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Chacko lit a Charminar. He inhaled deeply and then removed
a little flake of tobacco that had stayed behind on his tongue.
Inside the Plymouth, it wasn‟t easy for Rahel to see Estha,
because Baby Kochamma rose between them like a hill. Ammu
had insisted that they sit separately to prevent them from fighting.
When they fought, Estha called Rahel a Refugee Stick Insect Rahel
called him Elvis the Pelvis and did a twisty; funny kind of dance
that infuriated Estha. When they had serious physical fights, they
were so evenly matched that the fights went on forever, and things
that came in their way-table lamps, ashtrays and water jugs-were
smashed or irreparably damaged.
Baby Kochamma was holding on to the back of the front seat
with her arms. When the car moved, her armfat swung like heavy
washing in the wind. Now it hung down like a fleshy curtain,
blocking Estha from Rahel.
On Estha‟s side of the road was a tea shack that sold tea and
stale glucose biscuits in dim glass cases with flies. There was
lemon soda in thick bottles with blue marble stoppers to keep the
fizz in. And a red icebox that said rather sadly
Things Go Better with Coca-Cola
Murlidharan, the level-crossing lunatic, perched cross-legged
and perfectly balanced on the milestone. His balls and penis
dangled down, pointing towards the sign which said
COCHIN
23 KM
Murlidharan was naked except for the tall plastic bag that
somebody had fitted onto his head like a transparent chef‟s cap,
through which the view of the landscape continued-dimmed, chef–
shaped, but uninterrupted. He couldn‟t remove his cap even if he