“Inspector Thomas Mathew seemed to know whom he could pick on and whom he couldn’t. Policemen have that instinct.”
Some days he walked along the banks of the river that smelled of shit and pesticides bought with World Bank loans.
He oiled himself with warm, peppered coconut oil, kneading his old, loose flesh that stretched willingly off his bones like chewing gum.
the Loss of Sophie Mol grew robust and alive. It was always there. Like a fruit in season. Every season. As permanent as a government job.
savoring their teacherly disapproval, touching it with their tongues, sucking it like a sweet
It was as though the window through which their father disappeared had been kept open for anyone to walk in and be welcomed.
not of the wedding itself so much as the fact that she had permitted herself to be so painstakingly decorated before being led to the gallows. It seemed so absurd. So futile. Like polishing firewood.
Ammu said that human beings were creatures of habit, and it was amazing the kind of things they could get used to.
The nodder nodded as Rahel’s ancestral lineage fell into place for him.
When she looked at him now, she couldn’t help thinking that the man he had become bore so little resemblance to the boy he had been. His smile was the only piece of baggage he had carried with him from boyhood into manhood.