Amudha Surabhi

by Tehnuka

Mallika beat her skirt against the washing rock twice more and wrung it out a final time, brown-tinged water dripping along her fingers. Whatever she did, the fabric retained the grey hue it had acquired when the new manufactory started spitting out steam and coal-smoke last year. And she’d have to darn that hole in the hem, too. The other girls might get new clothes for Deepavali but it would be a surprise if Amma remembered the festival at all.

She washed her mother’s sari and laid it out to dry, then sat kicking her feet against the bank, watching the smooth flow of the river below. This time of year, it should have been fast, eddying, chai-coloured with monsoon runoff. Instead, she’d had to clamber down just to reach the water. Mallika knew there would soon be bigger difficulties than stained clothes. (Continue Reading…)