The God of Small Things - Get a Free Blog

never hits. Hardly ever.”
“How can he hit if he‟s dead?” Estha asked reasonably.
“Where‟s your dad?” Sophie Mol wanted to know.
“He‟s…” and Rahel looked at Estha for help.
“…not here,” Estha said.
“Shall I tell you my list?” Rahel asked Sophie Mol.
“If you like,” Sophie Mol said.
“Rahel‟s `list” was an attempt to order chaos. She revised it
constantly, torn forever between love and duty. It was by no means
a true gauge of her feelings.
“First Ammu and Chacko,” Rahel said. “Then Mammachi-”
“Our grandmother,” Estha clarified.
“More than your brother?” Sophie Mol asked.
“We don‟t count,” Rahel said. “And anyway he might
change. Ammu says.”
“How d‟you mean? Change into what?” Sophie Mol asked.
“Into a Male Chauvinist Pig,” Rahel said.
“Very unlikely,” Estha said.
“Anyway, after Mammachi, Velutha, and then–”
“Who‟s Velutha?” Sophie Mol wanted to know.
“A man we love,” Rahel said. “And after Velutha, you,”
Rahel said “Me? What d‟you love me for?” Sophie Mol said.
“Because we‟re firstcousins. So I have to,” Rahel said piously.
“But you don‟t even know me,” Sophie Mol said. “And anyway, I
don‟t love you.”
“But you will, when you come to know me,” Rahel said
confidently.
“I doubt it,” Estha said.
“Why not?” Sophie Mol said.
“Because,” Estha said. “And anyway she‟s most probably
going to be a dwarf.”
As though loving a dwarf was completely out of the
question.