A Journal of Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya

cat with closed
eyes perched on her thighs. Close by a
mottled dog is lying stretched out on a
dull green carpet. In the verandah a black
bitch whimpers as she sniffs at her six
puppies.
Suddenly Grace looks flustered and
says, “Ruby, come here, come here. Look
at my fingers. The scars look deeper and
the knuckles have turned blue and red
like beetroot. The skin also looks broken
and rough. The hand looks so ugly like
an animal’s paw. How beautiful my hands
looked when I played on the piano! How
will I play on it now? Oh, my God!”
“It’s the doing of those mischief
mongers. When you are sleeping they
scratch your fingers with blades. To disable
you from playing. Grace, how can you
live without playing on the piano? That’s
your life, your love. Oh, how you suffer,
my dear, dear, sister!”
“Ruby, why is your hand shaking so
much? Oh, my God! Oh, my precious Ruby!”
Forgetting the pain in her fingers, Grace
held Ruby’s hands in her own.
“Those evil-minded women have done
it. They badly twisted my hand while I
was sleeping.-It almost bent double. I felt
so embarrassed that I kept my hand tucked
in my pocket. That reminds me of that
youngman of the famous Jim Corbett family
who as you know was in love with me.
He was full of praise for my hands and
said that they looked so beautiful and
small. I would tell him in jest that I could
hold the reins of the most restive horses
with those small hands of mine. Grace,
once he had promised to take me on a
long ride And then everything changed.
Look, how my hands tremble.”
“Ruby, do you mind coming a little
closer? What’s this mark that I’m seeing
on your throat? How did it happen? And
your eyelids! Your eyelashes look so
thinned. Oh, God save us from those devils.”
“They want that we should look old
and scraggy. They don’t know what an
exalted family we come from.”
“And look at my hair! They have thinned
so much that I almost look bald. How
thick, curly and golden my hair used to
be! When we were in Bangalore one day
the padre’s son said to me that he wanted
to touch my hair just to see how it feels
to touch them.”
“What a lovely city Bangalore was!
The way the boys and the girls of the
school where I taught music doted on
me! Ruby, I’ve still got their group
photograph. It was I who bought all the
musical instruments for the school. They
trusted me ... And now. I’ve to count
the rupee change over and over again.
So forgetful I’ve become.”
“It’s not that, Grace. This Jangbahadur
who runs errands for us filches money
while making purchases for us. He-always
gives us two paisa or four paisa short.
114 :: January-March 2012