The God of Small Things - Get a Free Blog

them with the boys‟ luggage, his bowed legs further bowed, cruel
schoolboys imitating his gait. Balls-in-Brackets they used to call
him.
Smallest Man the Varicose Veins he clean forgot to mention,
as he wobbled off with less than half the money he had asked for
and less than a tenth of what he deserved.
Outside, the rain had stopped. The gray sky curdled and the
clouds resolved themselves into little lumps, like substandard
mattress stuffing.
Esthappen appeared at the kitchen door, wet (and wiser than
he really was). Behind him the long grass sparkled. The puppy
stood on the steps beside him. Raindrops slid across the curved
bottom of the rusted gutter on the edge of the roof, like shining
beads on an abacus.
Baby Kochamma looked up from the television.
“Here he comes,” she announced to Rahel, not bothering to
lower her voice. “Now watch. He won‟t say anything. He‟ll walk
straight to his room. Just watch–”
The puppy seized the opportunity and tried to stage a
combined entry. Kochu Maria hit the floor fiercely with her palms
and said, “Hup! Hup! Poda Patti!”
So the puppy, wisely, desisted. It appeared to be familiar
with this routine.
“Watch!‟ Baby Kochamma said. She seemed excited. “He‟ll
walk straight to his room and wash his clothes. He‟s very
over-clean… he won‟t say a word!”
She had the air of a game warden pointing out an animal in
the grass. Taking pride in her ability to predict its movements. Her
superior knowledge of its habits and predilections.
Estha‟s hair was plastered down in clumps, like the inverted
petals of a flower. Slivers of white scalp shone through, Rivulets of
water ran down his face and neck.
He walked to his room. A gloating halo appeared around
Baby Kochamma‟s head. “See?” she said.