The God of Small Things - Get a Free Blog

tender-mango-shaped secret in a vat. Presided over by a Nowl.
The Red Agenda was worked out and agreed upon:
Comrade Rahel would go for her Afternoon Gnap, then lie
awake until Ammu fell asleep. –
Comrade Estha would find the flag (that Baby Kochamma
had been forced to wave), and wait for her by the river and there
they would:
(b) Prepare to prepare to be prepared.
A child‟s abandoned Fairy Frock (semipickled) stood stiffly
on its own in the middle of Ammu‟s darkened bedroom floor.
Outside, the Air was Alert and Bright and Hot. Rahel lay
next to Ammu, wide awake in her matching airport knickers. She
could see the pattern of the cross-stitch flowers from the blue
cross-stitch counterpane on Ammu‟s cheek. She could hear the
blue cross-stitch afternoon.
The slow ceiling fan. The sun behind the curtains. The
yellow wasp wasping against the windowpane in a dangerous
dzzzz.
A disbelieving lizard‟s blink.
High-stepping chickens in the yard.
The sound of the sun crinkling the washing. Crisping white
bedsheets. Stiffening starched saris. Off-white and gold.
Red ants on yellow stones.
A hot cow feeling hot. Amhoo. In the distance.
And the smell of a cunning Englishman ghost, sickled to a
rubber tree, asking courteously for a cigar.
“Umm… excuse me? You wouldn‟t happen to have an
umm… cigar, would you?”
In a kind, schoolteacherly voice.
Oh dear.
And Estha waiting for her. By the river. Under the
mangosteen tree that Reverend E.John Ipe had brought home from
his visit to Mandalay.