CHAPTER 1 V

SPEECH AND SILENCE / BOON OR CURSE

In social situations, one responds either in the active form

(speech) or in the passive form (silence). This depends on the

respondent's mental ability, his interest in the particular

subject, his attitude towards the person spoken to or about. Once

the respondent chooses speech, he is committing himself not only

to the person spoken to, but also to the existence of the thing

spoken about and to a temporal reality in which speech occurs.

George Steiner in Aspects of Language and Translation opines that

a respondent may eschew clarity and accomplish circularity in

speech, "by offering alternatives to the thing spoken about, by

deliberate concealment, misstatement, polysemy, falsehood or

misinformation" (130).

Ludwig Wittgenstein in Philosophical Investigations says that

"speech is a social game involving mutual intelligibility" (11).

It is through the 'language games' that a relationship is

continually amended and the activities like giving orders,

describing objects, events, fabricating stories, asking, saying,

narrating are accomplished. Therefore, in order to satisfy our

daily needs, speech is essential. When two people who are

acquainted with each other approach, a duel arises as to

determine who will speak first, and since speech is

characteristically assertive, the more proficient participant

commands authority.

Silence has a meaning of its own. Therefore the silent

response of the character has specific meaning and significance.

Silence forms an integral part because that which is concealed is

more profound than that which is revealed, unanalyzed because it

is unanalyzable. Silence is a moment in language.

In the Indian context, a woman is usually appreciated as an

object from whom obedience, submissiveness, passivity, complicity

and silence are demanded. As a result of her passivity,

submissiveness and self-denial, she is led to depressive

moodiness and morbid sensitivity. These negative influences that

shape female identity from a very young age have destructive

effects on women. Tradition as well as society expects a girl to

fulfill the needs of others rather than self-fulfilment; a woman

has no identity of her own, only marriage, motherhood and family

can make her a complete woman; and she is supposed to deny her

feelings and emotions and to behave in a self-negating and

responsible manner. Howsoever she is provoked, physically or

mentally, she is expected to maintain silence, for according to

the Indian tradition, silence is the hallmark of respectability.

But, with the transition from tradition to modernity, women have

begun to voice their feelings against the injustice done towards

them.

For instance Rukmani (Nectar in a Sieve), who is unaware of her

father's position dreams of having a grand wedding, but her

brother's revelation that her father (who is the headman) is no

longer a man of consequence, shatters her dreams. But, the

traditional concept of woman is so ingrained in her that she

accepts without a murmur the hut uf he, husband, which is very

unlike her comfortable home before marriage. Hut when she hears

that it was Nathan who had built their house, she feels proud of

him. Speech can most often encoursge a person in life. It was

Nathan's encouragement that made her help in his manual labour.

The Nathan-Rukmani bond can be compared to Gerald-Elizabeth in

Pearl S. Buck's Letter from Pekinn, wherein Gerald always says to

his wife: "you have the genius of a home maker" ( 8 ) .

Markandaya brilliantly reveals how centuries of conditioning

of the Hindu mind to suffer without protest becomes operative in

times of misfortunes. When Ira (Nectar in a Sieve) is sent back

to her parent's house for her barrenness, she accepts it

passively. Later, when Ira hears that her husband has taken

another woman she remains mute. It is typical of the Indian woman

to leave her disappointment unspoken. The death of Raja at the

hands of the factory guard, Kuti's death by starvation, Nathan's

faithlessness, and finally the eviction of her family from the

land they tilled: all are accepted mutely. Passive acceptance is

the Indian way of life and this acceptance and spirit of calm

resignation is seen rather in the illiterate and superstitious

rural India than in the more sophisticated cities. The novel

achieves a vindication of the traditional spirit of acceptance

which strengthens one in times of crises. However this enables

them to bear much more than would have been possible otherwise.

Rukmani maintains silence of her visits to Kenny and dues not

know how to define her relation with him. When their first boy is

born, both Rukmani and Nathan are happy beyond bounds. Nathan,

noticing the disappointment in her face remarks:

"What now 7 " he s a i d . Are you n o t happy ? . . .

it i s j u s t t h a t I would have l i k e d t o s e e Ker~ny under

our r o o f . H e d i d s o much f o r my mother . " 'And f o r u s , ' I

t h o u g h t , b u t could n o t s ay i t ; . . . 'what harm' , I

t hough t , ' i f he does n o t know; I have n o t l i e d t o him,

t h e r e has j u s t been t h i s s i l e n c e ' ( 2 1 - 2 2 ) .

She was unsure of how Nathan would i n t e r p r e t i t . S i l e n c e seemed

t h e b e s t way, because a t o r r e n t i a l s t ream of words would n o t

h e l p . But , however, t h i s s i l e n c e had brought about m i s i n t e r p r e t e d

thoughts i n t h e mind of h e r c h i l d r e n :

With sudden c l a r i t y I r e c a l l e d my d a u g h t e r ' s looks

t h a t f a r - o f f day when I had gone t o Kenny; my s o n ' s

words, such men have power, e s p e c i a l l y over women;

remembered my own f o o l i s h s i l e n c e s (83).

When Kunthi comes begging f o r r i c e , Rukmani who has prepared j u s t

enough f o r h e r fami ly- - the r e s t she has hiddden f o r t h e coming

days of mi s fo r tune - - f inds it d i f f i c u l t t o s h a r e food, a t t h i s

time of c r i s i s . She t h e r e f o r e a s k s Kunthi; "Can you n o t go t o

your sons ? " Kunthi i n r e p l y s a y s , "My sons . . . a r e not mine

a lone" ( 8 2 ) . Perhaps Kunthi means t o s ay t h a t Nathan t o o has a

p a r t i n b r i n g i n g h e r c h i l d r e n t o t h i s world b u t when she s e e s t h e

bewildered Rukmani, s h e adds , "They have wives . 1 would never

approach them now" ( 8 2 1 . L a t e r , when Rukmani d i s c o v e r s t h e g r a i n s

t h a t she has s o c a r e f u l l y sa feguarded f o r h e r fami ly being robbed

and t h a t t o o by h e r own husband i n o r d e r t o p reven t Kunthi from

r e v e a l i n g h i s secret of hav ing f a t h e r e d h e r two sons , Rukmani

f e e l s weak, o u t of pa in and anger t o d i s c o v e r " a f t e r s o many

years, in such a cruel way" (86). She says what she feels but

gives the readers no direct experience of her feelings. This is

an obvious flaw, for, not even Rukmani, devoted though she is to

her husband, is likely to let go her erring husband so easily.

Speech, even after a long silence comes as a blessing. Rukmani

gets rid of her sense of guilt in having kept her visits to Kenny

a secret from Nathan. She can face him now squarely if the need

comes. The skeleton in the cupboard has ceased to be menacing.

That the discovery of Nathan's betrayal is a relief to Rukmani

seems to be one of the little ironies of life. The inner turmoil

of suppressing silence can be measured in her words: "it seemed

to me that a new peace came to us then, freed at last from the

necessity for lies and concealment and deceit, with the fear of

betrayal lifted from us . . . ( 5 7 ) .

With the coming of industrialisation, the villagers are

evicted from the land, which has been their soul, which has been

their only means of livelihood, and all they are capable of is to

remain passive. Nathan advises Rukmani to "bend like the grass"

( 2 8 1 so that she would not break. This image can be said to be

the key idea of the novel. It suggests acceptance and resilience

as solutions to their problems. Kenny, who represents the modern

thought tries to instill knowledge into the villagers: that they

must cry out if they want help: "It is no use whatsoever to

suffer in silence. Who will succour the drowning man if he does

not clamour for his life ? " (113). Kenny feels that it is the

impregnable tradition that had conditioned the mind into a

s p i r i t l e s s accep tance of i n j u s t i c e . Speech a s w e l l a s s i l e n c e can

have i t s d e s i r e d e f f e c t on ly when a v a i l e d a t t h e a p p r o p r i a t e

t i m e , i n t h e a p p r o p r i a t e manner. While Rukmani r e p r e s e n t s t h e

t r u t h about t h e Hindu a t t i t u d e t o l i f e , Mira (Some Inner Fury)

s t a n d s a s a s h a r p c o n t r a s t w i t h Rukmani i n r e v e a l i n g t h e i r

a t t i t u d e s t o l i f e . Kamala Markandaya i n h e r nove l s employs t h e

pause which i s an i n e v i t a b l e a s p e c t of communication, and exposes

what occu r s i n t h e mind of t h e c h a r a c t e r . I n t h e pause, t h e

c h a r a c t e r s h i d e , judge, r e d e f i n e o r h e s i t a t e momentarily t o

r e c e i v e needed con f i rma t ion . Mira (Some Iuer f u r y ) , who has

f a l l e n i n l o v e wi th K i t ' s f r i e n d Richard , t r i e s t o concea l h e r

f e e l i n g s b u t h e r adopted b r o t h e r who has been watching h e r

c l o s e l y a s k s :

"What posses se s you!" he s a i d h a r s h l y , I have been

watching you--I cou ld s c a r c e l y b e l i e v e what I saw" . . .

" I do n o t know what came over me," I s a i d , I must

b e . . . . "You miss your R icha rd" , he s a i d , "why deny it ?

- - w e a r e a l o n e . " ( 4 2 )

Mira ' s f a c e b e t r a y s h e r t hough t s and s h e has t o come o u t wi th

t h e t r u t h . While speech acts as t h e m i r r o r of t h e s o u l and

p rov ides w i t h t h e h i s t o r y of l i f e , it can a l s o h e l p t o concea l

o n e ' s t h o u g h t s . When p r e p a r a t i o n s a r e be ing made f o r K i t ' s

weddding, Mi ra ' s mother a sks h e r t o s t a y back from c o l l e g e f o r a

few days :

"Bes ides , it would be r a t h e r n i c e t o have you a t home."

" I f I s t a y e d a t home", I s a i d , How should I pass t h e

examinations?".

There was a pause. Would that matter so much? my

mother asked. To me, it would, I answered her; only we

didn't actually say these things but neatly exchanged

our thoughts.

"You seem to have changed", my mother said at last,

slowly. "Since Kitsamy came."

And though she said kit, she meant Richard. ( 5 2 )

Mira's inner fury is communicated more effectively by what is

left unsaid. Consider the occasion when Mira's mother dissuades

her from accompanying Kit and Richard to the swimming pool:

I flew, excited, to tell my mother: and she, at the end

of my breathless exposition, said I was not to go.

"Why not," I asked, and I cried to myself, whv eves

I&&, while the wings of my anticipation began slowly

to fold.

"Modesty graces a woman," she replied. It is not right

for a young woman to go among young men."

To go among them touched by the alchemy of water,

transformed by it; hair become a skull cap, garments

a gleaming sheath.

"He's my brother," I said

"And the other ? "

"I said I would go," I cried, "what shall I say now

"You will have to say you cannot swim."

"But I can!" I said furiously, "I swim very well!"

Anger blew open the gates of defiance; but while they

swung wildly, before I could advance, my mother said-and

her voice was low and loving- "Dearest, go if you

must," and the wind died and in the lull I heard the

gates shut.

"What shall I say," I repeated, in the calm.

"It is not so difficult," she said, half smiling at

me. "Only that you cannot swim today. They will

understand." (34)

The mother's decision and authority is firm, Mira's resentment

and antagonism against the mother is almost tangibly

communicated. Mira's mother's silence is more powerful than her

words.There are two silences, one is when no word is spoken; the

other when a torrent of language is employed. Harold Pinter is of

the opinion that speech may be viewed as a "strategem to cover

nakedness."

Communication is not merely exchange of words: the tone, the

accompanying gestures, the pauses in between, the significant

look--all such things help convey the real meaning intended.

Sometimes a person may say something, but mean exactly the

opposite. Sometimes a person may convey the idea suggestively

through a different name or word.

At times intense love tends to hurt people. When Premala whom

Govind loves truly is to be Kit's wife, all that he can do is

hurt her through arrogant words. When Premala suggests that the

little children (street urchins) should be fed, all the senior

members rally against her. Even Dodamrna expresses her opinion

eloquently :

"They would eat you out of house and home ! "

exclaimed Dodamma, "Have you lost your senses, girl? As

well feed a tribe of monkeys."

"Or a swarm of locusts" said senior uncle. . . (54)

Premala who can bear the scathing remarks no longer remonstrates

that they are children and not monkeys or locusts. Kit, who has

been witnessing all, tells her not to be emotional. Govind asks

Premala whether her real motive in feeding the poor children is

to exact gratitude from them or to get cheap popularity. The

others are shocked with disbelief for Govind has been the

gentlest with her. Later, he tells Mira, "I must love her, to

want to hurt her so much" (56). Govind would have liked to have

her as his wife, for he once remarked, "No man could have a

better" (48). It is Govind's silent desire for her that makes him

use arrogant words.

nce of Deuirc takes its title from a motto of H.W.

Longfellow: Three silences there are: the first of speech, the

second of desire, the third of thought. Dandekar and Sarojini,

the central characters, are ensnared in the silence of desire,

each one maintaining silence, for fear of marital disharmony.

Carlyle in Sartor Resactus observes that, "silence is the

element in which great things fashion themselves together (133).

Dandekar broods in silence over the inadequacy of religious

beliefs and the boon of new science. Sarojini worships the tulasi

plant, which to Dandekar is a mere plant. The worship of a photo

springs doubts in his mind. Instead of demanding an explanation

from Sarojini, he keeps silent about it, which destroys his peace

of mind. Markandaya portrays how silence has become a crucial

factor in wrecking their domestic serenity and marital bliss.

What appears good to one can seem harmful to the other. Silence

is capable of creating unceasing conflicts; once it is talked

over, the mental strain is released. It is Dandekar's unhealthy

silence that leads to his tension and depression.

Sarojini is alive to Dandekar's needs, so, when he returns

from the office every evening, she takes care to brief him about

her day's happenings, thereby giving him the chance to narrate

the same. They have their own entities and do not allow one to

encroach into the other. She is the rock foundation of his

peaceful home. Yet, he is insensitive to his wife's needs,though

not inconsiderate. Romance and sentiments do not enter this

relationship. No tender emotionv are expressed, all are engulfed

in the silence that takes the conjugal love of the woman for

granted.

One evening, when Dandekar sees Sarojini returning home

wearing a Mysore silk sari worn by her for visits to temples, he

is locked in silence: even when he stumbles on an unfamiliar

photograph, worshipped by his wife, he maintains silence which

costs him his peaceful home atmosphere. It is his inability to

voice his thoughts and feelings that results in "violent trust

and extreme mistrust" (33). Dandekar who cannot even bear to

think of his wife's infidelity, feels greatly relieved when she

clears his doubts about the photograph:

A vast, overpowering sense of relief came over him.

The leaden weight that had been ragging him down

bodily, spiritually, lifted. He felt light-headed. He

loved his wife: he was grateful to her, he was a fool

and worse to have doubted her. ( 3 4 )

Sex is an extremely sensitive and pesonal subject. Attitudes

towards it vary, moods don't always match, egos are generally at

stake. Most couples express sexual desire using hints, code words

and symbolic acts. But the husband and wife who use such signals

should be aware of how easily they can be misread, misinterpreted

or simply missed. In Dandekar's sudden upsurge of love, he wants

to possess Sarojini and lays his head in her lap to be cumforted.

But Sarojini, though she understands his longing, merely states,

"Not to night" (35), which rouses suspicion in his already

suspicious mind. Dandekar, on the other hand, instead of speaking

out and clearing his doubt turns over the matter in his mind. He

cannot understand why Sarojini has rejected his advances and he

could think of no reason of her rejection.

Dandekar's silence only generates cold irritation, Sarojini

keeps rather mum when asked of her absence from home. He makes a

desperate attempt to picture her as a soiled woman, but in vain.

Even when Dandekar suspects her.of illegitimate affair, she does

not wish to clear herself of the clouds cast by her music teacher

lover. Markandaya here explains the disadvantages of the practice

of unwise and unhealthy silence. Sarojini merely states facts

rather than explain: "The man whom I worship as a god," she said,

looking at him directly, "you are very nearly right in that one

thing. Just that one thing" (52). Dandekar wants to take leave

from the office so as to spy on his wife and brings in a lame

excuse. "My aunt has died," he says "I must attend to the funeral

rites . . . " when did she die?" (45), Dandekar is speechless. Ghose's doubts crystallise with Dandekar's silence. The nature of

the silence metamorphoses from contemplation to doubt. Dandekar

is portrayed as a victim of indecision, totally failing to

concretize his vague thoughts based on reason and science,

heavily weighed down by an undefinable silence. His illness may

be the inevitable consequence of strained silence. Desperately,

even when he seeks Chari's help to send off the Swamy, ha dues

not venture to break this unseemly web of silence. Finally,

Sarojini undergoes an operation which proves succesful, the Swamy

is sent away, and the lost Joy of the household is restored, but

all this is once again taken through evocative silence rather

than eloquent speech.

Both Sarojini and Dandekar yearn for domestic peace and

marital bliss, though they have opted for different routes.

Sarojini hides her goings to the Swamy to maintain peace in the

family, Dandekar conceals his feelings to double check her. Even

Chari maintains silence over the issue whether the Swamy is a

sage or a fake. V.B. Gulati in Structure in the Novels of b

Kcmala remonstrates that Sarojini's futile attempts to

guard the secrets of her visits to the Swamy and Dandekar's

nerving himself to break the barrier of silence after his

suspicions about his wife's fidelity are aroused, substantiate

the title of the novel (255). Madhusudan Prasad expresses his

view in W e c t i v e s on [<mala M a r k a w that the silence of

desire imposed upon Sarojini and Dandekar may be "expressive of

her ingrained preoccupation with cross-cultural values--western

values on the one hand and Indian cultural heritage on the other"

(XVI).

Silence is infinite. It is a non -verbal mode of

communication, neither bound to nor fragmented by time. Silence

is a perfect medium for the multiplicity of human responses

antithetic to place, time and clarity. Historically writers have

rejected speech and employed silence to release tension and to

emphasize the significance of particular words. Silence can be

perceived in many ways. Sarojini keeps quiet about her condition

lest she should be forced to go to the hospital. Shantha

Krishnaswamy in Glimpses of Women In India says that "the Swamy

communicates more by his silence than by words" (195). As Margret

P. Joseph in Kamala Markandava says of the Swamy:

His is the silence--not of desire, fear or anger,

but of a powerful personality, capable of inspiring

thought in others without having recourse to speech. (37)

Towards the end of the novel, Sarojini is taken to the hospital.

Dandekar tells her out of jealousy for the Swamy :

'You will be cured. Even without him, even though

I know you haven't much faith in hospitals. I know

you will'.

'I know' she answered. 'He said I would be, and not

to hold back when the time came. I'm not afraid now

of knives or doctors, or what they do. All will be

well. He said so". (154)

This talk, her confidence in the Swamy is once again taken in

silence for it dawns on him that the Swamy could do what he

couldn't, so he "is to be humbled" (154). Dandekar, instead of

rebelling, is glad to have his wife back, so that the family

serenity remains undisturbed.

If the medium of language is inadequate, one makes use of

gestures. When Caroline (possession) the rich American comes to

India, she happens to come across Valmiki, a simpleton in whom

she sees a great artist, so she offers to take him abroad. But

before that, she has to seek his parents' permission and his own.

Valmiki expresses his approval and takes her hand "and gently,

briefly laid his cheek against it the way a dog will sometimes

thrust its muzzle into your palm (12). Before taking leave

Valmiki has only one person to ask permission from and that is

the Swamy, towards whom he has a filial affection. In spite of

the language problem, Valmiki speaks out his desires; of his

seeking blessings from the Swamy before taking leave. Caroline

tells Anasuya to remind him that she is his guardian now and he

is to do as she says. Hearing this, Valmiki scornfully retorts

that what she has paid for the family is only a cr~mpensation "for

the loss of a labourer" (22). Finally Caroline has to give in to

his obstinacy and he gives a winning smile.

Once he sets off with Caroline, he experiences exploitation.

When a person is troubled, he uses the medium with which he is

proficient, so as to express his feelings frankly. He speaks

bitterly in Tamil so that the rush of thought should not be

dammed by a dearth of words :

She does not care for me. She cares only

for what I can do, and if I do it well it is like

one more diamond she can put on the necklace

round her throat for her friends to admire . . . (55)

Finding Valmiki hopeless, Caroline gets the Tamilian cook to

counterfeit a letter as is written by the swamy that "his dearest

wish was to hear he was working hard at his painting, and that he

was always near, in spirit, to him" (61). This forged letter has

a magnetic effect on Val. Soon he begins painting and holding

exhibitions. Anasuya who suspects some foul game asks Caroline:.

You can't expect Valmiki to guarantee output.

What'll you hang on all these walls you're chartering

if there's another bad patch like the one he's been

through? Nag him?" (69)

Caroline confidently answers that there will not be any more

troubles from Valmiki and if there be, she is capable of solving

them. Anasuya confirms her suspicions, and later the cook is sent

off by paying a handsome salary, when she gets information of the

Swamy's arrival. Purely British Caroline has the art of silencing

and having the people under her thumb. When Caroline realizes the

intimacy between Val and Ellie, the refugee, she packs her off

too. When Anasuya asks her of Ellie, Caroline replies rather

cooll~ that "she's gone" (156). Hearing this Anasuya was about to

ask "To which state did the stateless go? (157) but "the look on

Val's face,, the thankful look of people who find that matters

have been taken out of their hands, giving them rest from action

and decision" (157) prevents her from passing any remark.

Caroline cannot tolerate Val getting close to Annabel, who is

almost his age and planning to marry. So, the only way to win

back Val is to disclose his former relationship with Ellie, in a

rather smooth way. To make matters worse, Annabel and Val are

financially tight and so Caroline says decisively that Val must

sell.

"I've sold as much as I want to," said

Valmiki distinctly.

"There's nothing left," said Annabel.

"But Val, that's hoarding," said Caroline.

"Hoarding? Hoarding what?"

. . . Those paintings, MY dear he hasn't been holding . . . out on you? I can see he has . . .

"NOW what was her name," said Caroline. "Lise-

Elsie-no, Ellie,that was it. Quite an obsession of yours

wasn't she Val darling? long time Right up to the time

she went away. (205)

Caroline cruelly reveals that Ellie has committed suicide with

the child in her womb. Annabel is sorry to hear of Ellie's plight

and their relationship breaks. It has "been worked with a cool

mathematical skill" ( 2 0 7 ) . maintaining silence when she should

and speaking out when opportunity determines.

A Handful of Rice is a third person narrative in which the

omniscient narrator closely follows the t1.1ought process of the

protagonist Ravi, the criminal turned respectable. He falls in

love with Nalini the daughter of his employer and one hot summer

afternoon Ravi goes out and buys orange krush and kola for Nalini

and her mother. Jayamma, who is middle-aged (and Apu, past his

prime) says:

'I don't know why it is,' she sighed, but nowadays we

never seem to buy these things. It must be because we

are getting old.' She said 'we' but gestured towards

industrious Apu . . . (41)

Jayamma employs gestures so that Apu will not notice, at the same

time Ravi is able to comprehend. When one communicates with

someone, one responds not only to the words one hears, one also

hears between the lines. One is always listening with the third

ear and trying to grasp the vther person's mind. Ravi understands

Jayamma's inner sexual urge and rapes her. Though Ravi asks her

pardvn after his act, she does not consider it as a great fault

and she does not care so long as it remains a secret.

In any intimate relationship egos sometimes collide and

personal styles grate. But if a comfortable working pattern is

established, the relationship will have room for fighting words

as well as loving whispers. Husband and wife should speak out and

act without restraint. Markandaya in m e Coff~s Dams portrays her

characters, Helen and Clinton, who live their separate lives

failing to speak out as well as understand the partner. Helen

favours the tribals and sees them as human beings. Clinton on the

other hand calls them 'junglee men' wherein starts their

difference. It is from Mackendrick that Clinton gets to know that

his wife understands the tribal language.

During the construction of the dam, Bashiam, the tribal,

volunteers to settle the boulder back on the dam, but

unfortunately, the jib of the crane collapses leaving him

maimed. Helen accuses Clinton of being the cause of the accident:

He was not told, and could not know, since it was a

concealed defect.

He answered: 'He could have withdrawn had he wished,

but was prepared to take any risk. As his own action

showed . . . . '

'I did not wish to destroy, he said.'

If you are sure,' she replied.

And he could not answer that. (195)

In thes few lines, Kamala Markandaya packs in the clue to all the

interior monologue that had been going on within Clinton, at the

time of accident. It is an interior monologue that is never

expressed in words, but it stands out clearly the moment one

reads these lines: "'I did not wish to destroy,' he said. 'If you

are sure,' she replied. And he could not answer that," that

Clinton is both a bourgeois builder and a jealous husband. He has

withheld the information that the machinery is faulty and also

his jealousy has prompted him to make the lover risk his life.

True lovers know each other's thoughts. When a man or woman

is really in love, he/she can sense exactly how to please and

satisfy the other. It makes sense for marriage partners to teach

one another how best to get along with each other. Say what you

mean and mean what you say. Helen and Clinton remain apart, not

by will alone, but by an irresistible process of drift, one

particular occasion makes the loss of even the last possibility

of communication:

'A high price,' he said, . . . 'will have to be paid. '

'A high price has been paid' she answered.

I do not know her, said Clinton, . . . I do not know this woman, who is my wife. ( 1 7 6 )

The relation between Helen and Clinton remains strained due to

their lack of communication.

At times body language serves the purpose of speech. Amma,

( D m V i r n m the mother of the two virgins enjoys the looks and

touch of the Sikh hawker who brings in toilet articles, for the

household to choose. Saroja, the younger virgin notices that

the suitcase is not between them as is arranged earlier. She has

moved round and if the hawker's hand strayed ever so lightly it

would touch her. Both Saroja and Aunt Alamelu, Appa's sister, an

old widow, disapprove of the promiscuous friendship with the Sikh

hawker.

In speech, one not only hears what is spoken, but is able

to grasp what remains unsaid. At times, what remains unspoken

can be misinterpreted. In such cases, it is better to clear the

doubt then and there itself. Lalitha, the pretty looking elder

virgin, upon her teacher's influence is offered a chance in the

documentary film. Mr. Gupta, the film producer and his associate

Mr. Devraj visit Lalitha's home, she is asked to perform various

dance steps in front of Mr. Gupta who congratulates her and says

he could use her definitely. Amma fails to understand him and

enquires "In what way" (91). In speech, the respondent is at

liberty to avoid clarity and accomplish circularity. He can

deliberately conceal his talk and use an alternative to the

thing spoken about. Mr Gupta's presents are well accepted by all

the members especially Lalitha:

Sweetness, said Lalitha: sugar-doll, sugar-sweet, sugar-

candy. Whom do you mean ? asked Aunt Alamelu. She knew who

was meant . . . Why, said Lalitha, I meant these dainties and delicacies, what else should I mean, did you have some

person in mind ? (la21

Dr. Radcliffe and his wife Marjorie Radcliffe (The Nowhere

hardly care to understand each other, he is deeply immersed

in his profession and patients, she, on the other hand, wants a

social life. They try telling their problems to each other but

each one values one's own ideas. When spouses don't tell each

other how they feel, it's as if there is an elephant in the room

that never gets talked about. Radcliffe and his wife have

entirely different tastes and cannot understand each other. Most

often they give an "oh" for an answer or maintain silence, both

of which show disinterestedness. When Radcliffe returns home

late, and having failed to telephone her, his wife questions him.

He tells her, "It was an unusual case" (131, to which she

responds "oh". When she had things to say to him of the

neighbours around, of the party, he too merely responds "oh". To

Marjorie, her husband's patients are tiresome :

"Tiresome," she continued, "as I said to Julia only

today. When she called. Julia called today" said

Marjorie, and waited . . .

"Do you know what ? " she asked.

"No" he answered

Julia . . . Julia is going to tea with the Queen. On

the occasion of the opening of the new maternity wing."

"oh," he said . . .

"Is that all you can say ? " she asked him.

"It is an honour," he managed. (13-14)

The most important tool we have in sustaining a relationship is

communication. A nice marriage is where there are no conflicts,

but a good marriage is one in which problems are faced, discussed

and dealt with. The Radcliffe-Marjorie couple stands in

comparison to Deven and Sarla (In Custody). Deven knows that,

like him, his wife too has been defeated, like her, he is a

victim. Although each understands the secret truth about the

other, it does not "bring about any closeness of spirit, any

comradeship, because they also sensed that two victims ought to

avoid each other, not yoke together their joint disappointments"

( 6 8 ) .

Sarla shows her anger and despair by scolding the little kid,

or noisily clearing the utensils, thus avenging herself. She

never speaks loudly to Deven, rebelling in her own silent way. It

is the lack of communication that disrupts Dr. Radcliffe-Marjorie

bond and Deven-Sarla bond. Speech is the most viable means of

communication, but in cases where the partner is short-tempered

or not understanding, it is better to remain silent, and approach

him and speak when the circumstances seem favourable.

Bawajiraj (The Golden Honeycomb) who is married to Shanta

Devi, has more intimate relations with his mistress Mohini, in

whom he confides everything and with whom he is happy to share

anything. To stay away from her even for a day disheartens him.

He showers his love on her and approaches her for the intimate

man-woman relationship. When a son is born to her, he thinks it

his duty to provide her safe lodgings. He therefore summons his

wife and says of the Summer palace: "You hardly ever use it . . . It is a pity to leave it empty" ( 4 2 ) . Shanta Devi understands him

and asks, "for your paramour then. For you and her." ( 4 3 ) Shanta

Devi fails to understand the power Mohini has over her husband;

The Maharani Shanta Devi lay in her bed and listened

to the clamour with the passive bitterness that all the

years had been unable to expunge. She was the Maharani,

the lawful wife of the Maharajah. She would not have

minded a second Maharani, or a third, or a concubine who

pleasad a passing fancy. (356)

Though Shanta Devi would not mind a concubine, she does not want

any woman to usurp her place. She wants to be her husband's right

hand always. Shanta Devi, rather than speaking directly to

Bawajiraj, often broods over the issue, which irritates him.

Though Bawajiraj's life is full and tension free, which is

an outcome of his own wife's silence, he despises her for her

docility. Bawajiraj makes it a point to take Mohini along to

durbar and other matters of State. Though Shanta Devi also

accompanies, she is left in a tent of her own. Shanta Devi

jealously wonders what any couple can find to talk about, after

so marly years of living together.

Shanta Devi's unprotesting acceptance of her husband's

illicit relationship can be compared to Nanda Kaul's (Fire on

the) silence. Nanda is aware of her husband's life-long

affair with Miss David. She has been a silent spectator to all

his movements, but refuses to make any comments. Most evenings

they engage in a game of badminton and Nanda muses over their

relationship; "he had been to drop some of the guests home--no,

she corrected herself with asperity, one of the guests home

( 2 6 ) . It seems that she refuses to recognise the relationship

between her husband and Miss David. One reason, it is idyllic and

it does not disrupt the peace at home. Perhaps, she does not want

the children to become aware of the affair. Her external silence

is the severest curse to her mental peace, for, even after his

death, even after so many years, his love for Miss David rankles.

Nanda is one of the few survivals of the aristocratic society who

cannot bear personal insults. The love between the Vice-

chancellor and Miss David is aesthetic, they carry on the affair

within the social norms, and the game of badminton is a kind of

love making in the sense that there is participation for them,

emotional as well as physical.

Nanda Kaul weaves a story of her happy childhood, of her

father's visits to Tibet, of her happpy married life with her

Vice-chancellor husband. She has been inventing these lies which

act like tranquillizers, necessary for her to continue the act of

living in the abandoned state. All those graces and glories with

which she had tried to captivate Raka were only a fabrication:

"they helped her sleep at night, they were tranquillizers, pills"

(145). As Tennesse William's in his Twenty Seven Wagons full of

cotton and other plays puts it: "There are no lies but the lies

that are stuffed in the mouth by the hard knuckled hand of need,

the cold iron fist of necessity" (71). Nanda's weaving a false

story is merely to seek Raka's attraction, and it also serves as

a panacea to her forlorn and wounded marital life, but it is all

disrupted with the cruel truth exposed by Illa Das,

We'd play mixed doubles. I remember playing with one of

your great-uncles, my dear, against the Vice-chancellor

and Miss David. Miss David was an ace player--ouh, she

was good--and they beat us hollow . . ' ( 1 2 2 1

It is Raka who observes the strange and sudden change in the

unceasing flow of nostalgic memories. "she saw her great

grandmother carefully build a cage with her long fingers,a cage

of white bones, crackling apart" (122). This incident suggests

that Illa Das is going to be an agent for the psychological

destruction of Nanda. Nanda has created a cage to protect her

from the onslaught of the humiliating truths of her past. The

self-created cage cracks apart due to Illa's careless rambling.

Nanda, who has been listening to Illa Das's revelation can bear

it no l o n g e r .

Now Nanda Kaul r o s e and showed t h e worth of h e r

background, h e r upbr ing ing . Now was t h e moment t o r i s e

and p u t a l l i n i t ' s p l a c e . . . . Now w a s t h e t ime t o

s i l e n c e i t , t o srnmoth it away and show h e r c h a r a c t e r

. . . Raka, w i l l you c a l l Ramlal, p l e a s e , t o t a k e away

t h e t e a . The f l i e s a r e a nu i sance . ( 1 2 2 )

Nanda cannot b e a r Raka t o h e a r any more of t h e t r u t h f o r t h e

t r u t h r e f l e c t s h e r own l i f e . She t h e r e f o r e sends Raka t o summon

t o Ramlal t o c l e a r away t h e t e a .

Speech is i n t e r r e l a t i o n a l and man ipu la t ive . Non-

p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n t h e speech a c t does n o t mean non p a r t i c i p a t i o n

i n t h e s o c i a l a c t . A person chooses t o remain s i l e n t o r avoid

s i l e n c e e i t h e r t o c o n t r o l o r t o be c o n t r o l l e d . I n Bye Bye-Black

W, M r . Roscommon James remains s i l e n t and p a s s i v e l y a c c e p t s

t h e r o l e of a s e r v a n t , he is c o n t r o l l e d and dominated over by

h i s w i f e .

I n Desai's n o v e l s , s i l e n c e connotes i s o l a t i o n and

s e p a r a t e n e s s . Nanda has ach ieved t h e d e s i r e d l o n e l i n e s s and f e e l s

happy. She has over-looked t h e b a s i c p r i n c i p l e t h a t t h e p a s t

cannot be s h u t o u t by f l e e i n g from i t . I l l a i s a remarkable

c h a r a c t e r , who amidst t h e many t r i a l s and t r i b u l a t i o n s , f a c e s

l i f e b o l d l y . She i n h e r i t s no th ing from t h e f ami ly p r o p e r t y , and

when s h e does n o t g e t t h e d e s i r e d and worthy p o s t i n t h e c o l l e g e ,

she b e a r s it ca lmly , y e t b o l d l y . The h i g h l y s u g g e s t i v e n a t u r e of

eve ry g e s t u r e i n D e s a i ' s nove l s i s t h e ha l l -mark of h e r a r t .

I l i a ' s ha l f s t a r v e d e x i s t e n c e and h e r e f f o r t s t o bea r it s i l e n t l ~

a r e made c l e a r i n a s i m p l e g e s t u r e of h e r s . When asked i f she

could make b o t h ends meet, I l l a Das f o l d s up h e r handkerchief

"into s m a l l e r and even s m a l l e r squa re s . When it could n o t be

f o l d e d any f u r t h e r , s h e h e l d it t i g h t l y i n h e r hand" ( 1 2 6 ) .

Maya (Crv. The Peacock) i s p r o j e c t e d a s a h e l p l e s s s u f f e r i n g

mar ty r , a c h i l d l e s s woman, g r ipped by t h e mis for tune of h e r p e t ' s

dea th . Deep w i t h i n h e r , she i s t h r e a t e n e d by t h e a l b i n o

a s t r o l o g e r ' s prophecy of an e a r l y d e a t h of one of t h e spouses ,

b u t t h e gap of communicatiori between Maya and Gautama l eaves he r

l o n e l y t o brood ove r t h e morbid though t s . Everytime she a t tempts

t o communicate, s h e f a i l s and t h e n withdraws i n t o h e r s e l f . Her

main problem i s t h a t s h e cannot exp res s h e r s e l f . Maya i s unable

t o c o n f i d e i n Gautama of h e r f e a r s . I n s p i t e of Gautama's

r epea t ed q u e s t i o n s about t h e l e t t e r Arjuna, h e r b r o t h e r , has

w r i t t e n : "you neve r exp la ined i t . What was t h a t horoscope he

wro te about?" (150). Maya h i d e s t h e s e c r e t from him, and pre tends

t o know n o t h i n g of i t . "Be l i eve me. Gautama, I--I do not

remember" (151). I t i s good f u r spouses t o t a l k . t v each o t h e r of

how t h e y f e e l , communicatior~ cannot be coe rced . Often a

predicament pushes coup le s i n t o an a l l t o o f a m i l a r r u t . She

t h i n k s he does n o t have f e e l i n g s because he won' t t a l k about

them; he t h i n k s s h e ' s t o o emotional because s h e won' t t a l k about

any th ing e l s e . Before p u t t i n g p r e s s u r e on your spouse t o t a l k

about f e e l i n g s and i n s t e a d of i n t e r p r e t i n g s i l e n c e a s

i n d i f f e r e n c e , One should remember t h a t sometimes t a l k i n g i s

simply t o o p a i n f u l . Maya and Gautama f a c e problems b u t they do

not sit together and discuss th5n1. Maya does not confide in

Gautama of her fears, of the albino's prophecy, instead she says.

"I wish I could see father again. It always helps." In spite of

his repeated questions, "Helps what? Whom?" ( 53) she does not

tell him anything, but expects him to understand all that she

meant :

'I won't be going after all ' . . . 'Where ? ' . . . 'To Darjeeling--With father.'

'oh,' he said. 'How was I to know what you meant?

You might as well have been referring to that dinner at

the Lal's next week--I suddenly remembered that. '

'Dinner ? Out ? Next week ? ' I cried. 'oh, I had

forgotten.' (56)

The novel centres upon Maya's longing for her father. She does

not even mention a photograph or any conversation with her father

about her mother. It seems that it might be a painful and

disgusting episode in her father's life, so he must be concealing

it from her.

Maya's mother-in-law is highly active and concerned with many

social causes. It is doubtful if she really cares for her kith

and kin. Even her smile like her voice is ambiauuus, at once far

away and absent-minded, yet tender and involved. When Gautama's

mother tells her, "It was wise of Gautama to have married you"

( 4 7 ) , to Maya the voice seems "at once soft and broken with

harshness. So that I could not tell whether she said this out of

affection or had some motive far removed from any personal

feeling" ( 4 7 ) . When in need of money she asks Maya, "when will

your father send me another cheque, Maya?" ( 4 7 ) . Maya thought

herself to be a necessary thing, though not necessarily loved.

Several factors make or mar a relationship.Some individuals

are better able to adjust in adverse circumstances than others.

Robert A Baron, in Sucial Pss~c~oloav: U n d v

Interaction states:

Sometimes these relationships develop into the most

positive ties and sometimes they degenerate into

cumbersome bonds. There are certain personality

attributes and situational influences that help

increase interpersonal harmony between very dissimilar

individuals to tolerate and sometimes to like one

another". (199)

Through the channel of communication, the spouses get to know

each other, but the problem with Desai's characters is that they

never communicate, instead they brood over the problem by

themselves which forces them to commit suicide. Earl H. Bell in

Sooial Foundation of H i m Behaviol= opines that lack of

communication or pseudo communication is explained as a "failure

to apprehend the meanings of a cun~munication of another Fervor)

as intended" ( 2 8 8 ) . Maya fails to communicate with Gautama and

that results in her failure and insanity.

In Voices in the Citv, Monisha's attempts to suppress all

emotion lead to a sense of barrennes, of futility, of being

locked in "a steel container, a thick glass cubicle" ( 2 3 9 ) . She

regards communication with her husband's family members

humiliating and decides that "anything one cherishes should be

kept a great secret." She therefore finds an outlet in diary

writing. Monisha is unique in her suffering and her silence is

deep-rooted. She does not wish to communicate, nor does she seek

any positive relationship with her husband. Instead of human

company she seeks solace in silence and darkness.

Only the dark spaces between the stars, for they are the

only things on earth that can comfort me, rub balm into

my wounds, into my throbbing head, and bring me this

coolness, this stillness, this interval of peace. (138)

The "dark spaces between the stars" which sadden Maya, comfort

the parched soul of Monisha.

For Monisha, as also for Nirode, touch and communication

imply humiliation. Nirode is certain that one can retain one's

sanity by being secretive and closing all communication. To

Monisha he exhorts, "Never tell them your secrets" ( 1 3 2 ) .

Communication appears to him painful and humiliating as to

Monisha. In the first few pages of the novel, we learn that

Nirode has opted for a life of "shadows, silence and stillness"

( 8 ) . That certainly is not the healthy yearning for inner

silence. Dr. S. Radhakrishnan in W r i w opines that

silent hours give us time for self-communication which can lead

to the analysis of the self:

In these silent hours of self-communion we strive to

free ourselves from the suffocating routine, from the

masks and mummeries of existence, cleanse our thoughts,

and create within ourselves a clean heart and a single

mind. (57)

The element of love is absent in the life of both Nirode and

Monisha. Nirode creates for himself dead silence which does not

echo with the spirit's voice. According to J. Krishnamurthy, the

absence of noise is not silence. It is a higher virtue which

requires the sound foundation of love. To put it in

J. Krishnamurthy's own words:

If you have not laid the foundation which is love, which

is virtue, which is goodness, which is beauty, which is

real compassion in the depth of your whole being, if you

have not done that, your silence is only the ending of

noise. (Jkvor~d V i o l e ~ , 391

Desai's characters fear love as attachment, for them silence

connotes isolation.

When one communicates, one is always listening with the third

ear, and thus finding out the real motive of the speaker.

Sometimes, one communicates with the sole intention of knowing

what is going on in the other's mind. This is possible to the

degree to which individuals have common cognition, wants and

attitudes. When Nirode's brother Arun makes preparation to go to

London for his higher education, standing on the railway

platform, he says, "I am sorry, now to leave" but Nirode who eyes

him jealously sees the tautness in the young man's body and sees

how his eyes shone; "'Liar,' he said. 'You're itching to start.'

Arun laughed. He moved, and from his movement one could see how

right Nirode was" (5). Nirode envies his brother Arun who is

going abroad to study as he is getting out of thi5 "dark

pandemonium" ( 7 ) .

There seemed to be no proper communication between the Mother

and Nirode. He is envious of Major Chadha, of whom in her letter

to Nirode she mentions that "he is the soul of helpfulness" ( 3 7 )

who enquires of her needs. Nirode's love for his mother turns to

disgust and revulsion because she has praised the MaJor'J

helpfulness. First her letter was "like a warm, enveloping

succubus in the shape of a bright winged butterfly" ( 3 7 ) , but

after reading it, "it was like sinking his teeth tlirougl~ a swet

mulberry to bite into a caterpillar's entrails" (37). To Mirode

his mother is a wanton. When his mother writes about M,a.ior Chadha

and says that he is helpful, Nirode interprets it to mean that he

is helpful by "providing her wit11 male compar~y and admiration"

( 3 7 ) .

Though everyone thinks that Mvnisha lacks the elerncnt of

love, it is not totally absent in her. When Nirode is ill she

nurses him: She cuts his overgrown hair and feels immensely

touched as it happens to be the first human act that ahe has ever

done. She has cut her brother's hair with a feeling of

attachment, love and involvement. This act reminds on.-- of Eon1

Bhaskar in Arun Joshi' s ~ , ~ _ L i l S ~ u U ~ , who r > a i ~ ~ C s 1113

mother's nails when she is on the death bed, considering it as

the only offering o f love to her. Monisha's act confirms that she

is ot totally devoid of emotions. Plonisl~a's reticent naturc

towards her llusband and his family is due to her glorification of

self, which makes her feel that Jiban is unfit to be her tiusband.

Monisha, on seeing Nirode's pitiable condition asks him,

"Nirode, you are so thin." She is aware of his love for their

mother, but does not want to bring in that subject. She has

actually wanted to put forward the question, "If mother saw you

her heart would--this I cannot tell him." 'why' is all I ask

(114). Monisha pauses and leaves the question unasked, unsure of

how he would react to it. She reaches out to touch his hand to

give him an assurance of rest and he catches it by the wrist and

weakly flings it off. "It is not you I need" (128). Nirode has an

obvious mother obsession, but he conceals it. Monisha asks

herself: "What does he need, this grounded, broken brother-bird?

Merely his mother?" (128). Only a person with a frank mind can

speak out his troubles. He is silent of his silent need for his

mother, but pride intervenes which leaves his need unsaid.

While communicating, one should be very careful with one's

usage of words, such that it does not hurt the other's pride.

Monisha takes money from Jiban's purse to clear Nirode's hospital

bills, but her mother-in-law accuses her of theft:

'Money has been stolen, you know, Jiban's money' . . . 'He left it ir~ the cupboard when he went to the office:

my son is always careful of his things. Only you were in

the room at that time. When you left, you shut the door

and none of the servants could have gone in. Of course

the servants will be dismissed, all of them. I will not

have a thief in my house, I say, I will not have a thief

in my house. Who is to tell who this thief is ? After

all, you were the only person who was in the room all

day.' (137)

Monisha has every right over Jiban's money, but by living an

isolated life, she has never been considered a member of the

family. Only if one moves around and communicates, one will be

accepted, or if Monisha had taken over the situation in her

hands, letting them know she too has a right over Jiban's money,

the matter would have been solved, but her silence irritates

them. She herself ponders: "I am too silent for them, I know:

they all distrust silence" (119). Austin Quigley in The Pinter

Eroblem, testifies that, silence which is often the culmination

of verbal interaction is neither a failure of communication, nor

a failure of language" (160). Harold Pinter in his speech to the

Seventh National Student Drama Festival in Briston says that "we

communicate only too well in our silence, in what is unsaid,

and . . . what takes place is continual evasion, desperate rearguard attempts to keep ourselves to overselves" ( 2 5 ) .

Monisha's inlaws believe that people who maintain an unusual

silence for a long time take to mischievous deeds. It is sheer

contempt and spite for Jiban and his family that makes her

silent, forbidding and frigid.

The mother-father relationship is laid on hatred and each one

has his own way of attaining peace. Instead of speaking out their

problems, they turn to their own ways of attaining peace. While

the mother adopts a method to attain peace by getting involved in

things of her liking, Monislia has nothing to do, she finds her

life meaningless and opts for suicide. She sums up her life:

. . . waiting for nothing, waiting on men self-centred and indifferent and hungry and demanding and critical, waiting

for death and dying misunderstood, always behind bars, those

terrifying black bars that shut us in, in the old houses, in

the old city. ( 1 2 0 )

She will never wait for a meaningless death passively to end her

meaningless life. She will surely make it meaningful and

dignified, as, after all, the choice lies in her own hands. This

decision is unspoken.

Dharma's wife Gita Devi leads a silent and quiet life. Gita

Devi's prayers, characterised by "unharmonious bells and ominous

conch shell groans" (187), come to symbolise her suppressed rage,

despair and protest against her husband's callousness. Rung Bala

Goel in m u a g e and Theme in Anita Desai's Fiction remarks: "the

regular worship is a compulsive bitter escape on Gita Devi's

part" (57) as she cannot communicate with anyone, of her

husband's rejecting their only daughter, as she marries her

cousin, against her father's decision.

Bim (Clear Light of Dar) has given up any thought of marriage

and devoted herself to looking after her younger brothers and

sister. The brother Raja, her favourite leaves home and gets

married, Tara too is married and finally there is Baba, the

mentally retarded brother. With such a tension-packed atmosphere,

she takes to soliloquy. A soliloquy is spoken by one person that

is alone or acts as though i ~ a were aLo11e. It is a kind of talking

to oneself, not intended to affect others. Thinking aloud and

talking to oneself are phenomena that do occur in the real world,

though talking in this manner for too long is generally thought

to be a pathological deviation from the norm and those who are

not pathologically disturbed restrict their thinking aloud to

brief exclamations. The urge to talk alone takes place when one

is alone or when one feels lonely in a crowd. One wants to talk

to others, but there remains a barrier which prevents one from

talking. In some cases, the long years of living alone, has led

people to this state. Bim is lonely always, except when Tara

visits her once a while. Tara who notices the change in her

sister suggests:

'I mean', said Tara, looking away, 'I mean--you need

a change. '

'What makes you think that ? ' asked Bim in

wonder, . . . 'I mean--I've been watchiung you, Bim. Do--d'you

know you talk to yourself? I've heard you--muttering-

as you walk along--when you think you're alone--'

'I didn't know I was being watched.' Bin1 broke in,

flushing with anger.

'I--I couldn't help overhearing. And then--your

hands. You keep gesturing with them, you know. I don't

think you know Bim.'

I don't--and I didn't know I was supposed to keep my

hands still when I talked. The girls in college did a

skit once--one of them acted me, waving her hands while

she talked. It was quite funny'.

'No, Bim, you do it even when you're not talking. I

mean, you must be talking to yourself.'

'Don't we all?' Bim enquired . . . . 'Not aloud, Bim.' (142-143)

Communication takes place between persons not by words alone;

expression and gestures too play a prominent role. When Tara

visits home, she is surprised to see that Bim owns a pet cat and

a dog. Although Bim is rubbing her chin on the cat's flat topped

ears, she notices Tara's expression: '"I know what you're

thinking'she said, 'you're thinking how old spinsters go ga-ga

over their pets because they haven't children'' (6). Tara's look

of surprise turns to guilt:

'What makes you say that ? Actually, I was thinking

about the girls. I was wondering--'

'Exactly. That's what I said. You think animals take

the place of babies for us love-starved spinsters.' ( 7 )

The urge to 'write' as you 'speak' can lead to a trap. If one

Puts into letters or print too much racy speech, the resulting

prose will be either an enemy maker or something to be laughed

at; if one writes as loosely as one talks, one's letter or essay

or report will command little respect. Bim and Raja during their

childhood were deeply affectionate. But after his marriage to

Benazir (whose house they live on rent) Raja had written to Bim a

letter, which humiliated her:

But you must remember that when 1 left you, 1 promised

I would always look after you, Bim. When Hyder Ali

Sahib was ill and making out his will, Benazir herself

spoke to him about the house and asked him to allow YOU

to keep it at the same rent we used to pay him when

father and mother were alive. tie agreed--you know he

never cared for money, only for friendship--and I want

to assure you that now that he is dead and has left all

his property to us, you may continue to have it at the

same rent, I shall never think of raising it or of

selling the house as long as you and Baba need it. ( 2 7 )

Speech or silence serves its desired purpose when used

thoughtfully. One can speak out one thing and conceal another, it

therefore helps in concealing facts. When Bim visited the Misra

girls, her neighbours, she was invited to join them in the garden

but she did not like the Misra brothers and iaorder to avoid them

said: that she was listening to the uncle who was speaking of how

he was sent to England. Raja, who is tired of his diseased home

wants to ecape to Hyder Ali's home wherein he receives happiness

and calmness of mind. After Mira masi's death, Raja frankly

expresses his plan of going away to join Hyder Ali and his

family. From Bim's looks, Raja understands that she does not like

his decision:

'I never said a word' said Bim coldly.

'You don't have to. It's written all over your face.

Just go, go, take your face away. Don't sit there

staring. Don't stop me.' (100-01)

Even Tara, the younger sister, is fed up with the deceased home

atmosphere, with Raja suffering from tuberculosis, the retarded

Baba, and the strange ways of the old Mira JEEA. Bim, the elder

sister, who is well appreciated, has little or no time for the

timid looking always failing Tara. It is only years later when

Tara reveals the secret that Bim understands the feelings Tara

has undergone. Tara, who suffered no physical ailments, was never

cared for. All her pent up feelings and emotions find release in

her marriage to Bakul. She tells Bim:

The kind of atmosphere that used to fill it when father

and mother were alive, always ill or playing cards or

at the club, always m, always leaving us out, leaving

us behind - and then Mira masi becoming so -so strange,

and Raja so ill - till it seemed that the house was ill,

illness passing from one generation to the other so that

anyone who lived in it was bound to become ill, and the

only thing to do was to get away from it, escape . . . Bim's eyes narrowed as she sat listening to her

sister's out burst. 'Did you feel that way?' She

asked, coolly curious--I didn't know. I think I was so

occupied with Raja and Mira that I didn't

notice what effect it had on you. Why didn't I? she

mused, swinging her leg casually. 'And that is why

you married Bakul instead of going to college?' (15fi)

Bim's mental alertness is revealed in her decision not to enter

into a marriage with a person like Dr. Biswas. It certai~llj7 is a

lucrative offer, particularly for a young girl i l l Rim's

situation. A t first she is swayed yet she reslises that he is not

the person for her, when she hears his remark:

'Now I understand why you do not wish t,o marry. You

have dedicated your life to others--to your sick

brother and your aged aunt and your little brother who

will be dependent on you all his life. You have

sacrificed your own life for them.' (97)

She knows she is being misjudged. She presses her hands to

control her anger and frustration at being so misunderstood, "her

tangled emotions twisted her face and shook her, shook the

thought of Biswas out of her" (97). Bim in her early days always

loved to be the heroine, the mistress of everything. Even in the

family too, she took the upper hand and thrust the responsibility

of Aunt Mira, Raja and Baba on her shoulders caring the least for

herself.

Desai's characters, by maintaining silence and suppressing

their emotions, are forced to lead a trapped life. To quote

Srinivasa Iyengar in Indian Writinn in E n g l m , her characters

either "wriggle within the cage for better understanding or break

loose to live separate lives" (455). Sita (Where Shall We

So) had been living a desperate life with her husband

and children :

"it all became harder than ever before, for me. Very

hard--this making of compromises when one didn't want

to compromise, when one wanted to--to . . . " ( 1 4 8 )

When her husband Raman, like evey year before the onslaught of

summer innocently asked : "Where shall we go this summer," she

instantly replied, "To Manori," though in silence, because she

wanted to go there alone to lead a seperate life, for she

thought, the island had magic, which would prevent her from

giving birth to the fifth child.

During the early years of her married life, she was tired of

her husband's family. She thus suppressed all her emotions and

feelings which led her to bahave provocatively:

it was there that she started smoking, a thing that had

never been done in their household by any women and

even by men only in secret--and began to speak in

sudden rushes of emotion, as though flinging darts at

their smooth, unscarred faces. ( 4 8 )

This was Sita's way of protesting silently, an outlet of her

emotions.

Once, driving back from a week's holiday exploring the

Ajanta and Ellora caves, they came across a foreigner who had to

go to Ajanta, but was standing in the wrong direction. Raman

advises him, "If you want a lift to Ajanta, you had better cross

the road and stand on that side" (51). To Sita, the man seemed so

brave, "not knowing anything, but going on nevertheless" ( 5 2 ) .

She spoke of the man several times even after many months. Raman

regarded her admiration for and interest in the hitch hiker

practically as an act of infidelity, yet, being level-headed, he

did not create troubles centring on that subject.

From her childhood itself, Sita was taught to maintain

silence, though her mind was full of doubts regarding her family.

Sita's agitation on learning that Rekha is her step sister is

brought out effectively through a visual image: "Who says SO?"

cried Sita, leaping up and sending one whole side of the wall

crashing with the pressure of her agitated foot" ( 7 8 - 7 9 ) .

Throughout her stay on the island, she could not verify Jivan's

story. This revelation shattered her sense of security which she

had constructed with loving care. But his words had dropped on

her skin like acid and felt them burn whenever she caught an

exchange of that heavy-lidded look between father and Rekha.

Sita's inability to confront the father about his shady and

hidden past, her inner fury and sorrow at his rejection and

neglect of her, find an objective co-relative in the fury of

nature :

. . . the sound of the dry palm leaves clattering,

clashing together--suddenly, precipitately--in the

salt wind . . , The hiss of the spurting wind, the

rattle of those harsh leaves, had made her brush away

his hand and rush up to the house, the lantern

hysterically swinging. (80)

Appearances are deceptive. All alone Sita thought Rekha was an

ardent devotee of the father, but soon after his death, Rekha

tells, "Come, . . . we can go now" (98) signifying she had desperately waited and planned for this moment of release from

the old man's love. Further more, the nerve shattering truth that

her mother is not dead as she has been led to believe all these

Years, but that she has run away, living somewhere in Benaras,

dismays Sita.

The people of Manori had great faith in Sita's father. When

he took the initiative in digging a well, the people claimed that

after drinking water from the well, they were cured of their

diseases :

"The well is blessed," she [the fisherwomanl

declared, "my boils are gone". Father stepped back and

seemed thrown off his balance for a moment, till he

understood and accepted this element in his career,

and he smiled, saying nothing. ( 6 9 )

The father himself was not aware of his power, but when the

people thrust upon him his "miracle cures," he did not protest.

His silence may mean that he was longing for such a place in the

people's mind. He was looked upon as a Gandhi, and followed the

Gandhian principles. Sita, even as a child describes her father

as "one of those white water birds that marked the sands with

their starred footprints" ( 6 7 ) . The father's desire to leave

behind him, after his death a name for himself is suggested by

the word "footprints". Sita, even as a child perceives this

silent desire of her father and makes a reference to it

unconsciously.

Sita who comes to- the island expecting some miracle to

happen, finally accepts life and goes back with her husband.

According to N.R. Shastri, in his article on "Where Shall We Go

This Summer?", Anita Desai's "fictional philosophy seems to

crystallise in this novel, . . . consequently, the novel seems to

acquire a new idiom in that the death/suicide syndl-ome of her

earlier fiction gives place to a sober, balanced acceptance of

life" (83). Amla and Sarah of the earlier novels find a successor

in Sita who too compromises with life. Acceptance or maintaining

silence does not mean that these qualities are in no way related

to an absence of emotions or even of sensitivity. Acceptance

comes only after the characters have felt deeply about the events

which they eventually accept. Maya and Monisha commit suicide as

they felt they had no meaningful role in society, but with the

death of Monisha, Nirode feels that he is a part of the society

and his life would hold a meaning only if he is reconciled rather

than fragmented from the society, so too Sita. Sarla (In Custody)

is a strong silent presence hovering on the margins of the

narrative. She is skeptical of Deven's enterprise, warns him

against the expensive trips to Delhi. At one time she takes their

son and leaves home in disgust. But since domesticity is a minor

issue in the novel, Sarla remains a type figure for "countless

generations of Hindu womanhood'' prevented from "open rebellion"

(145-146).

The best way to make up for the existing differences is to

speak frankly to one's partner. We should not shut our lips to

those to whom we have opened our heart. Speech/silence can itself

turn out to be either a boon or a curse depending on the

circumstances and one's responses. Thomas Hardy in Far From

The M a U n a Crowd has given an impressive account of silence :

Silence has sometimes a remarkable power of showing

itself as the disembodied soul of feeling wandering

without its carcase, (sic) and it is t l ~ c r ~ more

impressive than speech. In the same way, to say a

little is often to tell more than to say a great deal. (144)