Chapter 9: Night Five (White)
The fifth day was a Sunday. In the morning, Mummy went to the market and came back with a big packet of jasmine flowers.
In the afternoon, she sat at the dining table with the flowers, a needle and a long white thread. Then she called me.
“Rohan, can you help me make a few gajras?”
I sat next to her. She showed me how to make one. Two flowers, side by side, the needle through the stems, then the next two, close together so there was no gap. She made one full gajra in front of me, slowly, so I could see.
Then she went to the kitchen to make tea, and I made the rest.
It was like threading beads. My fingers found it easy. One, then two, then three, then four. The whole table smelled of jasmine.
Mummy came back with the tea and stopped.
“Oh,” she said. “You used all the flowers?”
“Yes,” I said.
She looked at the four gajras lying on the table. She didn’t say anything. But she picked one up and looked at it closely, the way she had looked at my earrings. Then she put it down very carefully.
In the evening, before the aarti, she kept one gajra for the puja. She gave one to Ananya. She still had two left in her hand.
Ananya held out her hand. “Give one to me.”
Mummy gave it to her. Ananya came behind me, and before I could say anything, she pinned it into my hair, just below the clutcher.
“Why should you be left out of the fun?” she said. “You have good long hair now.”
I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t. I just looked at Mummy.
Mummy looked at the jasmine in my hair for a long moment. Then she lifted the last gajra and pinned it into her own hair.
All three of us were wearing the flowers I had made. The whole house smelled of jasmine during the aarti. Mummy didn’t look at me while she sang. But when she walked past me with the lamp, she slowed down, just for a moment, near my hair.
After the aarti, the smell of the jasmine was driving me crazy. It was in my hair, on my fingers, everywhere. I loved it. I felt brave. Braver than I had felt all week.
Mummy was putting the aarti plate away. I went and stood next to her.
“Mummy,” I said. “I have to tell you something.”
She turned to me. “Yes? Tell me.”
She was waiting. Her eyes were on my face. The jasmine was in her hair too.
I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Nothing at all.
“Oh,” I said. “I forgot.”
And I went back to my room.
That night, after Mummy and Ananya had gone down to the garba, I sat on the balcony and listened to the music. The jasmine I had made with my own hands was still in my hair.
Five nights. Five things. She had said yes to all of them, in her own way.
But I still hadn’t said a single word.
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