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The God of Small Things - Get a Free Blog

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When Margaret Kochamma saw her little daughter‟s body,<br />

shock swelled in her like phantom applause in an empty<br />

auditorium. It overflowed in a wave <strong>of</strong> vomit and left her mute and<br />

empty-eyed. She mourned two deaths, not one. With the loss <strong>of</strong><br />

Sophie Mol, Joe died again. And this time there was no homework<br />

to finish or egg to eat. She had come to Ayemenem to heal her<br />

wounded world, and had lost all <strong>of</strong> it instead. She shattered like<br />

glass.<br />

Her memory <strong>of</strong> the days that followed was fuzzy. Long, dim,<br />

hours <strong>of</strong> thick, furry-tongued serenity (medically administered by<br />

Dr. Verghese Verghese) lacerated by sharp, steely slashes <strong>of</strong><br />

hysteria, as keen and cutting as the edge <strong>of</strong> a new razor blade.<br />

She was vaguely conscious <strong>of</strong> Chacko–concerned and<br />

gentlevoiced when he was by her side–otherwise incensed,<br />

blowing like an enraged wind through the Ayemenem House. So<br />

different from the amused Rumpled Porcupine she had met that<br />

long-ago Oxford morning at the cafâ.<br />

She remembered faintly the funeral in the yellow church.<br />

<strong>The</strong> sad singing. A bat that had bothered someone. She<br />

remembered the sounds <strong>of</strong> doors being battered down, and<br />

frightened women‟s voices. And how at night the bush crickets had<br />

sounded like creaking stars and amplified the fear and gloom that<br />

hung over the Ayemenem House.<br />

She never forgot her irrational rage at the other two younger<br />

children who had for some reason been spared. Her fevered mind<br />

fastened like a limpet onto the notion that Estha was somehow<br />

responsible for Sophie Mol‟s death. Odd, considering that<br />

Margaret Kochamma didn‟t know that it was Estha–Stirring<br />

Wizard with a Puff–who had rowed jam and thought Two<br />

Thoughts, Estha who had broken rules and rowed Sophie Mol and<br />

Rahel across the river in the afternoons in a little boat, Estha who<br />

had abrogated a sickled smell by waving a Marxist flag at it. Estha<br />

who had made the back verandah <strong>of</strong> the History House their home<br />

away from home, furnished with a grass mat and most <strong>of</strong> their<br />

toys–a catapult, an inflatable goose, a Qantas koala with loosened

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