Painted Ghosts, page 8
‘You see,’ Raj laughed, ‘a story of how a woman can tempt man with bad thoughts. You said it yourself, once a whore always one—’
‘So it seems,’ Carl nodded, smiling.
‘Once she is married to Yellamma she cannot marry a man, but must be there for all men.’ Raj pulled a packet from his shirt pocket and lit a cigarette.
‘Or what?’
Devi put her hands on her hips. ‘All the village is cursed. Women can’t have babies, all the rice dies in the fields. Bad things happen. We have to serve her.’
‘Sounds like a load of superstitious baloney.’
‘My friend ran away with a man to Mumbai and her sister died the next week.’
‘You believe that?’ Carl sniffed.
‘Can I dance for you again, sir?’ Devi smiled.
The night was dark and warm. He looked up. A shooting star flipped through the eastern sky and died. ‘Yes,’ he said as a message beeped on his phone. Reading it, he called to Raj. ‘She wants to ring me; she wants to talk.’
‘You have a woman in your life, sir? She is very lucky.’
‘My daughter, Melody,’ Carl told her. ‘I’ve been thinking about her.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Fifteen.’ Carl tapped his phone. ‘This Jake bloke’s been hanging round her, my mate back home texted me on the way down here. Jake’s my age for god’s sake. Not satisfied nicking money from us — She’s under age for god’s sake—’
‘Under age?’ Devi watched him.
‘A man cannot have a woman under sixteen. It’s the law.’
‘All girls I know would love to live in England.’
‘It’s eighteen here,’ Raj drew on his cigarette.
‘Police don’t do anything here,’ Devi said. ‘Police come to Devadasi and don’t care how old—‘
Raj scowled at her. ‘You want to live in England, but you never will.’ He wagged his finger at her. ‘You remember your place here. Jeldi. Quickly.’
‘Everyone has to know their place according to you, Raj?’ Carl challenged Raj.
‘You wanted me to find her.’ Raj scowled.
Ignoring him, Carl looked back at his phone. ‘I must ring her — soon—‘ He gently took Devi’s fingers and they smiled at each other. His palms were sweating as they walked hand in hand along the front of the temple. Stopping near the frieze of figures, he again explored their bodies with his hands. Drawing hers up with his, they traced the carved bodies before drifting into the darkness around the temple.
8
‘I’m so impressed, Shanta. What a scheme.’ Daphne sat herself near a smiling woman in her thirties who was sewing together purses. Kali Ko-op was contained in an old house with many rooms both upstairs and down. Crumbling at the outside edges, the dirty white building was situated in fields at the end of a track. The inside walls of the wide main room were decorated with paintings and hangings the women had made themselves. Around twenty women were busy working and chatting.
Shanta introduced her to Veena, a woman in her twenties in a yellow and purple sari who was weaving pieces of recycled fabric into rugs. Veena talked excitedly about her five year old daughter who was painting pictures next to her. ‘We can get her into school soon,’ Veena told her. ‘She can grow up and get a good job and look after her mother.’ They laughed, Veena showing Daphne how to weave in some of the fabric. ‘You are good, you must come and work here.’
Several other children were skipping about or sitting helping their mothers. Teenagers Chandra and Meena, were knitting baby clothes when Daphne sat with them telling her what a wonderful place Kali Ko-op was, how much it had changed their lives. ‘We can meet here,’ Chandra told her.
‘Not be on our own in our house,’ Meena added.
‘We can learn, we can be somebody.’
Three women who looked as though they were in their forties were painting icons of Shiva, Laxmi, Hanuman and Ganesh. One of them, Neela, talked about their friend Bhavna who had just got married. ‘She was lucky,’ Neela said, ‘she found a good man. He knows she is Devadasi but he loves her.’
‘A good man is hard to find,’ Daphne laughed with them.
Neela leaned forward to her, placing her hand on her arm. ‘Ben is good man. He look after us.’
‘Respect us,’ one of her friends added.
‘We sorry,’ the other said.
‘Good man,’ they all nodded.
‘Thank you.’ Daphne held back tears.
Other women were painting dancers, flowers and peacocks on little pots. Two girls who looked barely in their teens were painting little pictures of women carrying pots on their heads on the sorts of hand made paper Shanta supplied Paint Clever with and another two were carving tiny images of gods and goddesses out of wood.’
‘What a wonderful place, Shanta, you must be so proud—‘
‘Ben’s money and Ben’s help—’
‘He told me of course, but I had no idea what it was really like. It’s doing so much for the women’s confidence and esteem. And a place where they can meet and be themselves.’
‘Their mothers and sisters come and help — even one or two brothers.’
‘It’s more than a co-op then, it’s a community centre—’ Daphne observed.
‘I want it for all Devadasi in all villages.’
‘You will, you will—’ Daphne smiled, enjoying watching the women laughing and chatting while they worked. ‘Some of the produce comes to us, but you have other markets locally?’
‘We sell them in our shop in the village,’ Shanta said, ‘but we also take our wares to tourist places like Hampi and even up to Goa and supply shops and stalls. But it’s not the money that matters, it’s the women. They smile, they are happy, they have a life. Ben helped so much.’ Shanta got one of the women to bring them pineapple juice and a bowl of nuts. ‘We’ve been able to afford someone who comes in a few times a week and teaches them to read and write — in English and in Hindi. You can see their confidence rise every day. You can see them beginning to leave behind feelings of being dirty and worthless. He even helped pay for this old building to be renovated.’ She stopped, hiding her emotions.
‘Shanta?’ Daphne led her out through doors onto the veranda out of earshot of the women.
‘I cannot buy supplies for Paint Clever. Banks will not give loans.’
‘Ben’s money, Shanta—’
‘Big debts. I have to pay the women. The little income the co-op brings. If I don’t they have nothing to live on. They go back where they were. What good is that? It is worse — having known a different life—’
Daphne heard the voices, and two women singing as they worked. She looked in at the workbenches piled with materials and the walls hung with fabrics, several with lines of elephants head to tail across them. Large windows had red and gold curtains to curtail the heat and light, and although there was no air conditioning there were a couple of rickety fans on the ceiling, buzzing, and shaking in their holdings. And she imagined them all gone, the building dusty and empty except for the odd rat and the women on the street being propositioned by ugly old men.
‘It’s truly wonderful — they’re so happy.’
‘There are others who are learning culinary skills. In most restaurants you’ll see men cooking and waiting, but we planned to open a small restaurant run by women.’
The brick and wood building from Victorian times had a long veranda that opened out to a road that led to the village, up a track between trees. It had been a local landowner’s house, Shanta told her, and ironically a landowner who demanded it as his right to own several of the Devadasi women — although he was married with five children.
Two overweight men were relaxing in easy chairs smoking and chatting in the shade and being waited on by a young woman bringing cold drinks.
‘We even have beds upstairs if one of the women needs to stay overnight alone. Men are strictly not allowed up there.’ They laughed. ‘Many of the Devadasi girls and women have what they call a husband — a boyfriend — and they can come around pestering sometimes. We need security, Daphne. You see we can’t live entirely without men.’ She clapped her hands and laughed. ‘The two men you see up there, they are very good supporters of Kali Ko-op and all its ethics. If their boyfriends come there can be violence and we have to call the police. But strangely, being men, the police usually side with the boyfriends, seeing them as victims and the girls as predators. Can you believe it? Such is how things are here. So, we need the help of our own security system on the veranda.’ She laughed again. ‘They’re not always lying about being waited on, you mustn’t think that. They help with all the heavy work and they clear the land for growing—’
‘Men do have their uses, then?’ Daphne laughed with her. ‘I’m so impressed, Shanta. All this you’ve done — on your own—’
‘Like me, Ben believed in the Devadasi women — in their worth — that they could make something of their lives. If we can educate the women they can then have work and they can leave us and make way for others. And once they have work they can be independent and support themselves and their children.’ The women chatted and laughed as they worked. Shanta looked away from her.
‘It’s very good of you to come and see us Daphne, we thank you. All of us.’ Shanta was looking around the workers, as if searching for someone.
‘It’s the least we can do.’
Breeze wafted through the open doorway and windows, playing with the curtains and bringing with it the smell of onions, garlic, ginger and spices cooking.
‘That smells just heavenly, Shanta.’
‘You will have something to eat with us?’
‘You have to ask?’ Daphne smiled.
A woman brought cups of tea on a tray and the workers took a break, some going outside, others in a huddle laughing.
Shanta looked around again. ‘They are all here. Except one.’ Shanta watched them with the eyes of a worrying mother. ‘I worry about her.’
‘This should be a model for lots of places around India.’
‘Devi,’ Shanta continued about her truant. ‘She’s a new girl. Her father treated her badly and abused her. Then he died and her mother dedicated her to Yellamma — there was no money, they couldn’t survive without the income a Devadasi can bring in and her mother is sick now and I don’t want her going back to the old ways. She’s bright, we can find some good work for her, maybe even send her to college.’
‘When she knows the co--op is going to thrive now, she’ll come running back, you’ll see. I’m so pleased. I’m a sentimental old woman I know, but Shanta, I feel I’ve found a new friend in you. We can work together, I know we can. I can come over here, and you can come to England. Let’s agree on that.’ She held her hand out for Shanta and she took it and shook.
A woman brought in some homemade sweets, Ladoo, Jalebi and Gulab Jamun, and passed them around on a plate to laughter and cries. Shanta said something to the woman about Devi then turned back to Daphne. ‘So many of the younger women find it hard not to go back to the old ways. We discourage it, and if we know someone is regularly doing sex work we suspend her for a while and offer her counselling — usually me, although I’m not qualified. But sometimes one of the women teachers helps in that too. The idea is to get them out of that way of life and to see that they are worth more than just the playthings of men. But it is a losing battle sometimes. Devadasi women often don’t get past their mid thirties. I don’t know if Devi herself is sick—’
‘Can you contact her and find her?’
‘Many of the girls are HIV and never get treated. AIDs is a big killer. We lost two last year in their twenties and now their mothers are looking after their children. It’s desperate Daphne, the poverty, the—’ Shanta banged her fist on the table with frustration. ‘And the women carry it all. And are there for the men when they want them—’
‘I’m sorry,’ Daphne said.
‘What else is there for her,’ Shanta finished. ‘The men in lorries they go with who truck up and down the country spreading disease.’
‘What you have achieved so far, we can develop and expand.’ Daphne reached for Shanta’s arm and held her gently, and then pulled her into a hug.
*****
Devi clung to Carl’s arm as they came back into the moonlight in front of the temple, and he held on to her, clasping her hand as though she was an old lover he had revered for years.
‘We go—‘ Raj headed for the taxi.
‘Devi’s my friend, aren’t you?’ He pecked her forehead. ‘My little babe.’
Raj cast a glance over his shoulder. ‘You did, didn’t you?’
‘Come on Raj. Chill out, will you? Have a drink with us. Celebrate me finding my new love.’
Devi held on his arm, smiling up at him.
‘You have to use them with these girls.’ Raj had his hands on his hips.
‘What are you on about?’ Carl grabbed the bottle and handed it to Devi who swigged and laughed. ‘You’re a miserable sod tonight. Go and sit in the car if you can’t party.’
‘HIV,’ Raj called to him with a sneer. ‘You know these things, you’ve been around enough.’ Carl stared at him for several seconds. ‘You’ve been here so many times you would think you still owned the country. These village girls actually think if you don’t use them it gets them free of it,’ he laughed. ‘Can you believe it.’
‘Sit in the taxi,’ Carl yelled at him, waving his free arm. ‘Leave us alone.’ Carl ran his hand through strands of her hair. ‘You’re a good girl. I know you wouldn’t, but — we have something, don’t we Devi?’ He looked her in the eyes. ‘You’re not like the women in Mumbai, all loud and —’ He reached in his pocket for a packet of cigarettes, found one, lit it and shared it with Devi. Raj got in the taxi and slammed the door. ‘I must phone my daughter.’ She started to pull away to give him some privacy but he pulled her back. ‘Stay,’ Carl whispered nervously to her. ‘Having a daughter makes you see things differently sometimes, you’ll do anything to protect them—’
The night was quiet. Occasionally in the distance at the end of the track a car would pass. The temple was on the edge of the village away from houses.
‘I have a daughter,’ Devi said.
Carl laughed. ‘You’re not old enough.’
‘Her name is Chaunta,’ Devi went on. ‘It means the one who is brighter than stars. She is two years old now.’
‘You had her when you were seventeen? You’re like me, I was too young when I had Melody — twenty five, but still too young.’ He laughed. ‘I wasn’t ready for it at all.’
‘Nobody is.’
‘You’re right.’
‘We have things the same.’
‘It’s like we’ve always known each other — like old friends — ’
‘In past lives,’ she laughed with him.
‘I can’t believe you have a daughter. You Devi? You’re too young—’
‘You must phone your daughter now.’ Devi nudged him.
‘You’re very good to me, Devi,’ he gave her a squeeze. Pulling out his phone, he called. As soon as he heard her voice he knew something was wrong, it was not the cheerful Melody he met at weekends. Devi was watching him walking in circles. ‘What is it, Melody?’ he breathed anxiously. ‘What? Tell me. Is it him?’ Carl was walking, stopping, listening. ‘You tell him to keep away from you. It is that Jake, isn’t it. You tell him. Does your mother know? Tell me?’ He walked again. ‘It is him. He’s a nasty bastard, Melody, you’ve got to — what does your mother say?’ He stopped walking and listened again, his eyes meeting Devi’s a moment. ‘Get your mother to help you for god’s sake. Melody, what are you doing? No, you don’t love him. This is Jake. He’s getting back at me — we fell out at work. No, Melody, he doesn’t love you. He doesn’t—‘ Carl was shouting. ‘You think it’s love, but — he’s—’ Shocked, he stood still, staring into the night. Devi went to him and held his hand, but he pulled away. ‘No,’ he yelled down the phone. ‘No, no, no — you don’t go through with this. You don’t. You stop it now — Melody — no more tears, you don’t go through with it—’ She had hung up. He clutched the phone, leaving it in his fist, as though by crushing it the pain would go. Devi held her hand out to him again and he took it and she led him to the candles on the steps of the temple.
‘Fifteen, she is. Fifteen. That scumbag is my age.’ Carl stood up again and tramped around. ‘He’s done it to get back at me. Fifteen. I’ll have him when I get back. He’s dead meat.’ He turned to Devi. ‘She’s pregnant. Three months. And she won’t terminate. What’s her mother doing, for god’s sake?’
Devi stood with him, held his arm and guided him back down to the steps and held on to him, her face in the flickering candle light. ‘You will have a grandchild, maybe another girl.’
‘How can she be so stupid. He made her. Groomed her.’
‘If you tell a child not to do something, it means they will go and do it.’
He held on to her. ‘It’s not her fault though. He targeted me — she’s fifteen for god’s sake. Fifteen.’
‘You will help her?’ Devi pressed him.
‘You don’t want your children to make mistakes, your own daughter, the baby girl in your arms messed up by some pillock. Dead meat, Devi.’
‘You must go back to her and be gentle with her.’
‘I’ve got to phone her mum. She’s a head case, but—’ He stroked Devi’s arm. ‘Stay a bit longer.’
‘You must go back home,’ Devi insisted. ‘You have a family. Your family is who you are.’
Carl looked at her again. ‘Raj over there says some of you girls have lots of money.’
She turned her gaze from him, twiddling her red and white beads. ‘My mum says she regretted dedicating me all her life. I am a little child, I don’t know what’s happening to me. One day there’s big festival for me and I’m just a girl, just beginning to bleed, to be a woman. They take my clothes off and put me in leaves from the Neem tree — that’s all my clothes. They all tell I’m special — every girl wants this, my life is full of riches and fun.’ She paused for breath. ‘I am scared — I walk in the village naked in Neem leaves, and all the women cheering and all the men staring at me. And I think why the local men who have land are shouting numbers? My uncle tells me — they want to be the first to get you. And the one with all the money can have you that day. I was eleven.’ She paused, gathering herself. ‘I don’t know what is happening — all these men coming to me — I thought I will die.’
