Independent Goa Observer

THE BENT WOMAN

Do curses come true? Nobody knows for sure except for Mareenbai, who was a victim of Sarah’s powerful curse. BEN ANTAO weaves a prolific tale around Sarah’s evil eye.

JOSE LISTENED intently as the visiting archbishop read a story from the Bible. It was a story he knew well, about a woman whose body was permanently bent forward at the waist, supposedly from the weight of carrying evil spirits. Images of the little village where he grew up flooded his mind and pulled him into the past. He sat up straight and tall in the oak chair with velvet cushions at the front of the church. This was his first assignment as a priest and he thought it only fitting that he appear to be interested in what the archbishop was saying. He wore an acceptable look of respect on his face, and allowed his mind to wander, to remember her…

…Jose scooped up the last pile of pig droppings and set down his pail and stick, on the leaves that carpeted the sandy soil. Elated that his task was finished, he coveted a juicy red cashew that hung on the outer end of a branch near the hut. It was high above his head. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to devise a plan to retrieve the cashew, as only a nine-year-old boy might.

“Hmmm,” he mused, placing the tip of his index finger against his cheekbone. “How can I get that cashew?”

After studying the tree, he ensconced himself in its fork and attempted to shake the limb to dislodge the fruit, but only succeeded in shaking his wiry body until his arms hurt. Then he changed his tactics, hoisted himself up and, reaching the fork a second time, allowed his body to swing upside down. He inched forward towards the cashew, deciding with the cumulative wisdom of his nine years that he would let go of the branch when he reached the halfway mark. Surely, he thought, the motion of the branch when it broke free from his body would cause the cashew to fall into his hands.

“What are you doing, Baba?”

Jose tightened his grip on the branch, turned his head towards the direction of the voice, and looked directly into her eyes. The intensity of her stare seemed to bore holes into his body and unnerved him, causing him to release his grip on the branch and land with a thud on his back.

“Ouch!” He stayed on his back and waited for the old woman to give him permission to move, trying to avoid looking into her eyes and stealing furtive glances when he thought she wasn’t watching him. She was bent forward at her waist; her upper body almost horizontal to the ground and she leaned on a walking stick fashioned from the limb of a guava tree for support. Her left hand clutched at her hip. She was clad in a black capod with its end piece draped around her neck.

Jose cleared his throat, hoping to prompt her to say something, preferably something nice. Her face resembled a furrowed field with two black rocks in the middle. Her dark hair was streaked with shards of gray and pulled tightly into a knot at the nape of her neck. She continued to watch him as he stood up and began to brush the sand off his khaki shorts, moving her gaze downward to his calloused knees and up to his face.

“I…I was trying to reach the cashew,” he said, “but I fell.”

“Where’s your mother?”

“She’s…she’s sleeping.”

“And you’re collecting manure?”

“Yes.” He nodded his head up and down rapidly. “It’s my job. Mother says I do a good job.”

“Good. You’re a good boy to help your mother.” She pulled her skirt above her ankles and inspected her bare feet. They were covered in dust. “My feet are always itching. I know it’s from the pigs; they’re fouling the ground with their merda.”

Jose waited to hear what she’d say next.

“Too many pigs,” she continued shaking her head. “Borem, baba, finish your job.”

Jose smiled with relief.

“Baba?”

His smile vanished. Now what?

“Yes?” he lowered his head to show respect.

“Don’t forget your cashew. It’s behind you.”

Jose turned around and bent over to pick up his treasure. He polished the fruit by placing it in the palm of his hand and rubbing it against his shorts.

“Thank you,” he called after her as she limped to her hut and disappeared through the small opening.

He bit into the shiny cashew and its pungent juice filled his mouth, drenching his taste buds. Then he twisted the gray, kidney-shaped nut loose, popped it into his pocket, and concentrated on eating the remainder of the fruit, before discarding the sappy lower end.

“Mai,” he asked his mother later. “Why is the old woman like that?”

Jose’s mother set an earthen pot over a well formed by three stone blocks. She blew gently on the dying embers and fed some desiccated palm leaves into their midst to kindle the fire. She blew on the embers once more and when they ignited with a burst of flames, she added two small pieces of firewood. Soon after, the pot of water came to a rolling boil and she made tea. Jose waited, impatiently, for his mother to answer. He kicked his feet back and forth under the table.

“What woman?”

“The one who lives in the hut,” he pointed towards the kitchen window, motioning his mother to look outside.

“Mareenbai?”

“Is that her name?”

“Yes. She was like that long before I married your father and came here to live.”

“But you must know why. You know everything.”

She smiled at his notion. “Ahhh, such confidence in your mother!”

“Please tell me the story. PLEEEASE.” Jose picked up his cup of tea and sipped slowly.

“I only know what Rosita told me. She’s the one who knows everything around here.”

The boy squirmed with impatience and plunked his cup down on the table. “Can we go to Rosita’s house then?”

“Not today.”

“Whyyyyy not?” Jose whined.

“I’ll tell you about the old woman tomorrow, son. It’s a very long story, and I have too many tasks to finish today.”

The next morning Jose washed and dressed an hour earlier than usual. He sat at the table and waited for his mother to bring him his breakfast. Today is the day, he thought excitedly. Today I’m going to learn about the old woman. He traced a pattern on the wooden table with his finger.

“So,” his mother teased him, “what would you like to talk about this morning?”

Jose formed his lips into a pout, afraid that his mother would make up another excuse to get out of telling him the story.

“Don’t look so worried, Jose. Didn’t I say I would tell you the story about the old woman today?”

Jose’s pout melted and he smiled at his mother. “Yes.”

“I’ll remember.” He squeezed his hands together and placed them in his lap, anticipating the dark secrets his mother would share with him.

“Some people say Mareenbai is bent because of her age, but…” his mother leaned closer to him and lowered her voice to a whisper, “Rosita told me…”

“What?”

“Rosita told me that someone put a curse on her.”

Jose, like the other children in his village, had a little knowledge about the world of curses and evil spirits; enough to make him wary about asking questions. Maybe, he thought, the spirits were watching him right now; maybe they would be unhappy if he knew too much. But his insatiable curiosity prodded him on. He wanted to know everything. He had to know.

“A curse?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Let me explain how it came to be.”

Jose settled on the bench, his attention fastened solely on his mother’s face, his breakfast forgotten.

“Mareenbai was a rare beauty in her youth, or so Rosita says. So beautiful, in fact, that her older sisters were insanely jealous of her. They joined forces and worked very hard to make her life miserable, forcing her to do their chores and bullying her if she refused.”

“But the curse, Mai. Who put the curse on her?”

“I’m coming to that. Be patient.”

He sighed. Had his mother forgotten that he was only nine? And that he had difficulty sitting still at the best of times?

“Tell me about the curse, Mai.”

His mother continued. “One of Mareenbai’s neighbours was—still is—Crazy Sarah. You remember I told you never to talk to crazy Sarah?”

“She frightens me, Mai. She has wild eyes.”

“She’s always had wild eyes, Jose. I think she’s a vessel for evil spirits, but perhaps Mareenbai didn’t know that. Neither did the unsuspecting fellow who came to call on Sarah when she was much younger. He was from a different village, and I suppose no one warned him about her. All he saw was the lure of her money and her father’s position in the village. After a very short courtship, he asked her to marry him.”

Jose’s interest peaked.

“Did Mareenbai like Sarah’s man?”

“No one knows. We only know that Sarah cautioned him never to take the shortcut past Mareenbai’s hut.”

“Was she afraid he would like Mareenbai better than her?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps the spirits in her knew. You ask questions that I have no answers for, son.”

“Did he take the shortcut? Is that how he met Mareenbai? Did he think she was more beautiful than Sarah?”

“Rosita tells the story like this, Jose. The young man left Sarah’s house shortly after lunch one day. It was a hot day, and instead of following his usual route, which would have led him down a treeless road in the torrid sun, he decided to take a shortcut through a shady grove. And…”

“I know!” Jose stood up, excitedly. “Then he saw Mareenbai. Didn’t he? And he saw how beautiful she was. And he wanted her instead of Sarah.”

“Your imagination outdoes itself, Jose, but none of us heard their conversation. None of us, that is, except Sarah and her spirits.”

“Sarah heard them?”

“As the story goes, Sarah looked out of her kitchen window and saw him walking towards the grove where Mareenbai lives. She followed him.”

“What did she say to him?”

“Once again, Jose, no one knows. All we know is that he broke his engagement to Sarah and moved to the city. And Sarah stomped through the village every day for weeks, blaming Mareenbai and making threats that she was going to put a curse on her. Everyone took great pains to avoid her and her wild eyes.”

“But the curse! You promised you would tell me! You promised!”

Jose’s mother studied him carefully, wondering if she’d said too much already. Should a nine-year-old boy know about such strong evil? She mused to herself.

“I can only tell you what Rosita said, and I have no way of knowing if it’s true. Stories have a way of changing when they’re passed from one person to another, especially stories like this.”

“What did she say? Tell me!”

“Rosita said that Sarah’s father followed her to Mareenbai’s hut one day after she’d had a terrible screaming session. He was afraid she would harm Mareenbai. Once Sarah arrived at the hut, she smashed her glass bangles against her forehead, took a sliver of the glass, and slashed it across Mareenbai’s face before her father could stop her. As he dragged her away, she screamed at Mareenbai and screamed out the curse.”

Jose’s eyes were wide. “What happened to Mareenbai after Sarah put the curse on her?”

“Soon she began to complain of terrible pain in her back. The doctor diagnosed her with deterioration of…”

“What does de…deter…I can’t say it. What does that mean?”

“It means the doctor thought the bones in her lower back were wearing out and because of that, her muscles couldn’t hold her up straight any more. He tried putting her in a brace so she could walk upright, but it was too painful. It was easier for her to walk hunched over, even though every time she showed herself in public it reminded the villagers that she was a victim of Sarah’s powerful curse.”

“Why didn’t someone take the curse off Mareenbai?”

“How can a curse be removed if no one knows what the curse was?”

“God knows.”

“Yes, God knows.”

“Why didn’t He take the curse off Mareenbai?”

“Perhaps you should ask Him.”

Jose pondered her answer.

“I’m going to ask Him,” he determined, his voice so low that his words were barely audible. “Did it take a long time for Mareenbai to be hunched over like she is now?”

“Yes. She suffered pain for many years. The bhatkars took pity on her and decreased her workload until all she did was cook for them. And a kind neighbour saw to it that she was supplied with fresh water every day at her hut. She’s lived this way for almost 20 years, with never a harsh word about Sarah. It seems as if she forgave her the moment the curse was uttered.”

“I hate Sarah.”

“Hate is a strong word, Jose.”

“I don’t care. I hate Sarah for being so cruel. How could God let her be so cruel?”

“God allows us to choose how we live, son. And if we choose to be cruel, we’ll pay the price in the end.”

“I think Sarah should pay right now.”

“She has been paying.”

“How?”

“She just exists, Jose. Her mind is gone, completely taken over by the spirits. No one wants to be near her; she has no friends. She’s alone and wretched, tormented day and night by the same spirits that helped her to curse Mareenbai.”

“But she’s not bent over.”

“That’s true, but perhaps her fate is worse than Mareenbai’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mareenbai still has a sound mind. Sarah does not.”

“It’s still not fair,” Jose sulked.

(To be continued)

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