Lucky Leaf
Lay Ter had come. Rahel stood with her hands at her sides. No more Fountain in a Love-In-Tokyo. Her mane of hair was pulled and yanked in a shining knob on the back of her head. Her stiff collar chafed her so that there was a pink spot on the back of her neck. She fancied she could feel the slowhot breath of the frowsy, old nuns sitting in folding chairs with peeling green paint. Rahel’s spotless eyes looked out from a distance. Before her there was a mass of girls in stiff collars and knobs laughing and whooping together as they came in from breakfast. Between Rahel and the girls there was a wooden podium with shelves on the inside and beyond this was a steep drop off at the end of the wooden-floored stage.
Rahel saw very little of this. Or at least, she tried not to see. Rahel quivered slightly and her hands trembled as she opened the massive volume in from of her. Slowly, with trembling hands she found the page. As she ran her finger down the second column on the left page her finger stuck in places. It skidded and caught on the fine paper as any softwet sticky finger would. It made a faint popping noise, sometimes accompanied by the crinkle-crinkle of the page. Rahel liked this. She shook a little less. A bee bumped along the small, high-set windows. Faint tapping sounds were the only signs of his frustrated and desperate escape effort.
Before the rabble had died down Rahel began to read aloud in a shaky voice: “A definition from the Oxford Dictionary: ‘depravity: the quality or condition of being depraved or corrupt.’ ” Chacko went… no, read at Oxford. The hum of the audience changed to quite sniggers and oh-so-subtle pointing. Rahel’s face grew flushed…or as flushed as a brown face can. But her eyes were blank, and her voice grew stronger and defiant. A despairing bee pinged harder on the dirty glass. “ ‘Perverted quality: moral perversion; the innate corruption of human nature due to original sin.’ ” Rahel smarted under the injustice. This was not a Proper Punishment, because there was no Crime. All the same, they all still thought she had natas in her seye.
The previous day Rahel was outside the Headmistress’s garden gate decorating a knob of cowdung in the pattern of a leaf. She first made an outline of the leaf with small pale yellow flowers from the Headmistress’s garden. She plucked the petals from a yellow rose and pressed them into the soft, warm feces. She colored only in the lines, ripping the petals to fit in the borders. Maybe this would be a Lucky Leaf too. The monsoons had not come, and it was already midway through June. She sang as she worked: “that demmedel-usive Estha-Pen?”
The gate opened and the cowdung skidded and smeared under the metal pole of the gate. There was a brief moment of confusion as Rahel gazed up in mild interest and the Headmistress’s wide eyes (devoid of Satan) took in Rahel squatting like a boy with her knickers showing and five stems poking out of her tight lips. Her cheeks were smudged greenbrown.
“Good morning Headmistress, lovely day.”
The nun’s brow furrowed and her lips thinned with indignation as she raged about sin and Satan.
You could see mih in her seye.
She slapped Rahel hard on the cheek. Knobby, wrinkledwhite hand on a gauntbrown cheek. Her pale face looked like a storm cloud with scowling eyebrows as she informed Rahel that she would be punished Lay Ter.
“ ‘Both the elect and the non-elect come into the world in a state of total d. and alienation from God, and can, of themselves do nothing but sin. J. H. Blunt.’ ” The sanctimonious she-learned-her-lesson air emanating from the nuns wafted over the sniggering audience as they regarded the mudbrown Littledemon.
Slowly the hum of conversation swelled. The nuns stood and walked slowly out, like black bridesmaids; their small manicured feet pausing every step. The children burst through the doors and slowly trickled out.
Rahel was alone.
Save for the bee.
His once spirited attempt to fly through the window were now sluggish. Rahel gazed at him. He hit a pane once more and slid down to the sill, twitching his legs. She sat with an unchanged expression. Pappachi’s moth unfurled its wings and groped with thick dorsal tufts.
Rahel saw very little of this. Or at least, she tried not to see. Rahel quivered slightly and her hands trembled as she opened the massive volume in from of her. Slowly, with trembling hands she found the page. As she ran her finger down the second column on the left page her finger stuck in places. It skidded and caught on the fine paper as any softwet sticky finger would. It made a faint popping noise, sometimes accompanied by the crinkle-crinkle of the page. Rahel liked this. She shook a little less. A bee bumped along the small, high-set windows. Faint tapping sounds were the only signs of his frustrated and desperate escape effort.
Before the rabble had died down Rahel began to read aloud in a shaky voice: “A definition from the Oxford Dictionary: ‘depravity: the quality or condition of being depraved or corrupt.’ ” Chacko went… no, read at Oxford. The hum of the audience changed to quite sniggers and oh-so-subtle pointing. Rahel’s face grew flushed…or as flushed as a brown face can. But her eyes were blank, and her voice grew stronger and defiant. A despairing bee pinged harder on the dirty glass. “ ‘Perverted quality: moral perversion; the innate corruption of human nature due to original sin.’ ” Rahel smarted under the injustice. This was not a Proper Punishment, because there was no Crime. All the same, they all still thought she had natas in her seye.
The previous day Rahel was outside the Headmistress’s garden gate decorating a knob of cowdung in the pattern of a leaf. She first made an outline of the leaf with small pale yellow flowers from the Headmistress’s garden. She plucked the petals from a yellow rose and pressed them into the soft, warm feces. She colored only in the lines, ripping the petals to fit in the borders. Maybe this would be a Lucky Leaf too. The monsoons had not come, and it was already midway through June. She sang as she worked: “that demmedel-usive Estha-Pen?”
The gate opened and the cowdung skidded and smeared under the metal pole of the gate. There was a brief moment of confusion as Rahel gazed up in mild interest and the Headmistress’s wide eyes (devoid of Satan) took in Rahel squatting like a boy with her knickers showing and five stems poking out of her tight lips. Her cheeks were smudged greenbrown.
“Good morning Headmistress, lovely day.”
The nun’s brow furrowed and her lips thinned with indignation as she raged about sin and Satan.
You could see mih in her seye.
She slapped Rahel hard on the cheek. Knobby, wrinkledwhite hand on a gauntbrown cheek. Her pale face looked like a storm cloud with scowling eyebrows as she informed Rahel that she would be punished Lay Ter.
“ ‘Both the elect and the non-elect come into the world in a state of total d. and alienation from God, and can, of themselves do nothing but sin. J. H. Blunt.’ ” The sanctimonious she-learned-her-lesson air emanating from the nuns wafted over the sniggering audience as they regarded the mudbrown Littledemon.
Slowly the hum of conversation swelled. The nuns stood and walked slowly out, like black bridesmaids; their small manicured feet pausing every step. The children burst through the doors and slowly trickled out.
Rahel was alone.
Save for the bee.
His once spirited attempt to fly through the window were now sluggish. Rahel gazed at him. He hit a pane once more and slid down to the sill, twitching his legs. She sat with an unchanged expression. Pappachi’s moth unfurled its wings and groped with thick dorsal tufts.