Homeless Bird by Gloria Whelan Read Free Book Online Page B

quilt?” she asked. “I could take it with me, and if I became homesick, I could bring it out to remind me of you. Put in all the things we have done together.”
    “Your maa is angry with me over the earrings and would never give me cloth for the quilt or money to buy thread.”
    I was wrong. When Chandra went to her, Sass said, “It would not be such a bad thing if your dowry were to include a quilt. Let her make one if it doesn’t keep her from her tasks.”
    I stitched a picture of our little room, the two of us sitting cross-legged on our charpoys with large smiles on our faces. There we were dancing in the rain. There was the river where we went to wash the clothes and the kingfisher that watched us from a tree. There we were sitting together in front of the village television set. I stitched the colors of the fireworks exploding into the sky on Lord Krishna’s birthday and the two of us covered with red powder at the celebration of Holi. I embroidered us having our baths at the well. I put in Sass chatting with her friends in the courtyard and Sassur reading from Tagore’s book of poems. I even put in the cow and the bandicoot. In a moment of mischief I made the border of blossoms from the mango tree. Sass could not scold me for stealing those blossoms, for they were all mine.
    I had to squeeze in the time for the quilt, for there was much to do to prepare for the wedding. The courtyard where the wedding was to take place had to be carefully swept and a ceremonial fire readied. The walls had to be ornamented with a mixture of rice flour and water, which I dribbled through my fingers. I went to the village to buy firewood and food for the wedding feast. I peeled mangoes and chopped cucumbers and onions and mixed the turmeric and coriander for the curry.
    I had to do the stitching of the quilt early in the morning or in the evening when the light was poor, so I went about with a frown from squinting. When at last the quilt was completed, Chandra exclaimed, “Koly, it’s beautiful!” and hugged it to her. Though she tried, even Sass could find no fault with it.
    I had looked forward to helping prepare Chandra on her wedding day, but Sass sent me away. “It is not proper,” she said. “Only those women who are not widowed and have borne a male child are privileged to help.”
    I knew this was the custom; still, I had hoped I might at least be allowed in the room to enjoy the ceremonies. I had to be content with a peek at Chandra when the women were finished with her. Seeing her in my wedding sari, her eyes darkened with kohl, her cheeks and lips rouged, and designs painted on her forehead, was like seeing myself again as I had been almost three years before. For Chandra’s sake I smiled and told her how beautiful she looked, as indeed she did. Inside I was miserable and did not know how I would ever be happy again. My life seemed to be over. What was there to look forward to but years and years of slaving away?
    When the day for the wedding came, Chandra and I hid by the window so that we could get a glimpse of the bridegroom. Led by his male relatives, Raman arrived on a horse covered with a cloth embroidered with small, round mirrors. The mirrors glittered as he rode along, so he looked like he was arriving on a shaft of sunlight. He was tall, with a great deal of wavy black hair and a small mustache.
    “The mustache is like a mouse’s tail,” I said, giggling.
    “It is not!” Chandra said. “It’s a fine mustache.”
    We stretched our heads out the window to get a better view. Just then the bridegroom looked our way. I saw a slight smile hurry across his face as he saw us, and I began to believe Chandra’s marriage might be a good one.
    Sassur greeted the bridegroom with the required perfumed water and mixture of honey and curds. The guests arrived: all the relatives who lived within a day’s drive, Sassur’s fellow teachers, the women who gossiped with Sass in the courtyard and their husbands and