The time she had spent as a prostitute — the days and nights of the past five years — was all that mattered to her. She was not as happy as she had dreamed of being, and yet she was content. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she were planning to build a palace. Money wasn’t an issue. She usually charged ten rupees, from which Ram Lal took a two and a half rupee cut, and so she got seven and a half rupees a day, and that was enough. When Madho came from Pune to ‘poke’ her, as Ram Lal liked to put it, she handed over ten or fifteen rupees although she did this only because she had a crush on him. Ram Lal was right — there was something about Madho that Saugandhi liked.
Why don’t I just go ahead and tell you everything.
When Saugandhi met Madho, he had said, ‘You don’t feel ashamed? Do you know what you’re selling me? Why do you think I’ve come? Chi, chi, chi. Ten rupees, and like you say, two and a half are your pimp’s. What’s left, seven and a half, right — seven and a half? For seven and a half rupees you promise to give me something you can’t give, and I’ve come for something I can’t just take. I want a woman, but do you want a man? Any woman will do for me, but do you really like me? What’s our relationship? It’s nothing, nothing at all. Only these ten rupees — two and half are your pimp’s and the rest you’ll waste — they’re all that connects us. You’re eyeing it, and I’m eyeing it. Your heart says something, and my heart says something. Why shouldn’t we make something together? I’m a head constable in Pune. I’ll come once a month for three or four days. Stop doing this. I’ll buy everything for you. What’s this room’s rent?’
Madho went on to say many more things, the sum of which had such a strong effect on Saugandhi that for several moments she felt like a head constable’s wife. Madho tidied the room and took the initiative to tear up the pornographic photos at the head of her bed. Then he said, ‘Saugandhi, dear, I won’t let you put up pictures like that. And this water pitcher — look how dirty it is! And this — this rag, these rags — aghh! — what an awful smell! Throw them outside. And what have you done to your hair? And …’ Saugandhi and Madho talked for three hours, and afterwards Saugandhi felt as though she had known him for years. No one ever paid any attention to the room’s smelly rags, the dirty pitcher, or the pornographic photos. No one ever treated her room like a home, where domestic concerns were possible. Men came and left, without even noticing how filthy her bed was. No one said, ‘Look how red your nose is today! I hope you don’t catch a cold. Wait here. I’ll go get some medicine.’ Madho was really good. Everything he said was irreproachable. How incisively he had scolded her! She began to feel she really needed him and that was how their relationship began.
Madho came from Pune once a month and before going back always said, ‘Look, Saugandhi, if you take up your old job, well, then our relationship is over. If you let even one man sleep here, I’ll grab you by your hair and throw you out. Look, as soon as I get to Pune I’ll send a money order for this month’s expenses. Remind me, what’s the rent here?’
But neither did Madho send any money nor did Saugandhi stop being a prostitute. Both knew very well what was going on. Saugandhi never asked Madho, ‘What’re you blathering on about? Have you ever given me anything?’ And Madho never asked Saugandhi, ‘Where did you get this money? I didn’t give it to you.’ Both were lying, and both were pretending. But Saugandhi was happy just as those who can’t wear real gold become content with imitation trinkets.
Completely exhausted, Saugandhi had fallen fast asleep with the light on. It hung overhead, and its sharp light fell directly on her eyes but she didn’t wake up.
There was a knock at the door. Who would come at two in the morning? The rapping penetrated Saugandhi’s sleep only faintly, as a fly’s buzzing would. The knocking intensified, and she lurched awake. Her mouth was full of bitter and viscous saliva, its taste a mixture of the previous night’s liquor and the small bits of fish wedged between her teeth. She wiped off the smelly paste with the hem of her lungi and rubbed her eyes. She saw she was alone. She bent over to look underneath the bed — her dog was grimacing through his sleep, his mouth propped up on the dried-out sandals. Then she looked over at the parrot’s cage and saw the parrot sleeping, its head lodged in the feathers of its back.
Someone was knocking. Saugandhi got up, her head throbbing. She scooped a ladleful of water from the pitcher and gargled. She guzzled another ladleful and went to the door to crack it open.
‘Ram Lal?’
Ram Lal was tired of knocking. ‘Are you dead or what?’ he asked, furiously. ‘I’ve been standing here knocking myself silly. Where were you?’ Then he lowered his voice and asked, ‘Is anyone inside?’
Saugandhi shook her head, so Ram Lal shouted, ‘Then why didn’t you open the door? Aghh! I’ve had enough of this. That must have been some sleep, huh? I’m never going to make it in this business if I have to beat my head against a wall for two hours just trying to get a girl out of bed. And why are you staring at me like that? Quick, take off that lungi and put on your flowery sari. Powder your face and come with me. There’s a rich man waiting for you in his car. Hurry up!’
Saugandhi sat down in the easy chair, and Ram Lal came in and started combing his hair in front of the mirror. Saugandhi reached towards the stool, picked up a jar of balm, and opened its lid. ‘Ram Lal, I’m not in the mood today.’
Ram Lal put the comb back in the niche and turned around. ‘You should have said so first.’
Saugandhi rubbed balm across her forehead and temples. ‘Not that, Ram Lal,’ she said. ‘It’s not that. I just don’t feel good. I drank a lot.’
Ram Lal’s mouth began to water. ‘If there’s any left, hand it over! I want some too.’
Saugandhi put the jar of balm on the stool. ‘Do you think I’d have this damn headache if I didn’t drink it all? Look, Ram Lal, bring your guy up here.’
‘No, no, he won’t come. He’s a gentleman. He was even anxious about his car being in the alley. Put on something and come with me. You’ll start feeling better.’
All this trouble and just for seven and a half rupees. When Saugandhi had a bad headache, she usually wouldn’t work, but now she really needed the money. The husband of a Madrasi woman who lived next door had been killed by a car. Now this woman had to return with her young daughter to Madras, but she didn’t have enough money to cover the journey. She was worried to the point of distraction. Saugandhi had reassured her just the day before, ‘Don’t worry. My boyfriend’s about to come from Pune. I’ll get some money from him and buy your tickets.’ Madho was indeed about to come, but Saugandhi would have to come up with the money on her own. With all this in mind, she got up, quickly changed into her flowery sari and put on some rouge. She drank one more ladleful of water and went out with Ram Lal.
The alley, larger than some small towns’ markets, was completely silent. The light from the streetlights was weak, as their fixtures had been painted over due to the war. She could just see a car parked at the alley’s far end, and the black car looked like a shadow in the mysterious silence of the night’s last hours. Saugandhi felt as though her headache had spread across the entire scene, and even the wind seemed bitter, as though it too felt the after effects of the brandy and moonshine.