The Splendor Of Silence by Indu Sundaresan Read Free Book Online

He had a need; she fulfilled it. A name to call her by, when he wished to speak during such times, was enough. He did not think anyone else needed to know, so he told no one, and he made sure no one found out.
    He did not encourage Pallavi, after that first tentative alliance, to think of a marriage; selfishly, yes, but also knowing that she was really happy with them. Now Kiran, Mila, and Ashok were all of an age to find their own homes, to make their own happiness in other places, and Pallavi would be equally welcome with any of them, or with him, Raman had thought when Lakshmi died. He had thought ahead to this time.
    Pallavi knew all of this--in her there was no fear of being rendered useless by time or by circumstances. She did not have what were considered normal ambitions for a woman, if a woman could be said to harbor ambitions at all. She was content where she was.
    "Eat your toast," she said to Mila, pointing to the edges scattered on the plate.
    "I'm full," Mila said. "No more. You must think I'm a camel."
    "You are too thin. What man would marry someone ?" Pallavi paused then said, "Never mind. Eat your toast. Get dressed." She shook Mila's white shirt and jodhpurs at her.
    Mila clambered out of bed, and started to unravel her cotton sari. She smiled at Pallavi's frown. "I know it is crumpled, dear Pallavi," she said. "But I slept in this sari; it will crumple, you know."
    "Mine does not."
    "That is because you sleep like a statue; where you lay your head down, a pit forms, for you press down on the pillows all night."
    "And a lady must sleep thus, Mila. How many times have I told you this? You must lie straight, you must not move when you sleep, or move but lightly. A disturbed sleep speaks of a disturbed mind."
    Mila shook her head and refused to answer. She pulled her sari away from her, untied her petticoat, unhooked the buttons of her blouse, and then held out her arms for the sleeves of her white shirt. As she dressed, a peculiar mixture of pride and disapproval grew on Pallavi's round face. Mila could almost see her thoughts written in the air above her well-oile d h ead. So well these English clothes fit her. Makes her look almost like a boy. My Mila is daring and courageous, like a boy. Like a boy? Who wants to look like a boy? She should be wearing a sari. At least it is early, perhaps no one will see her. Raman should not let her go out like this, riding a horse.
    "What is the necessity to ride a horse when it is not necessary to go anywhere on it?" she asked, letting her thoughts spill into words.
    "Because, my dearest Pallavi," Mila said, "it is what elegant people do. I'm going out to eat the air, to refresh myself, to ride with grace and dignity, to kick my heels into the waler and allow it to race on the maidan. More important, to see and be seen."
    "I hope no one sees you like this," Pallavi grumbled, tucking Mila's shirt into the waistband of the jodhpurs. "Like a boy."
    Mila skipped around the room, evading Pallavi's hands. "I can do this."
    "Okay, okay," Pallavi said. "When you come back, you must sit wit h m e while I go through the contents of the storeroom to see what we need from the mandi."
    "Why?" This Mila asked merely for the sake of asking, for the sake of being contrary. Whether it was that she was tired from a lack of sleep, or just antagonized for no reason, she did not know. So she said again, "Why?"
    "You have to learn, Mila. How can you be married without knowing how to run a house? If your mother were here, she would have taught you; now I will teach you." Pallavi's face grew heated.
    "You know I will not need these skills," Mila said obstinately, lines gathering over her eyebrows. She wandered around the room picking up her gloves and her riding whip. "I will have plenty of servants."
    "I know," Pallavi said somberly. "But you must know how to run a house, even if there will be others to take up your duties. The servants will cheat you, charge you more than the market price for