It was a small room, with a window that overlooked the dwindling, somewhat neglected rubber plantation that Reverend E. John Ipe had bought from a neighbor. One door connected it to the main house and another (the separate entrance that Mammachi had installed for Chacko to pursue his “Men’s Needs” discreetly) led directly out onto the side mittam. Sophie Mol lay asleep on a little camp cot that had been made up for her next to the big bed. The drone of the slow ceiling fan filled her head. Bluegrayblue eyes snapped open. A Wake A Live A Lert Sleep was summarily dismissed. For the first time since Joe had died, he was not the first thing that she thought about when she woke up. She looked around the room. Not moving, just swiveling her eyeballs. A captured spy in enemy territory, plotting her spectacular escape. A vase of awkwardly arranged hibiscus, already drooping, stood on Chacko’s table. The walls were lined with books. A glass-paned cupboard was crammed with damaged balsa airplanes.
What do You think about The God Of Small Things (1997)?
