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A model short story:
The Proposal
Sita KULATUNGA
'What shall I wear?' Wimala pondered without much enthusiasm. The
first time a prospective bridegroom visited (that man was from Kadawatha),
she was quite excited. This one would be the tenth or the eleventh, she
couldn't be sure,
'The pink, I wore when the tall man with the stammer came', she
thought, 'so better not wear that, the mauve was worn for the good
looking young man from Horana, who looked much younger than me! she
liked him but apparently he didn't liked her. She could never know
whether he didn't agree because the dowry was too small or because he
did not like her looks. She liked to think that it was the dowry.
There were just two months to go for her next birth day and then she
would be thirty five. A good job just as she passed out would probably
have made all the difference. A job like the one that Nihara got, but
then Nihara was so fluent in English.
The teaching job that she had finally managed to get was the last
resort, that too after such a great deal of trouble, running after
various politicians. Some of them who gave letters of recommendation did
not have even the O'levels, she thought resentfully, remembering how she
had to get up at four O'clock in the morning and trudge to a Deputy
Minister's office.
'I shall wear the purple saree with orange flowers, no harm if it is
too colourful, but what would akka say, when she turns up? Hope Suren
the little nephew would come too. How nice to have a child like Suren or
a little girl. Those days when akka's affair with Gunasiri ayya came to
be known how critical her parents had been-but now after he had made
some money, those things are forgotten.
Wimala went before the old dressing table and looked hard at her
face. 'Were there more wrinkles now than there were last month.' At
least the cobwebs behind the dressing table have gone. One good thing
that these visits does is that the house gets a thorough cleaning.
She seemed to associate the smell of broken cobwebs with bride-groom
visits.
"Aren't you ready yet? We also got late because Gunasiri had some
urgent work to attend to. Hurry up now, it's almost three and they will
be here any moment."
"Don't worry, there is time, even if they come now I won't be going
out to meet them immediately, where's Suren?"
"You can see to Suren later, he ran off with Banda to try out a kite.
What are you going to wear?" Seela, the elder sister went on
breathlessly, "this is too dark, good for an old woman"
"I am an old woman, am I not?" Wimala said slowly trying to slow down
the sister's officious bustle.
"Don't say mad things, wear this, white with red dots. It is good for
this time of the day and take my ear studs with the red stones. It
matches nicely. I can wear your pair for the time being. Should not stay
with bare ears on a good day like this." Seela left the room only after
Wimala had started wrapping the saree round her body.
"Now I am a veteran at this game, probably past the age to get
excited, it is like getting dressed to go to school or for an interview.
How many job interviews I have gone for?".
"Aren't you ready yet child?" the mother walked in , just as Wimala
thought she would, 'like actors in a play, the sets, the prompters. The
tray with a comb of plantains and cake must be now ready. Mother had
changed her saree too.'
"If this affair at least comes through" mother said. 'Bound to be
like the others who came' Wimala muttered under her breath, with
resentment emerging. She had an attachment for Cyril when she was in the
Advanced Level class. It was crushed in the bud by her parents,
particularly by her late father who thought Cyril's family socially
inferior to theirs.
Now Cyril was working in the Middle East and the house he was
building near his old home in the village, beat every other house in the
neighbourhood. Wimala recalled how her mother too had talked about their
pedigree, and their position in the village. Even by then her father's
native doctor's practice had ceased to draw many patients. People no
longer wanted to patronize native doctors.
As their problems worsened, a small plot of land too had been sold.
That was the only bit of land with a clear title. She heard that Cyril's
mother had said 'Veda's family don't event have a nail to scratch the
arse with, but they talk big.' That was many years ago and she couldn't
remember who carried the tale back to her mother.
She heard a car coming up the drive and the bang of car doors, then
mother and uncle receiving visitors. 'Iskole Bappa must be fed up with
these visits too, she thought 'having to come and officiate here
eveytime some fellow turns up to see me. This time the broker was not
Diyonis and not as talkative as the last one, probably doesn't lie as
much either.
Wimala thought as if judging a situation unconnected with her self.
Younger sister, Nimala who had just returned from her tuition came in
and interrupted her thoughts. "Not too bad, balding from behind a
little, forty fivish, clothes, a bit crushed, better than the joker from
Kosgaseniya - Not much of a Manamalaya look though" Nimala's commentary,
an imitation of the radio television commentators' style amused Wimala
and she laughed. It was good that she didn't have to take a tray of
betel, that custom had somehow been dropped.
"Be quiet, without talking nonsense, what is a Manamalaya look?" -
Wimala said still laughing. If they were quiet they would overhear the
conversation in the sitting room. She then heard snatches of
conversation that was dragging itself up with difficulty like a double
bullock cart going uphill.
"Extremely hot these days," the broker said.
"Seasons are also changed now," an elderly voice joined in. Wimala
thought 'that must be an old uncle of the bridegroom.'
Nimala stretched herself on the bed and closed her eyes "call me when
we can eat something. I am hungry"
"Our son-in-law couldn't come today because he had some work. Don't
you know these business people. Work, all the time?".
"Everyone is so busy these days," somebody else said.
"Mother came bustling into take her. Wimala took the tray without
hesitation or coquetry. She wanted to finish off this embarrassing
business. She hardly saw the man as she offered him the cake.
Then she sat on a chair next to her mother, but from that point she
could not see the bridegroom properly. She answered the few queries made
by older relatives. After some time she withdrew and would come out
again only when they were leaving, to bid farewell she sat on the bed
and awaited the call to wish them good bye.
These ones were taking longer than it was usual with such visitors.
She saw the broker stepping out with one of their people and then
whispering with Iskole bappa.
"The applicant was not too bad, younger men wouldn't like me. But
this one too will go away when he hears about the dowry."
She knew that a part of the only paddy land they possessed too had
been added to the dowry. Then the broker's voice cut in, she heard his
voice-'very happy-no need to postpone our word.'
"Does it mean that they agree,? that means I have to agree too' she
panicked. What on earth am I to do? didn't see the man too well either"
she thought.
"Imagine seeing this unknown stranger naked, sharing a bed with him."
She shook Nimala by the shoulder. Nimala had been pretending to sleep
and now she raised her head and said. 'You'll agree won't you?"
"Perhaps", Wimala said. |
