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Next Door
‘(From Next Door reviewed below)
ou think that with time they would have grown accustomed to it, but they never do. At least once, every day, your father says with a laugh, We hardly need the television, do we, folks next door provide enough entertainment. And your mother. Your mother's face is frequently dark and brooding. Like a thundercloud heavy with rain. If only 1 had known then, she hisses, we would never have bought this house.
They are right, of course. From daybreak till long into the restless night, there is a clamour and tumult in the house next door that manages to find its way around the edges of the bamboo wall that separates the two properties.
You arc tantalized by that barrier. It Is high, stretching well over your head, and it is strong. I h6 bamboo strips are woven tight together. But there are chinks. And you know where all the chinks are. That wall draws you and your brother like honeybees to nectar. What lies beyond is unspeakably alluring, and made even more so by your mother's constant warnings to stay away from it. You are frequently at that wall, one eye plastered to a chink. You settle down to the waiting. You draw deep into the well of your patience. Very often you see nothing at all. Just a column of sunlight that falls on a whitewashed wall.
And then, again, sometimes, you are lucky. Like the time you and your brother saw Maya, the girl next door, bathing at the open well in the backyard. You did not see very much, for Maya had a piece of cloth wrapped like a sarong around her, but once, when she bent down to soap her toes the cloth parted. There before you was a length of thigh -firm, muscled and yet so soft. Brown skin that gleamed in the sunlight - and the breath caught in your chest in a way it had never done before. You glanced at your brother then, and he would not meet your eye. His face was flushed. He turned away into the house. You were amused, but then you were only twelve and Rana was eighteen.
Maya has a mother. Tengesi, you and Rana have christened her, The Sour One, for she is as sour as a baby mango in April. You - and everybody else - are woken up every morning by Tengesi's venomous screeches that slice their way through the early morning mist and enter your warm dreams.
Wake up, you lazy dogs, is how Tengesi usually starts. Out of bed, you pigs, she screeches at her children.
CfO to hell, her son shouts back. Bitch.
Tengesi's reply is frenzied. How dare you, you worthless swine, how dare you talk to me like that? If your father were here he would teach you.
But he isn't here, is he? He left you, didn't he? The son is jubilant.
Soon after this, familiar kitchen sounds start up. Metallic sounds and sounds of liquid being poured as Maya makes tea. You imagine her hurrying. Sometimes when she is late you hear the slapping sound of flesh hitting flesh. You hardly every hear Maya. A soft murmur, a whimpering cry is all that you have heard.
But last week, you heard her voice clearly. The son had come in late at night - it was past then - drunk as usual. Immediately there followed a disturbance. Sounds of furniture crashing to the floor, metallic objects being Hung against hard surfaces. Tengesi's cracked voice hurling curses at her son. The sounds of a scuffle. And, clearly, Maya's voice breaking through the din.
Let me go, Dada, 1 beg of you. Please. Please.
Tengesi was hysterical now. You dog, get away from her.
A hard, smacking sound and a thud as something heavy hit the floor.
Your father had half-risen in his chair, but your mother was quickly by his side. Let it be, she said, it is of no use.
You looked at Rana. His knuckles were white on the edge of the table.
Next morning you overslept. The world was white with light and you were perplexed. As if something was missing. And then you had it. You hadn’t heard Tengesi's morning invocations. You never hear Tengesi again. And no one ever speaks of it. Not even Rana.
Months pass by. It has been quiet. Tengesi is still silent and Maya has not appeared. You think that maybe the women have gone somewhere.
Then one day, recently, Rana and you are walking to the teashop at the corner. You have to cross the house next door to get there. As you pass you see a figure on the veranda. It is Maya. She sees you and turns away. You see her belly, round as a giant grapefruit. Your ears are hot. You look at Rana. His face is tight and hard and his eyes scream at you. He walks briskly ahead.