11th October 1855.
I’m so excited. Navratri’s starting tomorrow. My friends and I have made so many plans. Love October! So many festivals. So much to do. But this mother of mine…
Last night she was embroidering a chikan ka kurta till four o’clock in the morning. I got up to drink some water and there she was – trying to thread a needle by candlelight. I slapped my forehead a dozen times and said – “You want your eyes to explode or what? Has the Nawab stopped paying you?”
But Ma being Ma, quickly changed the subject. She’d rather starve and let me and Nayansukh starve as well, than utter a single word against the Nawab. She said – “I have to marry you off, don’t I? We need some extra money for that. I had planned to sell our land in the village for your wedding. But the English have confiscated it.’
These Angrez, I tell you. Don’t they have enough land in their own country, that they have to come all the way to Hindustan to steal ours?
Poor mother. My head tells me I should tell her I don’t need all these expensive clothes and jewellery she’s collecting for my trousseau. But my heart knows how much I want them. What do I do? 
(Chutki is a minor character in my novel, The World Beyond)
© Sangeeta Bhargava 2011
