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woman’s life?
    â€œDurga,” she said with a sigh, “you always did make the best sweets. You should have opened a shop of your own.”
    A dizziness assailed Sabitri at being called by her mother’s name. Her smile fell away. Once again, Leelamoyi had forgotten who she was. How could you avenge yourself against such oblivion?
    â€œI have to leave now,” Sabitri said. She had intended to mention that her car would be waiting downstairs, but she no longer had the energy.
    â€œStay a little longer,” Leelamoyi implored. When Sabitri apologized, she gave an angry laugh. “Yes, yes, I know. No one likes being around sick people. Even my own son is always in a hurry to leave. . . . At least help me sit up straighter before you go.”
    Sabitri felt a great reluctance to touch her, but out of old habit she found herself obeying. She placed her hands gingerly under Leelamoyi’s armpits and pulled. It was like lifting a sack. Traces of sweat were left on her fingers. A smell of staleness, like rotten eggs. It was all she could do not to rush out to find a tap and wash it off.
    â€œTurn on the radio,” Leelamoyi ordered. A program of devotional songs came on. “Who would have thought I’d turn religious! Age does strange things to us. Ah, you’ll come to it, too, soon enough. Bring the girl near me. I want to see her hair.” She put out a greedy hand.

    Downstairs, sitting on a bench in the dark passageway, I couldn’t stop trembling. The car wasn’t back yet—I knew it wouldn’t be. But Granddaughter, I couldn’t have stood that room, its bitter odors of disease and rage, for another second. It had been a mistake, coming here to gloat. I had wanted Leelamoyi to regret that she didn’t let Rajiv marry me, to see that I would have made a far better daughter-in-law than the one she chose. But now I felt only shame. Shame, and disgust at myself for using my daughter in this game. I promised myself I would never set foot in this house again.
    One good thing had come out of all this. I’d exorcised a demon. I would no longer lie awake at night, remembering Leelamoyi’s twisted face as she called me a whore. I would no longer hold conversations in my head, all the things I’d been too young and afraid to say at that time. I am a good person. I did nothing wrong. He loves me. I love him. I will make him happy because I am the only one to whom he can say what’s in his heart.
    There was another thing, Tara. As Leelamoyi spoke of Rajiv, I began to see him differently. All these years I’d been blinded by the longing we feel for what is snatched from us. Now I realized that he had been weak and pampered, too weak to stand up for me. He must have known that his mother had thrown me out of the house. But he hadn’t even inquired after me. Even if he was in a different city, it would have been easy enough to ask a friend to go to the college and find out what had happened.

    A fumbling at the door. The driver had arrived, thank God. Sabitri started gathering Bela’s dolls.
    But it was not the driver. It was Rajiv—as though she had conjured him up with her thinking. She recognized him at once, though he was heavier now. He wore expensive clothes, more expensive even than the fine white shirts of old, which Sabitri had sometimes unbuttoned so she could lay her head upon his chest. Once, to celebrate a promotion, she had taken Bijan to New Market to buy him a shirt like that, but he had shaken his head with a laugh. Something that expensive would burn my skin . He had walked out, not caring that the salesmen stared at him.
    Sabitri pulled the edge of her sari over her head. She would leave now. Leave and wait on the road. That was best. But as she passed Rajiv, she glanced up. She couldn’t help it. Ah, that face, those once-loved lips. How the useless past tugged at you, unsteadying the breath. Was that discontent in