Read Swimming in the Monsoon Sea for Free Online

between the sisters. Selvi immediately released her grip on him. “Sorry, Amrith.” She patted his arm. “I forgot that it was —”
    A frown from Mala silenced her.
    “Forgot what?” Amrith cried, with sudden recklessness. “What did you forget?”
    “Nothing,” Selvi mumbled, and went to sit at the foot of Mala’s bed.
    Amrith was furious at them for this delicacy around his mother’s death anniversary. He wanted to yell, “Stop pretending this is just another day!” But he could not bring himself to do so.
    The girls went back to painting each other’s toenails, which they had been doing before his arrival. Selvi looked a little shamefaced as the sisters sat at either end of Mala’s bed, their feet in each other’s laps.
    Looking at them, Amrith felt ragged with envy. It was so unfair that their lives were normal, that nothing stood in the way of their futures. They were free, unshackled by the taint of an awful past. And just by thinking this, a gulf opened up between him and the girls. A gulf that had begun to grow in the last year.
    Amrith threw himself down on Selvi’s bed. He lay on his side, his head propped by his elbow. “So-so, Selvi, have you heard of Mala’s latest ambition?”
    Mala flushed with dismay. “Amrith!” she cried, “You promised not to tell. It was a secret.”
    He could see the hurt flooding her eyes, but he could not stop himself. He wanted to hurt her, as if her pain would bring him relief from his own darkness.
    A hideous grin spread across his face. “Guess what our Mala told me?” he said to Selvi.
    “What-what?” she asked eagerly.
    He paused dramatically. “Our Mala wants to be a nun.”
    He waited for his words to have their effect. Selvi’s eyes widened in astonishment, then she fell back on the bed, clutching her sides and hooting with laughter.
    “Amrith,” Mala said, close to tears, “I’ll never-ever tell you anything again.”
    Amrith tossed his head in contempt. She always confessed her secrets to him and, even though sooner or later he would betray her in this way, it never stopped her from telling him again.
    He told Selvi that Sister Dominica, with whom Mala taught English to poor children in their parish, had recently informed Mala that she might have the gift of a vocation bestowed on her by God. Mala, who was always taking up one scheme or another with great fervor, had been thrilled at this new possibility. She now believed that she was destined to be a nun and had told Amrith that she intended to take her vows the moment she finished her A levels.
    All this made Selvi laugh even harder.
“Chee,”
she cried at her sister, “why would you want to do something so ghastly as become a nun? Only dried-up spinsters who can’t get married enter the nunnery.”
    “There are lots of nuns who
choose
to dedicate their life to God, akka,” Mala said, with an attempt at dignity.
    “What nonsense — life of unhappiness.” Selvi tossed her head in disdain.
    “I think we should tell Uncle Lucky about Mala’s ambition,” Amrith said. “He’ll be so upset, he’s bound to have a talk with that Sister Dominica.”
    “Amrith! Are you mad? Do you want me to die of mortification?” Mala cried.
    “Yes-yes,” Selvi said, in her older-sister voice, “Sister Dominica needs a good telling off for leading fourteen-year-old girls like you into a path of such misery. If Amrith doesn’t tell Appa, I’m definitely going to inform him.”
    Mala looked from one to the other with such desperation that they burst out laughing again.
    “If you become a nun,” Amrith said, “you’ll have to cut your hair short and get up at five every morning for the rest of your life.”
    “And sleep on a hard bed in a dormitory full of other nuns. Not to mention lining up for the toilet, which will probably be a squatting pan.” Selvi gestured to the Shaun Cassidy album that lay on Mala’s bed. “No pop music. Only dreary hymns.”
    “And you can forget about seeing