Book Title: Do Not Ask the River Her Name
Author: Sheela Tomy
Translator: Ministhy S.
Publisher: Harper Perennial India
Number of Pages: 328
ISBN: 978-9362139900
Date Published: Junl. 29, 2024
Price: INR 379
Book Excerpt
Chapter 23
Bhargavi Kutty
Hours must have passed by. Ruth did not recollect how long she had lain like that. From the sky above, a drop fell on her forehead. One, two, three, four … raindrops. Her dried lips were moistened. The water drops clung to her eyelids, caressed her cheeks and slithered to the hollow on her throat … winding their way down … to the life-giving cells. Greedily, Ruth opened her lips, and wet her tongue … She forced her eyes open. ‘Ruth, you are still alive!’
The drowsiness was not leaving her. She could hear the chirping of birds at a distance. Was it a delusion? She moved her limbs, and tried to sit up. The exhaustion was no longer intense. A hunchback was descending the slope of a high hill by her right.
‘Little one, don’t be afraid. I am here.’ Valiyammachi!
‘Is this a dream, Valiyammachi?’ The rain was real. The drizzle had soaked her skin. There was a huge stone nearby and a paper was fluttering beneath it. Ruth stretched her hand. In blue ink, the letters were in perfect alignment.
‘The order was to kill, but I couldn’t do it. Wait till sunrise. Then look at the sun and move east. Within a kilometre’s distance, there is a motorable road. Just beyond a sand mountain. Climb it slowly. Surely, a car will come. Sincere apologies.’
Bereft of compassion, the wicked one had run away, leaving behind his apology in a few lines!
How long for the sun to rise? Ruth did not know. She stood up slowly. A snakeskin lay nearby. The serpent’s sinuous path was imprinted on the sand. She shuddered. Ruth could see a few small animals prowling on the hill to her left—some sort of a pack. Wolves and foxes were a common sight in the deserts. ‘Lord, would they harm me?’ As she watched fearfully, the animals frolicked down the hillside. Their horns glinted in the moonlight. As Ruth held her breath, the herd of deer leapt past gracefully.
‘Have you forgotten the forests at Padamala? Little one, if you don’t harm them, the animals shall never disturb you,’ Valiyammachi’s voice echoed.
The bitter cold increased with the passage of time and Ruth found herself shivering. She walked towards the sand mountain, her hands crossed across her chest. Since her body, combating the intense chill, was trembling, and her legs were being sucked in by the sand, Ruth’s walk had been reduced to a crawl now.
Valiyammachi was walking ahead, holding on to her stick. Ruth’s strength, solace, resilience. ‘And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.’ Valiyammachi’s trembling lips were murmuring.
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Ruth was startled at the sight of a thin snake slithering in front. Its smooth body glittered in the moonlight.
‘Snakes are out to delight in the summer rain. Be careful.’ Valiyammachi used the tip of her walking stick to remove it from their path. It crawled away into a hole beyond the thorny plants.
‘Higher, higher …’ Valiyammachi called out, as she made her way up the hill.
It was a very difficult climb. After what seemed like ages, Ruth reached the summit. The desert spread all around in the moonlight.
At a distance, Ruth saw a fire. Who would be kindling fire at this time? As she strained to see, she could discern a few tents. Ruth felt both relief and dread. She was definitely not in a risk-prone area of the desert. There was a chance to escape. But then, who would be camping over there? The dread began, and as she vacillated, a grunting sound was heard. Was it the wind? An aeroplane? Two lit-up eyes started moving from the campsite. Headlights of a vehicle! It trundled towards her, as she stood numb with terror.
‘Valiyammachi, will the vehicle help me?’
As Ruth looked around, Valiyammachi was no longer to be seen. The vehicle stopped suddenly. ‘Ruth, they will help you reach the city.’ The mind propelling her, Ruth hurriedly started descending the hill and her feet gathered speed. By the time she clambered down, the vehicle started grunting again. As she watched on, it climbed over a sand hill and disappeared from sight.
‘Where are the fires? The camps? Was it all an illusion? Ruth, at this moment, are you yourself a fantasy? Perhaps I am dead or lying unconscious somewhere …’ Ruth whimpered.
Colours started spreading at the corner where the sky met the earth. That was the east! She started walking in that direction. Chirpings of birds. The desert was awakening. She must have walked for almost an hour or more. But there was no trace of any motorable road. Though the cold was abating, Ruth’s body was still reeling from the frost. Colours were spilling over at the horizon now. The sun was rising reluctantly. Ruth was yet again seized with the feeling that she was dreaming.
There was a gravel path trailing away to the right, with some sort of a hut on its side. She dragged herself towards it with great hope. A shack? A room without a door, a wooden bench in front of it. The bridge between death and life …
‘Ruth, you have reached a human habitation!’ Her heart leapt in joy inside the fatigued body. She stooped down like a question mark on the bench. There was a prayer on her lips; Valiyammachi’s psalm: ‘Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.’
Ruth heard the rumble in the middle of a nap and she woke up, startled. The vehicle arrived like a flying saucer and halted in front of the shack. A young woman in a pickup van. She was dressed like a gypsy. A lengthy garment covered her from head to toe. Ruth remembered reading about Bedouin women who drove pickup vans. The girl was humming a tune as she disembarked from the van. Seeing the hunkered-down woman on the bench, she stood disconcerted. After evaluating the strange creature, the girl stepped inside the hut. She was carrying a container in her hand. Soon, water was boiling on the stove. She came out with a warm cup of Suleimani tea. An enchanting aroma of masala filled the air. She observed Ruth warily. When she gestured to Ruth to sip the beverage, Ruth obeyed. Ruth felt that it was the tastiest tea she had ever drunk in her life. The girl did not utter a single word. Yet, her kind, poignant look and the spice-scented, cold dawn would be imprinted indelibly in Ruth’s memory.
The Bedouin girl placed her hand on Ruth’s forehead and let out a shrill cry of alarm. Perhaps she was alerting her about a fever. Refilling Ruth’s cup, she stood staring at the road, as if expecting someone to arrive soon …
The girl had petite feet. There was a silver anklet around her left ankle. She looked into Ruth’s eyes and smiled occasionally. The smile was their language of communication. Ruth would remember the scene, with an overwhelmed heart, many times again. Soon, the girl handed over to Ruth an earthen cup filled with warm milk. Ruth would embarrassedly recall that she had morphed into a famished spectre, due to the combined attacks of fear and hunger. Ruth went on repeating, ‘Dubai, Deira’, as if she was crazy, seemingly afraid of forgetting those words. As she mulled over the incident after a passage of time, Ruth would surmise that though it was a horrifying day, there was a strange, surreal quality to it.
When the sun became brighter, Ruth caught sight of another vehicle on the gravel pathway. She was familiar with that particular four-wheeler. Her heart started palpitating fast. Stopping the vehicle before the shack, the young man stepped out with folded hands.
‘Please get in,’ he requested humbly.
Ruth and the girl gazed at each other.
In the same vehicle, on the same seat, a journey back to Dubai. Ruth cast a backward glance before the hut disappeared from her view.
The man was silent.
‘Why didn’t you kill me?’ Ruth glared at him.
‘Your time to die hasn’t arrived yet.’
Excerpted with permission from Do Not Ask the River Her Name by Sheela Tomy and Ministhy S., Published by HarperCollins India.
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