The Sari Shop by Rupa Bajwa Read Free Book Online Page B

a husband by Lord Shiva, she continued with her fasting, afraid of annoying Shiva if she stopped abruptly.
    Ramchand looked forward to the temple excursions with great pleasure. He also thought that his mother was the nicest woman in the whole world. With her, however, he could dare to misbehave more than he could with his father. She wasquick to lose her temper, but was also quick to regain it. Then she’d pick up her son, nuzzle his neck, hug him and kiss him, and call him a precious star. Ramchand often took advantage of his precious-star status.
    At the temple, he would get excited the moment he was surrounded by the jostling, chanting crowds, with the brass bells ringing loudly and the smell of incense, marigold and sandalwood in the air. It would all go to his head and then he’d start to run around in energetic circles, pushing everyone who came in the way. His mother would first snap a warning at him. Her nerves would already be frayed because of hunger and she couldn’t handle Ramchand in such a crowd on an empty stomach. But he usually took no notice of her warning, which was strange, because on most days he was well behaved. It was just the Monday excitement at the temple that made him hyperactive. After a couple of warnings, she’d feel like crying. Why did he go mad in the temple every Monday morning? Then she would give him a couple of tight slaps and he would subside.
    And after being slapped, he would solemnly promise each time not to misbehave next Monday. And he always did misbehave. And got slapped again. It had almost become a matter of routine for both of them.
    Except for these Monday mornings, the small family lived peacefully and was fairly happy. However, soon after Ramchand turned six and started going to an English-medium school for which his father had been saving up, the gunnysack and marigold smells abruptly went away. Ramchand’s parents were killed in a bus accident while going to Haridwar on a pilgrimage. Their bus was overloaded with pious people, and it just toppled over. Ramchand had been left with his grandmother in the family village near Amritsar. The six-year-old Ramchand’s first feeling was that of great astonishment atthe fact that a mere toppling over of things could take all smells away for ever.
    Horror followed later.
    Everyone expected the child to cry and ask for his mother at night, to ask where his father was, or why he wasn’t living in his own home. His grandmother had anxiously framed suitable answers, ready to be used when he asked her any of these questions. But he never did. He became very quiet and resisted all physical contact with the grown-ups around him. He did cry occasionally, but not like a child. His eyes would grow cloudy and tears would trickle slowly down his cheeks. If anyone tried to pick him up or wipe away his tears, he would howl in anger and kick them with his small feet.
    At last, Ramchand was sent back to Amritsar with a distant uncle’s family so that he could go to school. He had never met this uncle before. Uncle worked as a craftsman in a jeweller’s shop. He lived with his family in a one-roomed house too, though they had many more things than Ramchand’s parents had ever possessed. In the room there was a dressing table with some cosmetics on it. There was a wooden cabinet for plates and glasses and they had a steel almirah in which there were hangers for clothes. Ramchand had never seen hangers before. His parents had kept all their clothes folded in a trunk. Everything seemed alien. Uncle’s wife was fat and irritable, and often stayed in bed all day with a chunni tied tightly around her head, complaining of a headache. She had two children of her own, both boys, younger than Ramchand. When she was in bed with a headache, her wrath descended on anyone who dared to make a noise and disturb her. Often, when one of the children made a slight noise, she would rush and slap all the three children hard, once on each cheek and then go back