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“Remove my nose ring.” Though it was a figure of speech Geeta hadn’t heard for many years, she understood Farah’s plea: Make a widow out of me.
If she was this lonely, Geeta berated herself, she should get a damn dog.
her twisted footprints ensuring they ran toward her rather than away.
She’d first eaten her father’s salt, then her husband’s; it was time to eat her own.
A gram of prevention was worth a kilogram of revenge.
She had, Geeta noticed, a rather uncharming habit of finding amusement in everything, even premeditated murder.
chewing on my brains
Some tried to force such work onto local Dalits, an oppression that was technically illegal,
But, Saloni snapped back, if you sell one, that’s tradition?
Saloni’s feet may have been bare, her other coffers were full: she was sharp and funny and high caste and, above all, beautiful.
she was neither pleasantly nor unpleasantly surprised. She was just surprised.
He bristled. “I’m sorry for wanting more for you. I’m sorry that I can’t stand by while someone abuses you and you just take it.” “Abuses me?” Geeta laughed. “Saloni doesn’t abuse me!” “Just because she doesn’t hit you doesn’t mean it’s not abuse. You can abuse someone with the things you say or don’t say or…” He waved his hand, losing steam. “She doesn’t—” “She does. Because she’s jealous.”
One would give her children, but the other would help her raise them. One would make her cry, and the other would comfort her. So she asked Saloni, “Did something happen between you two?”
“That must be hard. Doing it alone.” Karem shrugged. “It’s hard with someone, too. That’s marriage.”
But to Geeta, the actual saddest thing, the real waste, was a woman with children she didn’t want.
Geeta snatched her hand back as if the door had turned into a man—“so
Sometimes she could be the worst fucking version of herself.
“I’m not really an animal lover.” “That’s okay. They do most of the loving anyway.”
“And how do you think I make my money?” Geeta snapped. “Disco dancing?”
like wet pages of a book Farah couldn’t even read.
