched to a halt after splashing the stagnant water on either side of the street.

"Bye . . .bye . . ."

"See you . . ."

"Cheeriyo!" The conductor gave the whistle.

The bus, like a ravenous giant, swallowed half of the waiting crowd, bellowed, and

departed.

Only a dozen students were now left in the bus stand.It was the rainy reason, daylight and darkness were intruding into one another. A cycle rickshaw came along the street with its driver in a rain coat; he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a stray bull that came from nowhere and which he tried to ward off with his warning bell that produced only mild chimes; the bull refused to budge and the driver started venting his anger against the animal in some profane outburst with no regard to the girls in the vicinity. After a while, when he was long gone from their view, the girls recalled his vulgar epithets and reacted with glee and suppressed laughter . .

Nothing interesting happened for a long time after that; their legs aching from the long wait on the wet ground, the girls were feeling irritated and bored by the total silence around them.The bus was nowhere to be seen.The stray bull was still standing in the middle of the street; it was an old bull with one of his horns curved and almost touching the forehead.The rain splashed his back and scattered all around in droplets while washing the animal's yellowish underbelly on both sides and trickled down along two thick dents. And every now and then a part of the bull's body - mostly the area above the right thigh - was shivering in the cold weather.

How long can you watch an old bull with interest? A young girl, who was in every way an exception to the rest of the crowd, sighed and raised her head; she heard the sound of a bus approaching the street corner.The bull now moved aside to let the bus pass by and walked across the street to approach the platform where the students waited; the bull too stood close to them as if begging for some room.

"Hi, this is my bus!" - the eldest among the crowd, now acting childlike, jumped with joy.

"Bye . . .bye .."

"See you . . . ."

After that bus left, only two students are now left on the platform. One of them is the

young girl already referred to. The other seems like a typical college student, elder to her; it was she who offered protection to the younger girl with her umbrella. The younger girl doesn't look like a college student at all; she seem  more like a high school student. Her very appearance reveals she is not from a well-to-do family; she wore a green pavadai with a matchless blouse - it was made out of her mother's discarded old sari - and an upper garment that almost faded and left an indeterminate red shade; a patch-work of necklace made from a few cheap black beads sewn together with a cotton thread adorned her neck and was held in place with a press button. She had a pair of club-shaped ear rings - and one of them was missing the stud. Her eyes sparkled with a glow and innocence and seemed to proclaim that her face could do without cosmetics or jewelry . . .

She reminded one of an unadorned, virginal flower possessing a beauty and elegance uncommon among many of those priceless gifts; now, as she stood there in open space drenched in rain, her legs, long exposed to cold weather and growing pale and while , looked like a pair of ivory carvings; her feet, trembling in the cold and growing numb, forced her to crouch, with her upper garment and the blouse sticking to her small, wet frame, while her face was graceful like that of a temple deity. She was a

beauty to behold; she could easily turn on men to grab and possess her . . . .. . .

"There is no bus . . what time is it?" she asked the other girl with the

umbrella.

"It is almost six," the elder one replied in a low spirited voice, and glanced at a bus now approaching them. "If it is my bus, I should be gone"

She began folding her umbrella.

"That's fine, the rain has now stopped. I should be getting my bus too. There is one leaving the terminus at five forty five. If it is my bus, I too can go home." She spoke as if she was trying to ease the elder's concern, her voice sounding sweet and her mood appearing childlike; the elder girl grew fond of her, touched her cheeks, and said: "Be a nice girl and go home!" She gave her a parting kiss with her fingers.

Two buses came along, . . . one after another. The elder one took the first bus.

"Bye . . .bye . "

"Thank you! My bus is also here!" She bade farewell to her friend but felt only disappointment after checking the number on the second bus. The driver of that bus watched the change in the girl's facial expression and understood she was not waiting for this one; he did not even care to stop because there were no other passengers waiting for a bus.

She was now alone, all by herself; the bull stood there, next to her, as the only companion. Afar, in the college campus, there was some semblance of human activity. Suddenly, darkness came down like a curtain, followed by a strong wind that shook the tree branches lining the street and let water droplets fall on the ground. The girl took refuge under a tree. The rain which had abated a few minutes ago now resumed in full vigor. She tried to run across the street and go back to the college campus, when a huge car ran into her and suddenly came to a standstill, after barely scraping her; the sudden brake made the car swing gracefully in the front as well as in the rear. She cast her eyes on the beautiful car - from its rear end to the front driver's seat, in awe. The driver - a young man with an attractive face - smiled at her, bent down on the left hand side, and opened the door of the rear seat.

"Please get in . . . I can drop you at your place," he said and let his eyes

devour her, just like her eyes did to his car.

The girl felt her ear lobes and nose flush with red. "No, thanks, " she replied. "The rain will soon stop, and I will catch a bus home."

"Oh, it is all right! . . . get in!" he was pressuring her. She was still

standing in the rain and he did everything short of dragging her into the car with his own hand . . .

She let her eyes wander back to the tree where she sought refuge a few minutes ago. Now that space has been taken over by that old bull . .

The car door in front of her was still open. As she felt the rain water creeping its way

into the car in a blast, she tried to close the door, and felt the driver's hand firmly press on hers. Horrified, she pulled it back and looked at him. The young man was smiling. What a pleasant smile it was!And now he too got out of the car and was now standing in the rain . . .

"Um . . . get in."

Now she could not refuse his invitation . . .

As soon as she got into the car, his hand shut the door tight as if confining her to a

prison. The car glided on the road as if surfing on a wavy sea.Her eyes roved across inside the car. A blue fan mesmerized her eyes as if luring her into a dreamy world. The warmth she now felt around her proved a welcome change to her body long exposed to the cold weather. She didn't feel the car was running on ground; it seemed to be floating above the ground . . . .

"How wide are the car seats!" she wondered. "One can even easily sleep on them." She felt she ought to show a better taste especially because she was now sitting there in a corner with her books still held against her bosom; slowly she deposited the books and her lunch box on the seat and eased herself comfortably to make her posture seem a little more imposing and dignified.

"This car itself looks like a house; with a car like this one would not even need a house. He - this gentleman - probably owns a house, how big will that be? Will it be like a palace? With lots of servants? And who will be living in that palace? I don't know anything about him .. .. Now, what is this thing right here in the middle? If I pulled it between two seats it comes up like a table; one can do reading, writing, or even sleeping -two people can easily lie on it, with their heads on either side. And, this small lamp! It is so beautiful! It is shaped like a lotus bud, . . . . .. no, it rather looks like a jasmine bud! I would like to see it glow . . . but what if the gentleman gets mad at me!"

" . . . . . there is a switch below . . . can you see it?" he asked her even as

he was driving the car and casually watched her from the rear mirror.
She switched on and admired the lamp glow brightly; then she shut it off fearing it might consume too much power Then she became conscious of herself; with her two hands she tried to squeeze water trickling down the top of head.

"Hm . .why did I wear this damn upper garment today?" she cursed herself and tried to hold the tip of the garment and squeeze it dry. She heard something snap open; the young man was just opening with his left hand a small compartment next to the steering wheel; she was thrilled to see a small red lamp glowing inside it, as he took out a small Turkish towel, and handed over to her.

"Thanks!" As she helped herself first to dry her hair, arms and hands, and then her face, she was pleasantly overwhelmed with the aroma emanating from the towel; she savored the smell by pressing her face even harder into it.

The car was now making a turn around a street corner and she suddenly lost her balance; frightened, she could only exclaim 'Mother!" while her books as well the round, stainless steel lunch box rolled over from the seat.

"Sorry, . . ." the young man now smiled at her. He slowed down and continued to drive at a reduced speed. The young girl was a little embarrassed at her own reaction; she quickly gathered her books now scattered all around, and eased herself into a comfortable position.

Nothing was visible through the car windows because they were covered by a layer of smoke-like moisture; she wiped the window clean with the tip of her upper garment, and looked out.

The street lights were now aglow; along the way, images of well decorated shops were seen reflected in the pools of stagnant water on the streets. She had heard people talk about a world underground. Could this be something like that?

Why is the car going on this street?

"Oh my god! My house is on the other side . ." her lips grumbled in a whisper.

"That is fine, who says no?" the young man too grumbled in a low voice, and smiled at her.

"This is certainly no fun," the girl told herself and nervously played with her

hands. Because she was aware he was watching her, she kept smiling to keep him in good humor.

The car sped on.

It soon emerged out of the city's busy commercial district, passed along the wide lanes dotted by huge, tall buildings and avenues lined with beautiful bungalows and magnificent gardens, before turning into a trunk road away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

While a car ride in a hostile weather was a new experience and certainly thrilled her, it also stirred a vague fear deep inside her and caused some heartache.

But she could not bring herself to act like a child and keep pestering him that she be

taken home at once.

She now remembered the girl who saw her off at the bus stand, and her parting words as she fondly touched her cheeks: "Be a nice girl and go home!"

"Have I become a foolish girl?" she pondered. "Is it not wrong for a single girl to get into a stranger' car? He does not seem like a bad guy, still I should have never agreed to go with him! No, I should not cry! If I cry he may get

mad at me and drop me off somewhere and go on his way! How can I ever go home? I will never be able to find the way on my own! Tomorrow I have to submit my zoology record . . . . I have lot of work to do ..."

Her eyes were riveted on the opposite glass panel and the windshield wipers which seemed to be struggling, just like herself. Unaware of herself she was able to muster courage and ask him: "Tell me, where are we going?" The question had shot up like an arrow, but the young man was calm as he replied: "We are not going anywhere; we are just taking a drive!"

"It is getting late! My mother would be searching for me!"

"Okay, we will return!"

The car reversed the direction. It veered off from the trunk road and entered a huge, open meadow, where it traveled a considerable distance before coming to a halt. The surrounding areas, so far as one could discern, seemed to be virtually under the command of rain and darkness. The place seemed like a jungle from nowhere with frogs croaking on top of their voices and the rain and wind turning even more violent and ferocious.

It was pitch-dark inside the car; the driver as well as the passenger couldn't see each other's face.  The girl was frightened by the car stopping suddenly. "Why has the car stopped? Any breakdown?" she asked, her voice mixed with concern and fear. He gave no reply, and burst into a loud laughter. He wished to see her face and pushed the radio button; instantly a faint light followed by light music beamed from the radio. In the dim light around them the girl was grinning and narrowing her eye brows and nervously regarding him; he, on the other hand, was smiling and seemed to be begging her for some favor.

A trumpet blared from the car radio growing louder with a ferocious intensity and was soon followed by 'Congo Drums' whose sound and rhythm seemed to echo the heartbeat of a frightened soul. The young man listened with his head swinging in tune with the music while snapping his fingers in accord with its beat and rhythm. He turned to the girl and asked if she liked the music. She smiled and nodded her head in

agreement without even parting her lips. He now opened a box next to the radio and took out two Cadbury chocolates and gave one to her. She studied him with fascination as he unwrapped the chocolate from one end - he didn't take off the whole thing - and then casually chewed the small pieces, one after another. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, comfortably laid back, with his other hand tapping the seat in resonance with the music coming from the rear.

He was certainly handsome and good looking, she thought. He was tall, his white dress seemed to fit him nicely, and when seen in that dim light even his dark complexion was vaguely attractive - she remembered the majesty of a vicious snake. Viewed from the rear his left eye was only partly visible within her angle of vision, and it shone brightly. So did, in that dim light, his hair, dense and closely cropped, seemingly immune to disarray even in a storm, and the lush growth of hair near the ears. When glancing at him sideways she felt his face would look even more attractive if he sported a thin mustache. And those eye brows! They looked so determined, twisting up and down, and down right menacing! She noticed the heavy watch with a golden strap on his left arm that lay stretched on the rear seat close to her, and could read the time as seven from the luminous dial. His thin long fingers were still tapping to the rhythm of the music, and the thin hair on his forearms seemed to shudder to the cold from outside.

"My god, it is seven!" She stopped chewing the chocolate while calmly watching him, and screamed aloud. He too checked the watch following her sudden outburst.

It was only when he opened the front door that the young man was able to notice the heavy downpour outside. He immediately got out of the car.

"Where ? . . . . " her question, mixed with anxiety and fear, resonated in his ears even after he closed the door behind him: "Where are you going?"

He was heavily drenched in the rain. "I am not going anywhere . I am coming over ...", he replied, opened the rear seat door and entered the car.

He sat next to her, took out from the seat the small Turkish towel he had given her a

short while ago, and washed his face and hair. He crushed the chocolate wrapper in his hand and threw it out. The girl was still chewing the candy. He took out yet another small candy pack from his pocket and helped himself with a piece and offered her one.

"What is it?"

"Chewing gum!"

"No . . . I don't want it!"

"Try . . .you will like it!"

She hastily finished eating the chocolate piece and reluctantly extended her hand to

accept the gum from him.

"Here it is, " he said, and refusing to hand it over to her, brought the gum

close to her lips and gently caressed them with it.

She felt a pleasant burning sensation all over her body; she retraced a few steps away from him and accepted the gum from his hands, saying: "Thank you!"

His two eyes were caught up with hers; she felt too shy to stare at him and struggled hard to shift her glance downwards over and over again, even as she was aware that his two knees were drawing close to her.

She looked through the glass window. Outside, in the dark, rain and wind were playing havoc with each other. She edged close to that window door and sought refuge there; he respectfully moved away from her, put his arms around his chest, and eagerly tried to probe her mind . .

"How do you like this car?" His voice, begun in a dry ritualistic tone gradually became an intimate and private whisper that disturbed her.

She remained calm, and replied: "Oh, it is very nice!"

He seemed lost in some deep thoughts, sighed, lowered his head, and then spoke: "Do you know this car has been roaming after you - every day - for the last two years? Do you know that?" As he raised his head to look

at her, she felt overwhelmed by his compliment - it was as if that gentleman had just placed a crown on head.

"Really?"

"Really!"

His heavy breathing now warmed her hair. His intimate voice now caressed her mind and shook her heart: "Do you like me?"

"Hm . . ." Because she felt trapped and still desperately wanted to get away from him, he again politely withdrew from her.

Outside, it was still raining. The trumpet from the car radio was now playing music with new rhythm and beat.

"You like it here, don't you?" He was trying to gauge her mood in the atmosphere around them as well as her feelings towards him.

"I like it . . . but I am also afraid . . . ."

"Afraid? Why? Why should you be afraid?" As he tried to shake her shoulder to comfort her, she felt her innate modesty shaken, and gently

spoke her mind: "I am really afraid . . . . This is all new to me . . . ."

' Why do I need all these introductions?' He grumbled to himself. He now made up his mind not to retreat in his plans, and approached her again.

"May I kiss you?"

She didn't know what to say. She was tongue-tied; her face sweated even in that cold weather.

She felt her ear lobes, cheeks and lips suddenly exposed to scorching heat, and as she felt herself trapped in his hands and writhed in pain amid her cries of " please . . please", he grew fanatical and continued to assault her . . . .

Soon, her cries grew fainter and stopped. As if seeking vengeance, her hands were now entwined around his neck.

Outside, the sky seemed torn apart. Lightning struck pell-mell. Thunder echoed far and near. That lightning must have hit somewhere!

"I want to go home! My god, my mother will be searching for me!"

He opened the car rear door and got out. His shoes were caught in the swampy ground, and as he raised one of them, some of the mud fell on the car and soiled it. Through the open door a few water drops fell inside the car and also on the girl.

Because she was deeply hurt in body and mind, the girl was crying - in silence - without his knowledge- fighting the tide of tears overpowering her.

He returned to his driver seat and threw his muddy shoes out of the car window. Then he opened the compartment next to the radio and took out a cigarette, and lit it. He also kept on chewing a gum.

The girl's heart, mind, body and feelings were now enmeshed in a panic, but a sense of urgency hovered over them. She desperately wished she could be home at once so that she could seek her mother's warmth, cry out in one long stretch and pour out all her hurt feelings; that would be the only way to find some emotional comfort following the gross violence now meted out to her.

But he seemed calm, smoking a cigarette, and this irritated her. Her confinement inside the car made her feel as if she was trapped between two huge rocks in a cave; she felt fear as well as disgust, and added to these was the cigarette smell that churned her stomach; she felt the grimy, marshy soil splash all over her body and defiling her . . . . .

She now detested the trumpet music from the radio-it was like a jasckal barking in dark over an empty wilderness, hacking her body into pieces . .

She screamed aloud in an angry mood seemingly beyond her: "Are you going to take me home or not?"

He suddenly shut off the radio, and warned her: "Don't shout like that!"

She joined both her hands in a respectful gesture and desperately begged him. "My mother would be looking for me! Please take me home, and I will be ever thankful to you!" Deep in her heart she was blaming herself:

"I acted really stupid. I should have never come with him! All these terrible things have now taken place! What a horror!" She felt profound guilt

over what she did; she gnashed her teeth wishing she could go out and kill herself by dashing her head against some hard rock; her appearance at that moment frightened the young man.

"Please . . . don't make a scene!" He begged her and reversed the car in frustration.

The car sped along the streets with its bright lights illuminating the darkness around.

"What a pity!" he lamented to himself. "If she was unwilling , why didn't she say so in the first place? I have wasted a nice evening! Poor girl!

I will be damned if I knew what girls like her are going to learn from a college

education! And she is still crying!" He turned to her and offered an apology: "I am sorry . . . please forgive me if I hurt your feelings."

He wanted to leave her at her home, forget the whole episode, and get some peace of mind; he pushed down the accelerator.

It was still raining.

The car crossed the silent trunk road, passed along the avenues with the beautiful

bungalows and magnificent gardens, and then sped on the wide lanes dotted by big tall buildings, before entering the city's main commercial district; it finally entered a narrow street and was heading toward the girl's house.

He slackened the car speed thinking the girl would demand that she be dropped and let go at some point before their final destination; but she seemed too naive for such an afterthought, so he stopped the car somewhere on their way, and informed her of his decision:

" . . . . I am not supposed to take you all the way home; you have to get off right

here . . ". He even felt sorry and moved by her looks. He felt guilty and his heart rankled as if he was indebted to her in some way. His conscience pricked, his eyes seemed to gather a few spurious tears that were shining . . Like a servant he opened the car door for her and stood in the rain.

The girl, her emotions frozen, gathered her books, searched out her circular, metallic lunch box from under her car seat, emerged from the car and stood on the street, her eyes still averting him as she bowed her head down.

Because of the rain there was little traffic on that narrow lane. As he now noticed her

little figure in the dim street light afar, he reproached himself for his action - but only in the inner depths of his mind. It was his unbridled freedom, he thought, that drove him to act like a rotten, mean spirited slave.

"Yes . . . I am a slave, a slave to my own passions." he thought. Then he

whispered to her: "I am sorry!"

She raised her head and stared at him. What a look it was!

She tried to say something, her lips quivered. He could only murmur "What?" but felt his voice choking.

"Nothing . ,." she replied and moved away.

As the red car sped ahead of her, its rear red light moved faster and merged into the

darkness.

******

The hurricane lamp in the front room had been extinguished by the gusty wind; mother, busy in the kitchen, happened to notice the room darken. As she relit the lamp and hung it over, she noticed from the wall clock that the time was already half past seven; mortified, she turned around, and then noticed the young girl clamber on the steps.

The girl's very appearance - she was fully drenched, and her clothes were in total disarray - appalled her; she felt her stomach churn, and asked: "Why is this mess?"

The girl ambled her way to the front room like a statue, and stood passively under the

hurricane lamp. Tears were overflowing from her eyes.

She could only scream "Mother," and then plunge her head on her mother's shoulder even as she struggled to contain her emotions; she frantically tightened her hands around her and sobbed uncontrollably.

Mother sensed something serious has happened - yet she was ambivalent.

"What happened . . Why so much delay? Tell me . . stop crying!" While she didn't know the actual reason for her daughter's pain - the girl was still in her embrace, with her body squirming like an insect -she too shared her pain

and felt her eyes turn moist; she wiped her eyes with the tip of her sari, warmly patted her back, and inquired: "Why are you crying like this?"

The girl could not bring herself to stare into her mother's eyes; she nestled her head on mother's shoulder and spoke slowly. As she stopped crying and began to speak up, the mother immediately disentangled herself from the girl, pulled back, and watched her in disgust as if eyeing a wretched, cursed soul.

That naive girl was telling her mother: "There was a heavy downpour . . . the bus didn't come . . . that's why I got into the car . . then . . . there was some place like a forest . . . there was nobody around . . . it was dark . . . even if

I wanted to get out of the car and run away from him . . . I couldn't find my way out . . . what could I have done? . . . and then . . . .oh my god, he . . kind of . . . ."

Even before she could finish talking, the girl felt wildly slapped across her ears,

forehead and some other part of the body. She felt butterflies float in air ... She was flung aside to a corner while her books and the lunch box lay scattered all over the room . . .

"You wretch! What have you done!" the mother wanted to scream aloud; she just opened her mouth, but then controlled herself.

A few neighbors in the vicinity - there were four houses in that block - hurried down as they heard some noise from the house.

"What happened?" asked a woman who lived in the rear portion of the block; she lost no time for gossips and was right there in the front room after wiping off her wet hand with the tip of her sari.

"It is nothing . . I can't understand this big hurry. .", mother explained to her. "Why should my daughter come home like this, all wet . . . .fully drenched . . .in this terrible down- pour? I am spending all the money I can afford for her education, what if she falls sick right before the exams?

Fortunately, her brother is not in town, otherwise, he would have taken her to task!

" She indulged in mock complaint.

The lady from the neighborhood did not seem that interested in what was going on. Yet, she could not help commenting, before returning,

"You are right, but does it mean you have to beat her up for something like

this?"

Mother shut down the main door and the front room windows. She then stared at the young girl cast aside on the floor like a kitten; the daughter was not feeling hurt by her mother beating her up; if anything, she wished she was punished even harsher; she lay inert and wished her mother would trample her to death.

"What can I do with her? She has tarnished the reputation of a respectable family! Oh my god, what can I do?" The mother turned her back .

. . .

Flames in the kitchen hearth encircled the logs ...searing them red hot . .

"What if I just unload a pile of that hot stuff over her head?" the mother

thought. She saw the image of her daughter squirming like an insect and being scorched to death.

"But then, what happens next? Will her shame disappear? Oh, my dear! How can I go on living after killing you with my own hands? Should I kill myself too? "

"Hm . . . then? Will this shame disappear? " Mother was confused.

She gathered her daughter's tresses together, then touched her face and gently raised it. She twirled the wick of the hurricane lamp to brighten the surroundings, carried it to where her daughter lay and examined every inch of her body, from head to foot. The girl recoiled with shame and guilt unable to bear such a close scrutiny. "My god, please don't look at me like that!" she screamed, turned her back to her mother, and buried her head into the wall amid

incessant sobs.

"Oh god, only you can punish that scoundrel." The mother silently cursed the anonymous villain to her heart's content. While she felt disgust to even touch her daughter she bore the pain because of her love and a concern that her daughter had nowhere else to go to seek comfort or refuge. "It is my fate!" she sighed, and became deeply aware that anger and punishment would serve no purpose. With the lamp in one hand she gripped the girl's arm with the other and dragged her to the bathroom.

"What am I to do now? . . Can I try to find out the fiend responsible for this

inhuman act? Can I marry her off to him? Oh my god, how can I ever let her live with such an animal for the rest of her life? To kill her in cold blood

would be a more humane thing! What can I do? " Mother's mind was in turmoil.

She made her daughter sit near the bath tub and then carefully set the lamp in a niche of

a nearby wall. She prayed to all the gods in her memory to forgive and purge the shame and dishonor from the naive, innocent soul, who now sat there trembling in cold with her arms held crossing her bosom.

The mother spoke no words and calmly got rid of all the daughter's clothes as she stood there like a statue with eyes closed. She loosened the pig tail hanging below the waist and spread it along her marble back. As the girl sat passively cross-legged, she poured over her head bucketfuls of water from the tub, one after another. Then she applied shampoo to her hair, and inquired in a faint voice:

"Do you happen to know that fellow?"

"No . . . "

"The scoundrel . . . what shall we do with him?" She gnashed her teeth,

spreading her fingers laced with shampoo, her eyes brimming with hatred as if poised for a murder.

"Um . . . whether the banana leaf touches the thorn or the thorn hits the banana

leaf, it's always the banana leaf that gets hurt!" She tried to contain the anger swelling within her, and as if trying to erase the curse weighing heavily upon the young woman, she scrubbed the shampoo even harder. She suddenly remembered her husband who had died leaving her with a two-year old baby, and cried.

"If he were alive . . . thank heavens, he is not around to see these terrible things

happening . . . ."

"My dear child!" she addressed the young girl. "This incident should remain a secret and must never be revealed to anybody, never!

Otherwise, an entire family will be destroyed! Nobody would pause even to think what might happen to their own family if the victim was one of their offspring . . . they will simply treat it like a curse plaguing one generation after another. Of course I am talking about others, but what about my own values? Will I be holding my tongue if this disaster struck another family? No, then my tone will be totally different . . . it has been like that for a while .. . . .to be honest, I had gossiped quite a lot in the past!" She

snatched a towel hanging from the rope that ran across the bathroom and vigorously dried the girl's hair with it. Then she touched her daughter's chin, raised

it to her eye level and fondly kissed the forehead; it was a such a pure, unsullied face shining like a fresh porcelain plate that any adolescent stresses or strains could have hardly corrupted it.

"My dear child, you are now purified! Totally purified!" the mother exclaimed, and continued. "Remember this! What I poured over your head a few minutes ago was not water, it was fire! It has cleansed your body and soul. What you

have gone through is a trial by fire, and you are now as pure as a crystal. Your thoughts were pure and innocent to begin with, so how can anything corrupt your body? I know your mind, but the outside world doesn't! That's why it should never be told about this incident! Why do you keep staring at me like that? . . .Are you thinking we can't keep it away from the public knowledge? Why not? After all what the world knows is only this: you came home in a car with someone!

Nobody would dare say anything beyond that! So remember this, nothing happened! Do you think people will start badmouthing because they saw you coming in a car? Stop worrying about them! I know there is a crowd that is always busy indulging in gossip and spreading all kinds of rumors . . . . But you must never be concerned about them. There is no flaw or blemish in your character, and I am saying this because it is true and I want you to believe it and feel that way deep in your heart . . . . while walking on the streets don't we sometimes accidentally get our feet dirty in some filth? Does it mean we must cut the feet off? No, we can just wash our feet before entering the house and even go to the puja room to say our prayers - and god will not reject us! Would he? So everything depends on one's state of mind . . .one has to keep the mind pure . . do you know the story of Ahalya? She was purged of her sins when the dust from Lord Rama's feet touched her . . Ahalya's mind was not corrupted by any impure thoughts, that's why she was blessed by Rama . . I am saying all this because you shouldn't unnecessarily torture your mind with guilt and remorse . . You must forget this unfortunate incident as a bad dream . . . nothing has happened to you!"

Then she asked the young girl to get dressed with the new, dry clothes hanging on the rope above them.

"What are you chewing in your mouth? What is it?"

"Gum .. ."

"Spit out the damn thing, " mother screamed. "Wash your mouth clean and follow me!" She walked to the puja room.

Mother became emotional as she stood before the altar for a few minutes in total

surrender. She turned to the girl who now joined her, and spoke: " Pray and ask for happiness ... I feel I am also responsible for what happened to you . . . It never occurred to me that as a college student my adolescent daughter is being exposed to the dangers of an outside world . . . . Again, I always see you as a child, but you are no more a child! So . . . . you must forget this . . . no, no . you should not forget this incident

. . you must go ahead in life keeping this incident always in your mind .. You must not discuss this incident with anybody! Period. As far as this matter is concerned, there are no exceptions! You must promise me that you will never mention this to anybody!" As she extended her hand as if protecting her secret, the daughter eagerly placed her hand on the mother's palm, gripped it , and made a solemn promise: "I am promising you . . .

I will tell nobody!"

"I have been telling myself that you are a smart girl because you always get good grades, " the mother answered. " Only now you have become a smart girl. . . and you must continue to be smart . . ." She held the daughter's chin with her other hand and applied sacred ash to her forehead.

The eyes of that young innocent girl shone bright in the aura emanating from the lamp on the altar. It was not just the shadow play that produced splendor; the mother could discern a ripe, mature womanhood reflected in that aura.

Now we see that young girl again on her way to college. Several luxury cars are

crisscrossing through her path, but she scarcely looks at any of them. Occasionally she glances at them-but she is always mindful that neither she nor any car run into one another.