It is a diversion to watch the turgid, luminous waters ripple and heave to wash gently over a stone on the bank at the side of the path. But, sitting now on the steps and glancing up after all implications of the discovery in the mud have been considered, you view the cottage with the thick roof of thatch behind some small trees with thrusting branches. The pointed leaves on the branches wave in a slight upper wind but the thatch roof does not waver as it turns browner and browner in the pitiless gaze of the sun. Fresh with the sweat of the game and the allurement of the piece of paper, you want to sway and pass as a feather in that higher air steeped in sunlight.
It was always the sun, always the lazying sun—which shone with no pause all through the day. In the spacious rooms of the large house, the windows stayed bright in the light although the rooms stayed in shadow. Even in those silent and tenebrous rooms there were wonderful dreams that unfolded themselves, taking both their reason and their fulfillment in the sun that was falling upon the domains of the large house. Sometimes a gramophone plays a piece of vinyl in one of the rooms; the song trails in the magic of the dancing air and spins out more of those dreams. Both in light and shadow, every little spot around is aroused to a joysome keenness.
In the morning you may wake up to hear that the cottage has sent out an invitation to breakfast; hence you have to dress quickly and go there. An elderly maid in the cottage kitchen invites you to pass in and sit at an old table. She then brings in plates with fried, turgid pancakes beside which are set down bowls of cooked, yellowed potatoes in dried gravy. The kitchen is soothingly cool as it is cradled by large-leafed trees. At the end of the repast, the elders begin to come in and then the children are asked if they would like to have some of the adult tea going around. The cottage brought people of all kinds within its walls and upon its pedestal. By contrast the front porch of the large house was usually a forlorn place redeemed only by the presence of two palatial columns on either side. Few people came to sit there and unfold their wares.
A man peddling colorful garments sometimes squatted upon the pedestal of the cottage. He arrived with a number of tight-woven wicker baskets hanging from a pole slung upon his shoulder. As he sat down and, with the ease of a charmer, flicked back the lid of one basket after another; the clothes and fabrics appeared to start at the gaze of the onlookers, but nevertheless bunched closely together in their piles, each basket having a different dress or color at the top not necessarily matched by the ones below. The garments man’s goods might have come from one or more of the many trucks that passed regularly between the region and the rest of the country. Certain it was that they belonged to a far part of the country. He himself might not be indigenous to the region, having in all likelihood obtained these items from a distant native land and brought them here to sell.
Every three months, to the front porch of the large house would come a man to sell balls of puffed, crunchy rice that were round and sticky. He might make them himself or commission them from someone he knew well. In any event, his wife would have the final say on how they should be made this time and the price at which they should sell. There he sits with his haunches almost touching the cool, polished floor of the porch while looking up with a broad smile that shows intact although yellowing teeth. His slippers of withered leather are too large for his feet and his toenails are rather prominent. Yet he is a center of attraction not just because of the brown jute sack before him in which are present those rice balls within transparent plastic sheeting, but also because of the tidings he brings of people in other parts of the town. From his earlier visit, you know that a well-known personality in a certain neighborhood had begun a course of alternative medicine to cure his bulimia, after which he was frequently seen to be stopping in the street, staring with round eyes at a spot, and swallowing something with quite a rumble. The wife of this eminent gentleman was said to have declared publicly her intention not to accompany him any more if he continued in this mannerism.
The news bearer in the porch now reveals that the gentleman in question has been calm for some time, but—here he shakes his head sagaciously—some other untoward signs have been observed about him. These signs would be disclosed fully only in the course of the next visit, leaving the listeners once more in suspense. He often had other delicacies to pull out from his sack but, surprisingly, you had to goad him to do it. It was during his visit that the front porch could become as lively as the interiors of the house; it was not uncommon for some of the household to sit with him and even sip tea together. It seemed the flowing talk made him and the rest oblivious of other business of the day.
The people could talk out their feelings and opinions very clearly when they needed to. Sometimes they had lots of feelings deep inside but they did not speak much of them. There was always a thick surface of resounding banter that smoothed over any hesitation and stumbling in the mind. People were skilled in keeping conversation going when the occasion was right and the need was present. Many of them could in truth have switched places with the personalities on the radio and the big screen whose names and voices kept everyone awestruck in that time. Indeed, apart from the rustle of vehicles, the horns, worship bells and the occasional loudspeaker in the street, the conversations in the rooms of houses made the echo of the times with their vibrancy and their panache.
Usually, in an inner room, a multitude of shelves, small almirahs, drawers and decorative objects made for a cozy enclosure in which a radio on a wall would blare out the news or carry a report. Then it would be turned off and the people in the room, seated on a bed or in chairs, would start speaking with assurance in round smiles and intimacy in familiarity. Oh, yes, that’s what he mouths all the time through the radio, but, really, things are quite different, you know! A dissident in the room would neither agree nor differ but present his own unclassifiable point of view, in which case the attention would turn upon him while he leaned back in his seat, raised a leg with both hands and began to guffaw to the point of almost being choked. The tea cup sitting in his lap would tilt precariously but somehow its contents were never spilled. He would then right himself and, with merry tears glistening behind spectacles, still carry an impish smile that nothing could make go away. If you emerged from such a conversation in the night, the impassive silence of the air outside would not be intimidating in the least.
Even silence carries with it a hum that may lie in the imagination or in the beating of some part of the universe. In contrast with the distinct murmur of the street outside, the large house itself had its own modest but prevailing hum, the hum of a trustworthy vessel in an endless sea. It seemed the sun shone only upon the house and its domains; the rest of its light for the rest of the world was given only grudgingly. Though there was hardly a wind in the air, everything was stirring and your heart moved with eager palpitation as you strode. Then the people around merged almost in a collective blur and you were aware only of the delectable promises they held out.
It is strange but there was no sadness upon leaving the large house at the end of the holidays. With bags in your hand swollen by the collection of the holidays and cap on your head, you went to the jeep that stood outside the gate of the house. The people in the large house stood in the porch and watched you leave; some of them had smiles, some were just curious. As the street swept you away in its own stream, the house was left behind but you bore its humming throb inside you. The throb, the stir, the turn was such that it seemed you would not need to board an airplane to take you back after the holidays. You could fly away on your own.
