crowed before him like a ridiculous peacock.
"Look around you, Ashish. Everything you see is mine— and much more than that besides. Every tree, every field, and every worker—all are mine. You, too! You belong to me. I can make you overseer if I wish, or I can send you to clean the latrine pit."
Ashish didn't move and the expression on his face never changed.
"I am not going to do things the way my brother did. I do not yet know all the changes I will make, but I will be a different landlord than he was," Saji Stephen said. "I will be a better one. Much better!"
Ashish stood so still he hardly seemed to breathe.
"You and all my other laborers must work especially hard, because I want my harvest to be the best one ever. I can put you in charge, but if I do, you must bring in the best harvest ever recorded on this land. If you succeed, I will reward you. But if you fail, I will have you sorely punished."
"I am an old man," Ashish said. "Overseer is a job for a young man."
Saji Stephen's eyes flashed. "It is a job for whichever man I choose!" But then, stepping closer, he lowered his voice and confided, "The truth is, you are smart for an Untouchable. Not smart like me, of course, but smart for your kind. I think most likely it is because of the time you spent with me when we were boys."
Ashish's face remained impassive.
Suddenly Saji Stephen's mood darkened. "That is it, then? Not a word of gratitude from you?"
Ashish would not look at Saji Stephen. He couldn't trust himself to hide the disgust he felt for the oppressor who dared call himself a friend. He half expected the landowner to stamp his feet and heave a rock at him. But instead Saji Stephen pointed his finger and declared, "You make certain the rice harvest is a good one. I will hold you personally responsible!"
The day was half gone, yet no laborers worked the paddies. They didn't exactly refuse, they simply discovered reasons to be elsewhere. And since they had neither seen nor heard anything from Saji Stephen, they didn't fear him. But Ashish knew. He shaded his eyes against the sunny glare and gazed above. Already traces of clouds had begun to show in the sky. The rains could well come early.
"We must get the laborers back to work," Ashish pleaded to Dinkar. "The plowing is not yet completed in even the first paddy, and in the next, the planting is hardly begun!"
"Yes," Dinkar said, "but not today. Today everyone is celebrating the cows' birthday."
Of course! According to Hindu legends, this was the birthday of Blaram, the older brother of Lord Krishna. How could Ashish have failed to notice?
"See? Already women and children file out to the animals' field with jars of water and baskets of flowers on their heads."
Yes, yes. The women would wash the cows and children would decorate the poor beasts with blossoms. Then the men would come along behind with special food for the cows.
With a disgusted sigh, Ashish headed back to his own hut.
"Look, Appa!" Shridula called out. She stepped back so he could see the picture of the cows on the front of their hut. She had painted it with blue rice paste.
"Birthday of the cows!" Ashish grunted. All the cows would be treated with great love and care, never mind the unplanted rice. Never mind the landlord's demands on him. Never mind what would happen tomorrow.
The cows' birthday celebration lasted only one day. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only problem. Without the imposing Master Landlord Boban Joseph's iron fist hovering over them, the laborers were of no mind to break their backs in the rice paddies. Why should they bend over in the hot sun hour after hour only to return at night to their own meagerly filled cooking pots? "At least we can tend our gardens and climb the trees in search of fruit," they said. No one spoke aloud of stealing rice from the fields.
"I do not want to be overseer," Ashish said to Dinkar.
"That is a good thing," Dinkar said, "because you are not. I am overseer."
"Yes.
"Look around you, Ashish. Everything you see is mine— and much more than that besides. Every tree, every field, and every worker—all are mine. You, too! You belong to me. I can make you overseer if I wish, or I can send you to clean the latrine pit."
Ashish didn't move and the expression on his face never changed.
"I am not going to do things the way my brother did. I do not yet know all the changes I will make, but I will be a different landlord than he was," Saji Stephen said. "I will be a better one. Much better!"
Ashish stood so still he hardly seemed to breathe.
"You and all my other laborers must work especially hard, because I want my harvest to be the best one ever. I can put you in charge, but if I do, you must bring in the best harvest ever recorded on this land. If you succeed, I will reward you. But if you fail, I will have you sorely punished."
"I am an old man," Ashish said. "Overseer is a job for a young man."
Saji Stephen's eyes flashed. "It is a job for whichever man I choose!" But then, stepping closer, he lowered his voice and confided, "The truth is, you are smart for an Untouchable. Not smart like me, of course, but smart for your kind. I think most likely it is because of the time you spent with me when we were boys."
Ashish's face remained impassive.
Suddenly Saji Stephen's mood darkened. "That is it, then? Not a word of gratitude from you?"
Ashish would not look at Saji Stephen. He couldn't trust himself to hide the disgust he felt for the oppressor who dared call himself a friend. He half expected the landowner to stamp his feet and heave a rock at him. But instead Saji Stephen pointed his finger and declared, "You make certain the rice harvest is a good one. I will hold you personally responsible!"
The day was half gone, yet no laborers worked the paddies. They didn't exactly refuse, they simply discovered reasons to be elsewhere. And since they had neither seen nor heard anything from Saji Stephen, they didn't fear him. But Ashish knew. He shaded his eyes against the sunny glare and gazed above. Already traces of clouds had begun to show in the sky. The rains could well come early.
"We must get the laborers back to work," Ashish pleaded to Dinkar. "The plowing is not yet completed in even the first paddy, and in the next, the planting is hardly begun!"
"Yes," Dinkar said, "but not today. Today everyone is celebrating the cows' birthday."
Of course! According to Hindu legends, this was the birthday of Blaram, the older brother of Lord Krishna. How could Ashish have failed to notice?
"See? Already women and children file out to the animals' field with jars of water and baskets of flowers on their heads."
Yes, yes. The women would wash the cows and children would decorate the poor beasts with blossoms. Then the men would come along behind with special food for the cows.
With a disgusted sigh, Ashish headed back to his own hut.
"Look, Appa!" Shridula called out. She stepped back so he could see the picture of the cows on the front of their hut. She had painted it with blue rice paste.
"Birthday of the cows!" Ashish grunted. All the cows would be treated with great love and care, never mind the unplanted rice. Never mind the landlord's demands on him. Never mind what would happen tomorrow.
The cows' birthday celebration lasted only one day. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only problem. Without the imposing Master Landlord Boban Joseph's iron fist hovering over them, the laborers were of no mind to break their backs in the rice paddies. Why should they bend over in the hot sun hour after hour only to return at night to their own meagerly filled cooking pots? "At least we can tend our gardens and climb the trees in search of fruit," they said. No one spoke aloud of stealing rice from the fields.
"I do not want to be overseer," Ashish said to Dinkar.
"That is a good thing," Dinkar said, "because you are not. I am overseer."
"Yes.
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