Brick Lane (32 page)

I begin housework at night but even taking all care it done before morning and sometime I do fall asleep. Then it difficult to sleep when husband comes and it is my turn to do the watching.

Sister I know how you enjoy to leave your flat. But I have come inside now. How I love the walls keep me here.

April 1995
My husband have gone to bazaar. I go up on roof with other wives. I growing mustard in a pot chilli plants in another. I speak with wives and they grumble about husbands. I must grumble also or they looking strangely at me.

I stare down in street yesterday watching the road it getting dug up. The women have big spade and long handle axe. Some carrying basket of stones on shoulder. All thin like sticks. When men work in field at least they have mathlas. These women go bare head. And sun is red like a hell and big like anything.

Then they finish the work and lining up for pay. They getting pay in wheat. The wheat coming all way from America. This is what wives telling me. This is how they getting paid. How to live on wheat?

All day I thinking about these women who are not housewives like me and like you sister. I thinking what I do if I one of them. Which way I turn? How I think to get out from under the stones?

My husband soon he return and getting ready for job. Storm is coming. But it too early for rain. Now we long for rain. Storm stays in the sky. Red and white lights. How hot it is today. Grisma going on for longer in city it seem. Before the rains come my husband taking me to his village. Mother no longer alive but he have father and two brother not yet marry. I going to meet my new family. Sometime I worry they find out about me. I cant tell to husband. If I speak that way I remind of what is behind me.

He rub my head for me. He is quiet man. Sometime I think he fallen asleep but is just peaceful. He is a serious man. If someone say only few words every word takes more weight. How Shahana liking school? Is natural for mother to cry when the child begin to grow away but if your friend give advice to see doctor then go. See the doctor and he will tell you how well your sister reads your heart.

May 1995
All his life people been stare at my husband. I think that how he getting so serious. Also how he understand things for woman like me. Not many men getting stare at in their life. He have few blister on cheeks and nose is fry like pakora. Also in spite of these thing he handsome in an actual fact. Now I am use to blue eyes and blue eyes very nice as well.

It night now and I try to stay awake. This evening I go up on the roof. Talking with wives. They smoking secret cigarette cleaning children feeding babies. All are great Authority on this thing or that. One know all about wind. If someone burp in certain way it meaning they eat too quick. Another kind of burping mean too much spices. Deep belch is sign of twisted stomach tube. And wind from other end can be read in many way. Some lucky ones is sign of money coming. I call her the Windy Wife. Then there is Great Disaster. If someone stub a toe she say 'You lucky. Only the other day I mash two toes in the door.' Someone else has sick daughter. 'You can count blessings. Only the other week my daughter rushed to hospital.' Another wife have take beating. 'Thank God for one rib only broken. When my husband beat he make sure to break all bones.' And biggest Authority of all is Woman Who Know Men. Aaahh she says if you want your husband faithful you must hide his toothbrush in the morning. She do always say Aaahh before everything. A man not going to another woman with smelly breath. I know men! Aaahh another thing. To stop him snoring you must burn incense in the room and always turn him on right side. I know men! Aaahh I can tell you something. Give your mother-in-law the best pieces of meat and next day he bringing jewellery for you. She know men!

One of young wife cannot have child. She have cut hair short and she praying. Not even short hair can bring child for me now. I have tell my husband and he accept it.

Before the rain come we going to his village. It must be soon.

Sometime I look out from roof and think I see my first husband. I see him with shirt unbutton to the chest. I see riding a motor bike. I see talking on mobile phone. I see man walk with hand on hip just like he use to do. And this when my fear is escaping. Other time I see man who come to me very often in Narayanganj. These time I feel the fear on my back.

May 1995
I pass these nights write to you sister. Flat is clean everything in good order. What I can say?

My husband is please with me. I am good housekeeper. I never mix up laces and laces are important to shoe man.

You know my husband tell me this. First moment he see me it the perfect moment in his whole and entire life. This is how he say. In his whole and entire life. He like to live it again and he planning to make it come again as an actual fact. He have me sit in bed and put my hair in certain way over one shoulder. Sheet is smooth at one end and crumple at other. I must tilt my face so or so. But light is never right. I hold head too tight or too loose. It hard for him not to get angry he trying to make something perfect. Sometime he say my face have change and he tell me to change it back but I soothe and he is quiet again.

The rains come now and we will not go to the village for a while.

If doctor gives pills you must take even in spite I do not know what kind of pill can cure disease of sadness. When you get use to Shahana being out from house you feeling like your old self again.

June 1995
Hussains funeral it pass today. Someone bring word for me and I go to say goodbye. I stand apart away from rest. Few of jute mens nobody else. I cover myself but they know who stand behind. They do not speak with me and I take for respect.

Sides of grave falling down with rain and I cry for our mother.

My husband working long long hour. He saying I have change my face but I do not know what he mean. I put more cosmetics less cosmetics but he cannot see what he saw before. I thinking he need more rest but he cannot be still and he go out. Is what is call bad patch for the marriage.

June 1995
He say things not in good order any more even I do always try to keep it good ordered like anything. He say I put curse on him and that is why we marry. He say how his family going to take daughter-in-law like me?

I saying to him this is bad patch for the marriage. Every marriage has bad patch. Even my sister sometime having bad patch and she respectable like hell living in London and everything.

July 1996
My own loving sister I always dreaming of you sending your letter and waiting. I do not have address for you to reach me. When I am settling somewhere you hear from me.

Do not worry. When I have work I send news.

January 2001
I hope this reach you. I hope you are in same address. Some time past I living here and there. Some time past only food for one day and the next. Everything I putting out of mind now. They have taken me in and I am maid in good house. All are kind. Children are beautiful. My room is solid wall room. Clean place. Nothing here for making scared of. Mistress is kind. Mister is kind. They give plenty of food. If you are in same address now you write to me again.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
OWER
H
AMLETS
, F
EBRUARY
2001

The girls stood before their father and twisted their toes into the carpet. Chanu sat cross-legged on the floor. Leaning forward, his belly filled the thigh-and-calf cradle. Chairs were out of favour. He was a floor man now.

'Come,' he said. 'Begin.' He clapped his hands together.

Shahana pushed Bibi with her elbow. Bibi drew circles with her big toe. Her plaits hung around her face; rope ladders to the roof of her head. Nazneen pulled laundry from the wooden clothes rack and began a campaign of vigorous folding and sorting. Activity, ordinary and domestic and cheerful, was needed. The clothes were still damp.

'She knows it,' said Nazneen. 'Only yesterday I listened to her practise.'

Chanu held up an open hand. It was a gesture for peace, or a threat to Bibi.

At last she began:

'O Amar Shonar Bangla, ami tomay bhailobashi
Forever your skies, your air set my heart in tune . . .'

Chanu sighed and rubbed his stomach. He plumped it like a cushion, fists working in a circular motion. For five days he had been teaching his daughters to recite 'Golden Bengal'. This evening they were to perform the entire poem. Chanu was taking his family back home and Tagore was the first step of the journey. Bibi continued.

'. . . As if it were a flute.
In spring, oh mother mine, the fragrance from Your mango groves makes me wild with joy – Ah what thrill.'