Tuesday, February 14, 2012
I scanned through my bookshelf, and The God of Small Things catches my eye.
I pick it up, settle myself against my wardrobe, looking for that comfortable spot because I know I am going to be there a while. I flip through the pages looking at the half-remembered passages I studied in 2006 fondly. But I am stalling.
I resist the urge to head to the part where Ammu and Velutha have that realisation/awareness about each other and then to the very last pages of the book. I want to hold off a little longer because the waiting builds it up and when I am flipping the pages more quickly, I know that it's time. I locate the first part. I lap up every word. But this passage only serves to increase the anticipation for the very end. So I start from the last page and flip backward, and avoid looking at any of the words. (I don't want to spoil it).
It starts with Velutha and his disappointment. And then how Ammu, with the 'cheap coincidence' of the lyrics on her mind, running to the river. Each disappointed at first, convinced (yet, I am sure, with the embers of hope still) that it was all a mistake. Feeling foolish that they were so certain. But it wasn't a mistake. The glorious ending of...How they found each other. How they loved each other through the terror and fear. How it could have been.
Amidst my tears, I linger and read it as slowly as possible. All because, more than I ever did at 18, understand those feelings that Ammu had. When I read her parts of the novel, and how it sorts of resonates - makes me feel like I've grown.
Maybe even able to call myself a woman, for real.Labels: The loss of Velutha
