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ours–she isn‟t always what she pretends to be.”
“What does she pretend to be?” Rahel asked.
“Oh… a little old churchgoing ammooma , quiet and clean...
idi appams for breakfast, kanji and meen for lunch. Minding her
own business. Not looking right or left.”
“And she‟s really a…?”
“Really a wild thing… I can hear her at night–rushing past in
the moonlight, always in a hurry. You must be careful of her.”
“And what does she really eat?”
“Really eat? Oh… Stoo… and… “ He cast about for
something English for the evil river to eat.
“Pineapple slices…” Rahel suggested.
“That‟s right! Pineapple slices and Stoo. And she drinks.
Whiskey.”
“And brandy.”
“And brandy. True.”
“And looks right and left?
“True.”
“And minds other people‟s business…”
Esthappen steadied the little boat on the uneven earth floor
with a few blocks of wood that he found in Velutha‟s workstation
in the backyard. He gave Rahel a cooking ladle made of a wooden
handle stuck through the polished half of a coconut shell.
The twins climbed into the vallom and rowed across vast,
choppy waters. With a Thaiy thaij thaka thaiy thai thome. And a
jeweled Jesus watching.
He walked on water. Perhaps. But could He have swum on
land? In matching knickers and dark glasses? With His Fountain in
a Love-in-Tokyo? In pointy shoes and a puff? Would He have had
the imagination?
Velutha returned to see if Kuttappen needed anything. From
a distance he heard the raucous singing. Young voices, underlining
with delight the scatology