Rajni Janika Oza (bio) In her mother’s bedroom in their Karachi home, Rajni outlined her eyes with kohl, observing her reflection in the polished tin mirror. Behind her, her mother scraped her hair into a tight plait that reached her waist, braiding a string of jasmine into the last few inches of hair. “Ma,” Rajni said, wincing as she tugged at a loose strand. “Sorry,” Ma replied, dipping her fingers into a jar of coconut oil and smoothing the halo of fuzz that framed Rajni’s temples, “but you know it’s important to look your best. You must impress today.” “I always impress,” Rajni laughed, catching her mother’s eyes in the mirror, and Ma swatted her on the shoulder. “Modesty impresses,” she said. Rajni ran her finger along the border of her emerald sari, which was puckered with deep blue embroidery. “If I’m going to marry this man, shouldn’t he see me as I am?” she asked, knowing her question would not land well. Ma scoffed. “You expect a man to respect you if he first sees you in your nightdress? Maybe you shouldn’t take a bath, either.” Rajni smiled, brushing the excess powder from her cheeks. For all the sternness and rules her mother held fast, the violence outside hadn’t yet sucked the humour out of her. “Come,” Ma said, glancing out the window to the street, and Rajni knew she was anxious for Pappa to return home. Ever since the riots had begun, Ma had kept close watch of what time her husband and sons left the house, hovering by the window when it was nearing the time they should be back. Rajni stood and felt the weight of her best sari on her shoulders, the gold bangle threatening to slide off her wrist. Ma reached out and straightened a wayward pleat and then looked back at the window. “He just went out for milk and bread,” Rajni said, hoping the simplicity [End Page 121] of her father’s task would be reassuring against the reality of the Hindu- Muslim riots that were gaining speed in the wake of the dissolution of the British Raj. For a moment, a shadow passed over Ma’s face, and Rajni thought she might cry. But as quickly as it had appeared, it blew past, and Ma took Rajni’s arm, leading her out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. “Yes,” she said, “it’s just that I need that milk to make the tea.” ________ When the guests arrived, Ma ushered them into the sitting room but did not close the front door behind them. Rajni stood in the hallway, waiting for her cue to enter. She watched as the two women perched themselves on the flowered settee; the youngest girl settled on the floor by their feet. Ma and Pappa looked from one sweat-flushed face to the next, and Rajni wondered who would be the first to ask the obvious question. Finally, Pappa cleared his throat and said timidly, “and are the men on their way?” The oldest woman broke into a smile, revealing evenly spaced teeth. She had clearly been anticipating this question. “No men coming,” she said, and the girl on the floor stifled a giggle behind her hand. “Sorry?” Ma said, leaning forward on her seat. Rajni craned her neck to see the expressions on the women’s faces, wondering if they were being mocked. The younger woman on the settee spoke up. “Bhen, we are here to discuss the potential marriage of your daughter and my nephew, Vinod. We are his two aunts. And this is my daughter, Vinod’s cousin.” “Yes,” Pappa said, taking a seat on the stool, “and will Vinod and his father be joining us soon? My daughter is just readying the tea.” “Tell her to bring the tea,” the eldest said. “The men will not be coming. We will be discussing this without them.” Rajni, who had been listening to all of this with keen interest from the hallway, heard her cue and entered the room, her footsteps slow and eyes lowered like a bride, a tray laden with teacups balanced in...
Read full abstract