CHAPTER 2

Catherine worked in a garment factory. She was twenty-nine and stayed alone.

She was tall, not exceedingly beautiful, but fair enough to demand a second look.

Her eyes always remained half-closed, except when she was emotional, which was so rare.

Her abode had only two rooms. One her dining-cum-drawing -cum-dreaming room.

And the other her sleeping room. And a kitchen outside.

Ten years before, she had a mother and twenty years before had both father and mother. Her mother worked in the same garment factory where she worked now.

Her father never grew upward or forward or backward or side ways after she was born, but her mother grew vertically till the age of thirty and then started growing horizontally. The protruding ears and bulging eyes and sparse, coppery hair gave her face an inhuman look. Her lips always moved in such a way, as if she still cherished the good old days, when she had sucked her mother\'s breast. Indeed, there was none in the area, who occupied as much space to exist as that woman, except the factory owner. But then, he was the â€œFlattery orner\' as was called by the sweeper maid.

Both her parents were employed. The mother was employed in the garment factory. As far as Cathy knew, it was the only place she worked, but she had always enough money, much more than what would have been her wage, to provide for the whole family and also to provide working capital for her father\'s job.

Because her father was a famous Arrack Taster.

Like Tea -taster.

With a few differences only.

The tea-taster earned money, but the arrack-taster spent money.

The tea-taster tasted in small measures, but arrack-taster, tasted in large measures.

Everyday, when he entered the tavern the first time in the morning, he looked like a large, boiled, dry shrimp. Then he would fill the glass with the fluid, with a little water added to it. Thereafter, he would take the first sip, move it around in his mouth and savour the aromatic, penetrating fluid, holding his mouth like an old inkpot. Then he would invariably approve it by lifting his right hand and making a circle with his thumb and index finger.

Having completed the beginner\'s course systematically, he would start the real business.

Emptying glasses quickly, eating something in between, smoking occasionally, going out and eating again.

A real rampage.

And by the time he returned home after finishing the day\'s business and busy-ness, he would look like a huge centipede having come out of some stinking gutter.

And he would be half- asleep.

Except on days, when the funds would end before normal time. Then he would come in full consciousness and start a chiding tirade upon the lady. Calling her various names and blaming her for earning money. For infidelity. Committing adultery. And the lady would go on cursing him, in between raising her voice and telling him to shut up. Her alternate performances were just like his eating something between drinks.

But one day she lost all control and flared up.

He was blaming her as usual for adultery.

The last program in his day\'s agenda.

Suddenly she got up, reached near him and pointing her index finger at his nose, shouted:

â€œYes. Yes. You are right. I am all that you are saying. And more. And see.â€ Panting heavily, she turned her finger towards Catherine. â€œDo not call her your daughter. She is not your daughter. You do not have the stuff to produce a daughter. Youâ€¦.. Youâ€ She turned to him again. â€œYou son of a filthy bitch. The dirty, gutless drunkard eunuch. Enough it is. No more faking. I am fed up. Now get out of my house. Soon. This moment.â€

The shower of obscenities from his mouth stopped. He got up. He looked aged, haggard. His face now had the look of a man feigning deep

sorrow.

But it was not feigning. It was real. Sorrow dissolved in surprise.

Nobody knew whether he did it because he was denied the fatherhood of the girl or because of her assertion that it was her house and he was to go out.

Anyway, he did it that night itself. Upon a tree in front of the house.

He hanged himself.

The mother and daughter never discussed it. And Catherine alias Cathy was not certain as to whether she is really illegitimate or whether her mother cooked up such a story in her frenzy. However, she somehow felt that the statement was true.

And Cathy learned to hate her mother. Even after her death.

And she forgot to marry.

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ADAM\\\'S SONS (English Novel â€“ Chapter â€“ 2) BY KRISHNA