Strength to Say No (7 page)

From then on she raised Pinky and her other children by herself. She works with my sister in the brick factory. All day long the women dig clay with their bare hands and make bricks using a mould marked with the name of the owner, going back and forth over several hundred metres to dry them in the sun. Pinky and I first struck up a friendship during these school outings. She knows a lot of things, but her reserved manner makes her seem rather stand-offish. She doesn't have many friends, and very few children like to play
with her. During playtime she stays by herself in a corner of the yard.

Arjun, the head teacher, calls us together and asks us to be sure to be at school the next week. I expect another school outing to the museum.

When I get back home the subject of marriage is the centre of the conversation again. The son of one of my uncles has asked to marry me. Ma tries to convince me to meet him.

‘He's a relative and is ready to accept the dowry that we're offering.'

‘I don't care where he comes from and what he's ready to accept. I don't want to get married, and that's final!'

‘Don't be selfish. Think of your family. You think that your father can keep on working in these conditions? His back hurts constantly and he has trouble breathing because of inhaling tobacco for years, and he does all that to feed you. Do you realize the sacrifices that he has been making all this time?'

‘I'll help him. I'm quite willing to work after school so that he can make his daily quota of cigarettes.'

‘You understand nothing, my girl. You cost us too much, and if we don't get you married while you are young and attractive nobody else will want you.'

‘I don't want to get married, do you hear me? I am enrolled at the school, and I intend to keep going there!'

‘You're not the one who decides! The Kalindis all marry at your age. If you want to keep on studying you can sort that out with your husband. Our duty as parents is to find you a husband before it's too late.'

‘I don't want to get married!'

The conversation breaks down into yelling. My father interrupts us: ‘Stop carrying on like that, both of you! Do you want the whole village to hear you?'

‘Your daughter is stubborn and doesn't understand her luck in having so many marriage offers. She's only thinking of herself and her blasted school. As if food was free! I told you that enrolment at the school was a bad idea, but you didn't listen to me. This is the result. You can deal with it. And then you can go and explain to your nephew that he can't marry your daughter Rekha, because according to the latest news she's the one who decides not you!'

‘Be reasonable, Rekha, this marriage offer is a chance for you. You ought to seize it, both for your own good and also for the good of your family. Think of your brothers and sisters, please,' whispers my father in an affectionate tone.

‘I don't care! I want to go on learning and working at my studies. That's what you advised me to do not so long ago. Remember?'

‘Yes, but that was temporary. We sent you to school while we were waiting for you to find a husband. Now you don't need to study any more.'

‘Temporary? But you know how difficult school is! I am one of the best in the class, and you want me to abandon everything just because a boy who doesn't even know me wants a wife in his house?'

‘When I married your mother I didn't know her either. That didn't prevent us from starting a family …'

‘A family that you have trouble feeding! Is that the kind of future you want for your children?'

I went off in the direction of my uncle's house, taking the maze of paths among the dried-mud houses to cover my tracks. I pushed the little metal door, praying that it wouldn't squeak as it usually did. I climbed the half-built stairs while avoiding meeting my uncle's in-laws. I settled down on the big concrete terrace where I couldn't be seen. From above I gazed at the well outside the house. One after the other the women went there to draw buckets of water. Some children filled used oil cans. In the distance the workers were digging in their fields. I envied the young boy who was digging near his father. He at least seemed to be master of his own destiny. Down below I saw my uncle's mother-in-law. Her arms looked like chicken legs. She had only a thin layer of flesh on her bones, but in spite of that she worked the earth of the garden to plant some tomatoes. Since she was a widow she lived with my uncle, and to thank him for his hospitality she makes herself useful all day long. My uncle seized an incredible opportunity when he bought a large plot of land adjoining his house. In theory the well belongs to him, but he lets the villagers use it so that they won't have to walk several kilometres to get water. His generosity is very much appreciated in Bararola.

I hid away on the terrace as the sun went down. I wondered how long I would have to reject the marriage offers that were pouring in. I went to sleep, but my uncle woke me up to suggest coming to the room downstairs. For fear that I would fall over the side he helped me get down the stairs without a guardrail.

The next day I went straight to school without going to our house. It was out of the question to meet my mother, who I imagined must be furious with me. When I got home after
school a boy accompanied by his parents was in the house. My mother introduced them to me. I understood what was being plotted and when they asked me what I thought of the young man I didn't answer.

‘Are you sure she agrees?' asked the boy's mother.

‘Yes, yes!' replied my mother. ‘She is shy and reserved, but we spoke to her yesterday. She knows what she ought to do …'

I hid out in a corner of the yard, my legs doubled up against my stomach.

‘And how old is she?' the mother asked.

‘She's coming up for ten. She is very gifted, you know. We've sent her to school so that she will be educated, and she's top of the class. Her teachers are very proud of her. They say that she is much more intelligent than the other pupils.'

‘Ah! Very good! Nowadays children should go to school. It's very useful …'

I wonder how this woman can know what is said or done in a school – especially as I suspect that her son has never set foot in one.

‘I don't know how to cook, and I don't like children,' I say in a cold and determined tone.

‘Oh yes?' replies the mother sharply. ‘But you are going to learn, I'm sure of it …'

‘I don't think so. I eat very little, and neither my older sister nor my mother has taught me.'

‘She exaggerates. She lacks confidence in herself,' my mother says, trying to reassure the other woman. ‘She has taken care of her brothers and sisters since she was quite small … I know what she's worth. She's very gifted.'

‘Yes, she seems gifted, but my problem is that she's too dark
… You see? Compared with my son, who is lighter … How much is the dowry? I mean, bearing in mind this difference in skin colour?'

I continued to listen to this discussion – or, rather, negotiation, I should say – that was all about me. I felt that Ma wanted a firm commitment on their part. That's enough. I couldn't bear this masquerade any longer. I got up and headed for the young man, who must have been be five or six years older than I.

‘You know the story of Kishalaya?'

‘No. What is it?'

‘He's a brahmin who frees a tiger from its cage and makes it promise not to eat him in exchange for its freedom. It's a traditional tale of Bengal, but never mind. You know how to sing Baul?'

‘No.'

‘I am always chosen to perform the Indian national anthem and the traditional songs of Bengal. Do you know that most children's diseases are spread by mosquito bites?'

‘No, I didn't know that.'

‘I learned all that at school, just as I learned the importance of hygiene, reading and mathematics, and I can't see myself abandoning all that to marry you!'

With that I turned on my heel and went back into the room where the parents were still arguing about the wedding and the dowry.

‘Your son is an idiot! I won't marry him whatever my parents say!'

I knew that my parents were going to be embarrassed and get a bad reputation, but I couldn't see any other way to get me
out of this trap. The family went away. My mother gave me a furious look, and my father took the villagers back home, all the time offering profuse apologies.

As soon as I enter the gate of the school I feel a sense of liberation. I know that here I am protected by my teachers. They are the ones who taught us that in spite of our ages we can refuse to go along with our parents' plans. I feel like asking for advice from Atul, the teacher, but I decide against it, thinking that my parents have understood the lesson and that it's not worth embarrassing them any more by letting the incident reach the ears of the teachers. Arjun drops in on the class to remind us that everyone should be present next Friday and that no one should leave the class before he has finished his talk. We try to find out what he is going to say to us, but he won't say a word. He simply states that it's important and that he wants to see all of us on that day.

After the class I had no wish to go back home, where remonstrations very probably awaited me. I went off to Afsana's and we played the tag game of
kho kho
until my little brother came to get me.

The telephone rings inside the house, and Ma hands it to me. it's my cousin Sathya, the daughter of my paternal aunt, and she wants to speak to me. She is about the same age as my big sister, and we understand each other particularly well. I've sometimes spent several days at my aunt's in her little hamlet, which is an hour from us by bus. The whole family makes rattan furniture, and the men then sell it at the market. Sathya tells me that her cousin would very much like to come with his parents
to meet me. I am astonished by this request. If she wants to come to pay us a visit, she knows very well that she's welcome.

‘Why are you talking to me about your cousin?'

‘He would like to marry you. We've learned that your parents want you to marry, and he is interested.'

I reply that she must have misunderstood because I do not intend to get married. It's not worth the trip because my answer will be identical even if he is standing in front of me. I will not change my mind. I ring off and hand the telephone back to my mother. I don't say a word. She has obviously heard everything.

I understood that my parents had the firm intention of getting me married, most likely before the next winter. Ma is too busy nursing my brother Tapan to work in the rice paddies any more. Baba no longer manages to earn enough money. The price of food is going up, and we have to drink the water that rice was boiled in. It is becoming more and more difficult to go on like this. Are my parents right? Must I ease out of the family environment and leave room for my younger brothers and sisters? I feel guilty that I was ever born.

On Friday Arjun drops in on each of the classes. He asks the teachers if anyone is missing. Some pupils are absent; but not to worry – Arjun gets on his bike and visits each of the families with a truant child.