The maid had not turned up again today. Her husband was immersed in the newspaper as usual.
Even the phone ringing at the most inconvenient moments __ when she was preparing the omelet for swetha, ironing her school uniforms or somebody knocking at the door, did not seem to have any effect on him.
“It is for you”, she said.
“Say I am not there”.
“I am not used to starting the day with lies”
“There is no auspicious time for lying, Savithri”, he said.
There was again a knock at the door. He deigned to look who it was. It was the man who bought old newspapers.
“Newspaper Fellow”, he announced, reverting to bury his head into the papers. Everything had to revolve around her.
“Not today”, she was speaking to the man at the door, “Had I not asked for your wife to come for work”.
“She is already working in 6 other houses”, “might come from the first of next month after she gives up on one of these houses”.
“First of next month?” How will I manage till then?” Savithri did not hide her dismay.
“Let me ask my sister or my younger brother’s wife”, “You don’t have paper?” He was persuasive.
“There is plenty, but who has the time to take them out give them to you”
“Aiyya”, he said implying her husband.
“Rains will pour and I will consider myself blessed should he leave them properly folded after reading”.
Satish had finished the sports page and had the broad sheet folded in good position to attempt the crossword.
“Why is my head being knocked around?”
“He was asking if you help around in the house, I said you do wind the clock, don’t you?” , she quipped.
It was not that Savithri did not like the morning tussle; but the maid’s vanishing act pushed her off the cliff.
“If your maid does not turn up, why jump on me”
“Who jumps on you?” “If only you can be of little help around the house at least on a holiday like this……”
“Oh no, I have some work to do at the office”, “Do you want me to sweep the floor”.
“Nothing that complicated... If you could only arrange the letters and other papers on the desk and put them in order…, I can’t do all by myself, “I can wash the dishes, but washing clothes is pain”, she said handing him over his second dose of coffee.
“Let me see, how many pieces of clothing per day? Six?” He shifted himself on the sofa.
“Eighteen”
“Just for three of us!?”
“Yes, your T-shirt, Tennis Shirt, Walking Shirt, Office Shirt, socks, Swetha’s school uniform, her churidar, nighties, your night dress, my saree, jacket, bodice and petticoat, count all of them”.
“Why don’t you do them in installments? Why all in one go?”
“That’s how I have ended up with 50 today”
“Who does the washing?”
“It was the maid; whatever we dump into the basket – she would promptly wash them next day and hang them to dry; I can’t do all the washing and wringing by myself”, she was pleading and remonstrating at the same time.
“I will find a solution to your problem”
“I just need someone to help me, I can do all the washing, just someone should hang them to dry”
“Let me sort out all your problems”, he went about looking through the yellow pages in the telephone directory and located Shankar Emporium.
Don’t worry about the price; replied the solicitous Shop assistant when he called to know the price, “Tell me the address and see a demo by our Sales person first, there is also an installment scheme; you pay Rupees 600 now and then pay in 36 installments….”
“I don’t want any scheme, send me immediately the best model you have”
“Solved your washing problem, now tell me what you want, Dishwasher? Vacuum Cleaner?”
“Did I ask for all these things? I just wanted some help, I am not comfortable using these machines”
“You can learn, mother”, Swetha joined the conversation.
“Why don’t you learn and help mother?”
“No way, I am not going to learn washing machine, I want to learn computers”
“You should not be afraid of machines, any case you will see a demo and he is going to teach you how to operate”.
As he went off to have his afternoon nap, she sat down to see some TV serials; and just as somebody on the TV screen was putting a vial of poison to the lips, she was startled by the encircling arms of her husband from behind.
“You require rest, Savithri”, her husband was sweet. “This year we are certainly making it to a holiday resort, whatever happens”
“Oh, don’t you worry”
“Every other VP in the office dumps it on me and sets off to Darjeeling and Kodaikanal with family”
“How does that matter?”
“I feel terribly guilty, you work so hard and you deserve a break, Why don’t to you take off to Mayavaram for 15 days”
“For heaven’s sake no, I need to sit with Swetha with her studies, besides my mother will badger me no end for having left you and Swetha in the lurch and taking off, your kind words are enough to keep me going”
“A museum piece, a beautiful piece at that”, he was hugging her from behind. “A little make up in a beauty parlor and a little hair-styling will make everybody wonder if you could be Swetha’s sister”
“Beautify myself for whom? Is it so important for you?”
“For my eyes only, but it does not matter at all, I love you for your inner beauty”, when he kissed her and asked for another coffee, the phone rang.
“Call from office”, he sulked. I need to attend to it; the sales man will come for the demo, you go ahead and see the demo, I might get late at the office”, he pressed her lovingly on her shoulder before leaving.
The washing machine came in the evening; it looked like a small grain silo with two gleaming lids on the top.
“Does this dog bite?”, the sales guy was looking furtively at Toni. “I actually love dogs”, “but please put it on leash”.
“You don’t have to do anything Mrs. Satish Kumar, drop your clothes into this chute and press this button. You will see this light glow:- Fuzzy logic, microprocessor controlled, six washing programs and eighteen combinations; you can load up to 5 kg of clothes. Even actress Ramba has the same model. It will adjust the timings according to the clothes and the load; will first rinse, wash and then spin dry; bi-directional; at the end you will get your clothes nearly dry, almost ready to wear; buttons don’t break, clothes don’t lose luster”.
Savithri asked him for the price. He said “Fifteen thousand, we give a wall clock free”, he added hurriedly.
Savithri looked at the machine with interest as he operated it; the machine made some agreeable sounds and ground to a halt. The salesman with his tie over the shoulders removed the clothes that were almost dry. Savithri was all too thrilled; thrilled at her entry into the world of Hi-Tech.
Satish was late from office that evening. Savithri had become adept at using the machine. The washed clothes were fluttering in the wind in the backyard and the washing machine was standing by like allaudin’s genie.
“Why should you slog when there is a machine for every household chore; there is machine for chapatti making, ready-made idly dough...”, Satish went on.
“These machines are nothing; your concern and love for me, they will keep going forever”, she gushed.
“Oh, where is the need to mention? How long we are married now?”
“15 year with this month of Thai”.
“You are still the same in spite of all these years”, “won’t you give me a kiss”, he drew her near and touched the tip of her nose with his finger.
She withdrew and rushing towards the backyard, “Let me finish with the washing”.
She took with her the shirt her husband had just cast away. With the intimacy of her husband’s shirt adding to her elation, she held it to her nose in exhilaration.
There was a mild scent of perfume below the collar at the back; a strange feeling passed through her; they had never used this perfume before.
-Translated from Tamil by V.Ramanan
P.S.
Did you guess how this short would end? Sujatha did not have a clue when he started to write this story. Endings that take the reader by surprise alone are considered hallmark of good short stories by some. Yes, they do provide instant gratification of sorts, but a short story can be anything; it can be a dream, dialog, reverie, sketch of character, even an exchange of letters ( Sujatha himself has written one in that form), anything that has a certain unity and movement of life. It must suggest more than it states. For example, in this story, the husband’s deception should be handled through delicate implication. A short story has to lure the reader into co-operation through delicate implication unlike a novel. This is a problem I face while translating from the Tamil original. Sometimes when they are lost in translation I see a need to depart from the original.
It is easy to spot a bad short story though, like the ones invariably written in women’s magazines, English or Tamil, for reasons I am unable to fathom to this day.
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