The women who had previously been marveling at the young lady wearing a blouse now had an angry expression on their faces. It was fear that had caused this change in their attitude. “What a bold and flirtatious attitude! If we do not inform our masters of her inappropriate clothing, we’ll be doomed. We should go to her right now and make her take off her blouse and throw it away. If not, our masters may insert a pestle into our hair and twist it, bowing our backs to carry a boulder. Is she also a womankind who inappropriately dressed for her caste? What a disgrace for our village! We must not leave her like this.”

When the women who were wearing mundu approached the bloused woman, she placed charcoal in a coconut shell before carefully pouring some kerosene oil from a glass bottle and set it to fire. She then blew into a brass pipe – which was like a flute without holes – and the coals caught fire, bursting into flames and whirling like a jyoti.

The women waited for her to finish blowing, their mouths agape in awe as she stood up. Her gaze was piercing, her body held straight as if wooden boulder, her bodice adding to her beauty, her majestic pallu draped gracefully, and her black beauty that outshone even the wheatish ladies present; they were all rendered speechless.

In the meantime, Poomari – the mother-in-law – brought a pot of palm nectar from the hut and placed it on the triangular stone furnace in the courtyard. She filled the bottom of the furnace with the scraped palmyra fronds and chopped firewood already. She got the half-burnt coconut shell and the cinder inside from her daughter-in-law. She put it inside the furnace and blew it with the pipe. After the fire was lit strongly inside the furnace, she stood with her hands on her thighs and surveyed the women gathered around.

Her daughter-in-law offered the straw needles for the three cows and a calf tied in the nearby cowshed. She then caressed the crimson-coloured back of the calf, and as it bent its back and sniffed her face, she momentarily forgot the sorrow of living in the unfortunate place.

(to be continued)

This post is a part of the Blogchatter Half Marathon 2023 by https://www.theblogchatter.com/