by Anosh Irani
apsara: And you let Father take me away?
padma: I objected. I refused to let you go. He said that if we offered you to the temple, the gods would offer us a boon. I would be granted a son. He was the head priest of the village, a learned man. I believed him.
apsara: You sacrificed one child so you could have another.
padma: The universe plays us. We are pawns. We always sacrifice ourselves for something greater.
apsara: A son is greater.
padma: A son will always be greater. It was a matter of face. How could I stand before my family and say, “My only contribution to this world is a girl”?
apsara: But the son never came. That brother of mine was never born. What happened, Mother? Did you not appease the gods enough?
padma: Don’t worry about the gods for now. Just make sure you appease me. Ask Kamal to bring your father here.
apsara: I can’t.
padma: Don’t make this difficult.
apsara: I won’t do it.
padma: I see. Stay here. I’ll be right back.
apsara: Where are you going?
padma: To get some meat.
She exits and returns with a large chunk of red meat.
She puts it under apsara’s nose.
Smell this.
She thrusts it into apsara’s hand.
Squash it. Feel it between your fingers. Soon, your father will feel like that. Soft and dead.
apsara tries to break away from her grip. But padma is strong.
She takes apsara to the window.
apsara: Where are you taking me?
padma: To feed the eagles. It’s a little early for them, but we’ll wait. Now I’m asking you again: Will you make Kamal bring your father to me?
apsara: No.
padma: I see an eagle. It’s far away, but it’s coming.
apsara: I don’t like this. Please.
padma: Look at it. Those powerful wings. Now that’s a man. If only I could have those wings over me for just one night. What a man an eagle is. A protector. A god. It’s spotted us. Perhaps you’d like to lose your sight, just like your husband?
apsara: Mother, please . . .
padma: Will you bring your father to me?
apsara: He’s dying. Let him go.
padma: He shall die by my hand. You will help me.
apsara: I can’t see him again. Please.
padma: Listen. Listen to that sound.
The frenzied sound of eagles, frighteningly loud and close.
padma presses the meat against apsara’s face.
Will you help me?
apsara: I will . . .
She lets go of apsara.
padma: (to eagles) Come, my children. Come to Padma.
Two
Afternoon.
kamal and apsara are together.
They sit in silence for a while.
kamal: There are two kinds of silences. The first is a peaceful one. But the silence I hear right now, the silence that comes from you, is a loud, screaming silence.
apsara does not respond.
You should have stepped into the water with me.
apsara: What difference does it make?
kamal: We belong in the water. Together.
apsara: Stories don’t decide where I belong. I do.
kamal: By rejecting the water, you have chosen something else.
apsara: What’s that?
kamal: Revenge. The Apsara told the lotus that she could not truly love until she had taken revenge. The lotus begged her to stay, but the Apsara did not listen. When the Apsara returned to the lake after vanquishing the gods she looked for the lotus. She was crushed to find the lotus withered and dead on the surface of the water. She spent the rest of her days staring at her reflection in the water until she grew old, until she could no longer tell the difference between the ripples in the water and the lines on her face. Had she chosen water, things would have turned out differently.
apsara: What would have happened?
kamal: We’ll find out only if you join me.
apsara: I don’t understand you. How can you live in a story after spending so many years without sight?
kamal: If a snake bites you, what will you do? Will you spend your time chasing the snake, or ensuring that the poison does not paralyze you?
apsara: Once the poison enters your bloodstream it stays there forever.
kamal: Why don’t you want to see your father?
apsara: Why do you care?
kamal: We must know everything about each other. That’s the only way for us to find a way to . . . to solve this.
apsara: Tell me to dance.
kamal: What for?
apsara: Just tell me to dance.
kamal: Dance.
apsara: No, not like that. Command me. Command me to dance for you.
kamal: Dance for me, Apsara.
They are in the temple.
She dances.
At first, the dance is innocent. It is the dance of a girl.
apsara: Now let the force of your words turn a child into a woman.
kamal: Dance for me.
apsara: Say it as if every bit of flesh in your body is reaching for me.
kamal: Dance.
The dance becomes seductive.
apsara: Yes, Father. You are the most respected priest in the village. I am seven years old. Maybe eight.
She moves towards kamal.
She holds him, lies on the floor, lowering him as well.
She makes him lie on top of her.
She spreads her legs.
kamal tries to get off her.
apsara holds him by the hair and prevents him from getting off her.
You said we must know everything about each other.
She pulls his mouth close to hers.
She is trembling; her voice quivers.
I ask my father what he is doing. He tells me not to worry. He tells me to close my eyes. I am seven years old. Maybe eight. I look at my father’s face and his eyes are closed. He starts making sounds. His mouth smells of country liquor. So I turn my face away from him and stare at the white floor of the temple . . . and I feel my father’s amulet against my cheek, the cold steel of his amulet . . . as he rocks back and forth . . . back and forth . . . and whispers into my ear, “I love you, Apsara . . . I love you . . . ”
. . . And my father opens his eyes . . . he is pleased with me . . . he is full of sweat and he strokes my head, “You are the only thing I can ever love, Apsara . . . you are the only thing I love . . . ”
kamal finally breaks away.
kamal: I’m sorry . . . I . . . I had no idea.
apsara: Will you help me kill him?
kamal: What?
apsara: I want you to help me kill him.
kamal: I’m not a murderer. The lotus had no part in the revenge.
apsara: That’s why the two didn’t last. What if the lotus had helped the Apsara to seek revenge? Maybe the lotus would have survived. You won’t have to lay a finger on him.
kamal: I won’t allow you to kill.
apsara: My mother will do it.
kamal: You speak of this as though you are killing a goat or chicken.
apsara: So you think he deserves to live.
kamal: No, I . . . what good will it do?
apsara: All you need to do is lead him to us. Tell him I want to see him. Tell him I live alone. That my mother and I are separated.
kamal: I won’t lead a man to his death.
apsara: You said you loved me.
kamal: But this is madness.
apsara: You said it was a mad love.
kamal: This is not a game.
apsara: Of co
urse it is. “Close your eyes, Apsara. Don’t tell mother, otherwise I will kill her.” Trust me. It’s a game. Will you do it?
Pause.
You prefer to tend to the poison. I prefer to kill the snake.
He walks away.
Where are you going?
kamal: I . . . I don’t know.
apsara: Sit down. We’re not done yet.
kamal: We’re done. All these years I’ve been obsessed with finding you. I wanted to find the woman who blinded me. I wanted to find my wife. There’s a part of me that does not believe my sight is lost. I came here expecting to find something when I touched you.
apsara: No, that’s not why you’re here. You are here so you can bring me my father.
Three
padma and apsara on the swing.
padma: Did he agree?
apsara: No.
padma: Why not?
apsara: He’s too soft.
padma: Then make him hard.
apsara: This is your little fantasy, Mother.
padma: My dear daughter. This is about killing the man who raped you at the age of eight.
apsara: Seven. Not eight. If you’re going to kill him, get the facts straight.
padma: When your father called us whores and suddenly banished us from the village, he was right about one of us.
apsara: You could have fought him.
padma: I did. But he accused me of selling you for money. Everyone believed him. My own family spat on me. The entire village spat on us. Do you not remember? Or did you think their spit was nourishing rain? Perhaps you deserve to be spat on.
apsara: Yes. All those days when I shivered under his body, as he kept whispering that he would kill you if I told a soul . . . yes, I deserve to be spat on.
padma: You were a beautiful, horrible child. I saw how he looked at you. I saw the way his eyes moved.
apsara: You knew. You knew he wanted me and you created a little paradise for him.
padma: What wife does not look the other way? What wife can bear to see that the man she loves, the man she gave her heart to, is happier with a . . . with a child! It’s what women do. We’re taught to look the other way.
apsara: It was your idea to send me to the temple.
padma: I told you. It was your father’s. After the wedding, the villagers saw you as a threat. As something demonic.
apsara: I understand.
padma: What do you understand?
apsara: I was his universe. I understand how you feel, Mother. It’s one thing to be abused. But to be humiliated and completely unloved . . . perhaps that’s more painful.
apsara smiles.
Yes, that is more painful . . .
padma: Tell me, in all these years, have I ever forced you to live with me?
apsara stays silent.
Answer my question.
apsara: No.
padma: Have I ever stopped you from leaving?
apsara: No.
padma: Then why do you choose to live with me?
apsara: I need you to put food in my mouth.
padma: On the contrary; I need you. Dance is your gift. Not mine. You could go and dance in any one of Bombay’s bars. Bar girls make lots of money. Tell me the real reason you continue to stay by my side.
apsara: That is the real reason.
padma: No, my dear. The truth is you are terrified of leaving, of being on your own. Even when we go to the market, you hang on to my sari like a little child. You live in my shadow because it makes you feel warm. You hope that by staying with me, someday we can put the past behind us and we’ll have a normal mother-daughter relationship. You know, we’ll have our quarrels, but we’ll also chit-chat, watch movies, go for walks. But more than anything, you are looking for me to tell you that the pain you feel will go away. You want some solution to that pain. Now I’m giving it to you.
Picture this, my love: Your father will come to meet his beloved. The two of you will sit on this swing and talk. There will come a point when he will rest his head on your shoulders and you will comfort him, breathe into his ear like you did when he was on top of you. You will stroke his back, his smooth lizard’s back, and you will think of the time you lay under him, trembling, your head turned to the side like a corpse, and that is when I will walk up to him, tap him on the back, look him in the eye, and . . .
padma moves towards the exit.
apsara: Where are you going?
padma: To fetch Kamal.
apsara: He won’t do it. He’s not a killer.
padma: Everyone’s a killer. It’s just a matter of incentive.
Four
padma enters the room.
This time she helps kamal walk.
kamal: You’re helping me find my way this time.
padma: You scratch my back . . . or I’ll scratch your eyes out.
kamal: There’s not much you can do to me that life hasn’t already.
padma: It’s dangerous to think that way, my friend.
kamal: I am not your friend.
padma: Have a seat.
kamal: I’ll stand.
padma: I’ll keep it simple then. There is something I want from you.
kamal: I know.
padma: There is something you want from me.
kamal: I want nothing from you.
padma: You want Apsara.
kamal: Apsara is not yours.
padma: The problem with you is that you rely too much on sound. The most important things are unspoken.
kamal: Enlighten me.
padma: Hate makes for much stronger glue than love. Apsara and I are connected with a beautiful common hatred. A bond that will last a lifetime.
kamal: She can choose to leave you.
padma: It’s been ten years since she saw her father. But he is by her side every second. It’s the same with me. You can take her with you. But you will never have her. Only I can give her to you.
kamal: I’m listening.
padma: Bring my husband to me. And you shall have Apsara. After all, she does love you.
kamal: She said that?
padma: Not at all. But in all these years, she’s never spoken to a man. Even the smell of a man makes her ill. She is at ease with you and it frightens her. She is afraid that you are a man who might be good for her. All she needs is for me to tell her that she can love. That she can be loved.
kamal: And you will do that?
padma: If you bring my husband to me.
kamal: There’s no guarantee that she will go with me. She might still choose to stay with you.
padma: Not if I don’t give her that choice.
kamal: What do you mean?
padma: I have no use for Apsara once my husband is gone. The only reason I kept her was because I knew he would come back for her. Once he is gone, I will go too.
kamal: What will you do?
padma: I don’t know. I’ll go back to my village. Watch children fly kites. Grow vegetables. And then one day, as I’m plucking my beloved tomatoes and carrots, I’ll slice my throat. Or maybe I won’t. In a way, my future is in your hands. Can you bring yourself to kill a child-fucker in order to gain Apsara?
kamal: I think I can.
padma: Don’t think.
kamal: I can. I will.
padma: Then I shall give you your wife back.
kamal: I’d like to speak to her before I leave.
padma: I’m not done yet. I’d like to know about my husband. I need to form a fresh picture of him in my mind. It’s been ten years. Would you mind answering a few questions?
kamal: Go ahead.
padma: What does he sound like? Is his voice still rough and raspy?
kamal: You don’t need to test me. His voice is smooth.
kamal: Except when he coughs.
padma: Is he dying of TB?
kamal: He wouldn’t say.
padma: What else?
kamal: What would you like to know?
padma: Does he live alone?
kamal: No, he has a servant.
padma: Man or woman?
kamal: An old woman.
padma: I see. Did he mention Apsara to you?
kamal: Yes. I told him I was looking for her. He said he didn’t know where she was. He said that if I ever found her I should let him know.
padma: What else did he say about her?
kamal: That he would like to see her before he dies.
padma: Did he say why?
kamal: He wants to be at peace. He said she is the only thing he ever loved.
padma: Is that what he said?
kamal: Yes.
padma: Tell me his exact words.
kamal: I just did.
padma: Word for word. Say it.
kamal: “Apsara is the only thing I ever loved.” That’s what he said.
padma: Again.
kamal: “Apsara is the only thing I ever loved.”
padma: Again.
kamal: “Apsara is the only thing I ever loved.”
padma: One last time.
She exits.
kamal: “Apsara is the only thing I ever loved.”
apsara enters.
Apsara?
apsara: Yes.
kamal: Before I fetch your father, I want you to be sure.
apsara: What did my mother tell you to make you agree?
kamal: I just want you to be sure that you want him dead. Think hard. This is not something we can ever come back from.
apsara: When I remember the first time I saw his cock, I want him dead. When I think of my mother and the fact that she knew what he was doing to me, I want her dead. The rest of the time I feel numb. It’s like trying to decide if I should raise my right hand or my left hand to scratch an itch. Does it matter?
kamal: Is the itch really there?
apsara: It’s there. The itch is there.
kamal: I want you to take a good look at yourself.
apsara: I know what I look like. I have mirrors.
