THE DINKS 

He returned at noon smelling of the earth and hard work.

He returned with his big brown hands holding a sack of wheat that would last them three full moons.

He returned with his small eyes hooded under his big turban.

He returned asking for water to wash up, a hot meal and quick sex.

She poured him the water, fed fresh rotis and got naked.

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Smoke of ganja filled bidis still swirled gently in the air. She had rolled him two, like she did every day, to help him sleep soundly. The clanging of utensils, as she rubbed them with ashes & coir failed to rouse him from his inebriated slumber. Satisfied with clean gleaming vessels she went down to the stream.

She needed to wash her dark wavy hair to rid them of the offensive smelling mustard oil.

She needed to scrub her feet hard with a piece of brick in order to soften them at heels.

She needed to dig the dirt out of her nails and tint them with henna.

She needed to rinse her mouth a several times to remove traces of betel nut and tobacco stuck between her teeth.

She needed to prepare herself for the masters waiting in the fort across the stream. Their benevolence was vital for survival or the two of them would still be starving.

The others wove ropes, mopped the chambers at the fort, milked the goats and massaged the royal ladies. Everyone in this small hamlet did their bit to earn more. There were loans to be paid, dowries to be given and pieces of land to be freed.

She used her youth and subservience while her man used his lean strength and able hands at the field. And to them, it was a fair deal. Both worked relentlessly towards a small field to call their own.

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It was dark when she returned. The moon hung low to help her wade through the stream, dark and mysterious at that hour. She stepped out gingerly, her hands at her breast, not taking a chance with the ten silver coins stowed away in her blouse.

A lamp twinkled joyously from her hut, winking at her like a co-conspirator. She lifted her voluminous wet skirt up to her knees so she could walk faster. He should be awake now. She smiled at the thought of familiar comforting arms that he would offer. He would feed her reheated rotis with onion and chillies with his own hands. They would laugh, cry and love each other till the moon sank behind the hillock. They would count all the coins over and over. And in the haze of ganja filled bidis, they would walk half a mile to sit near the four mounds on the hillock.

Four tiny graves of four tiny children.

Four children forced out of her body, before they completed their time in her womb.

Four denials to keep her body young and unscarred.

Four doubts.

Four hopes.

Four sacrifices till they earned enough.

Just fifty more silvers & three full moons to go.