Lakshmi’s saas Character Analysis

Hari chuckled, a sound without joy. “Now that you’re working for the palace, you're too good to help her yourself?”

I felt my face grow warm. For a decade, I had been healing the rich, only, for their minor, more emotional troubles. If I'd stayed with Hari, no doubt Saasuji would have gotten around to teaching me the more complex procedures only she practiced. I shivered as I imagined my mother-in-law regarding me with as much dismay as Hari was now.

He knew he'd touched a tender spot. “Even Radha travels in such fine circles now.” Before I could ask him what he meant, he said, “How much did the palace bursar give you?”

Day after day, I worked alongside her to heal women—most were children still, twenty years old or younger, bodies weak from too many births, too many of them rough. Their days were filled with worry about how to feed their brood; at night they prayed their husbands would come home from labor too tired to add to their troubles. One day Saasuji taught me to prepare the contraceptive tea. And I realized that cotton root bark could change a woman's life: she could choose for herself.

That was what I wanted: a life that could fulfill me in a way that children wouldn't. From that day, I hoarded all the knowledge my mother-in-law could give me. Let her be the rolling pin that shapes a ball of chappati. Almost overnight, my world grew large with possibility.

How could I not manage one sentence that would help my sister understand that everything I did was for her own good? She exasperated me and sometimes intimidated me, but I would do anything to make her life better, easier[…]

I'd seen what Radha hadn’t: desperate women begging my saas to rid them of their burdens. Where she saw joy, I saw hardship. Where she saw love, I saw responsibility, obligation. Could they be two sides of the same coin? Had I experienced both love and duty, delight and exasperation, since she entered my life?

Jay Kumar was offering me a chance to heal, to work with people who wanted what I had to offer. Who believed my knowledge was sacred. It was a chance to do the work my saas taught me. She lived in me, still. I could make her proud once more. Be proud of myself again.

But…my house! I had dreamed it, worked hard for it, built it. I'd love knowing that all the decisions were mine. Moving meant I would have to leave it behind.

Yet, what had the house brought me but debt, anxiety, sleepless nights? Did I need it to announce my arrival in the world of the successful, as I once had? Success was ephemeral—and fluid—as I had found out the hard way. It came. It went. It changed you from the outside, but not from the inside. Inside, I was still the same girl who dreamed of a destiny greater than she was allowed. Did I really need the house to prove I had skill, talent, ambition, intelligence? What if—

“The gossip-eaters were right. I'll always be the Bad Luck Girl.”

I pulled my head back to look at her. I lifted her chin. “No, Radha, you won't. You never were. You never will be. I'm sorry I ever said that of you. You've brought so much good luck into my life, into our lives. If it hadn't been for you, do you think I'd be going to Shimla? Building my own healing garden? Working with Dr. Kumar? How would I have done any of that without you?”[…]

“And look how you've helped me create a family. Malik. Kanta and Manu. And Nikhil. And, of course, you. You, Radha, Krishna’s wise gopi.”

What a miracle that she had found me, and I, her.

“So, Rundo Rani, burri sayani…are you coming to Shimla with us?”

Hari chuckled, a sound without joy. “Now that you’re working for the palace, you're too good to help her yourself?”

I felt my face grow warm. For a decade, I had been healing the rich, only, for their minor, more emotional troubles. If I'd stayed with Hari, no doubt Saasuji would have gotten around to teaching me the more complex procedures only she practiced. I shivered as I imagined my mother-in-law regarding me with as much dismay as Hari was now.

He knew he'd touched a tender spot. “Even Radha travels in such fine circles now.” Before I could ask him what he meant, he said, “How much did the palace bursar give you?”

Day after day, I worked alongside her to heal women—most were children still, twenty years old or younger, bodies weak from too many births, too many of them rough. Their days were filled with worry about how to feed their brood; at night they prayed their husbands would come home from labor too tired to add to their troubles. One day Saasuji taught me to prepare the contraceptive tea. And I realized that cotton root bark could change a woman's life: she could choose for herself.

That was what I wanted: a life that could fulfill me in a way that children wouldn't. From that day, I hoarded all the knowledge my mother-in-law could give me. Let her be the rolling pin that shapes a ball of chappati. Almost overnight, my world grew large with possibility.

How could I not manage one sentence that would help my sister understand that everything I did was for her own good? She exasperated me and sometimes intimidated me, but I would do anything to make her life better, easier[…]

I'd seen what Radha hadn’t: desperate women begging my saas to rid them of their burdens. Where she saw joy, I saw hardship. Where she saw love, I saw responsibility, obligation. Could they be two sides of the same coin? Had I experienced both love and duty, delight and exasperation, since she entered my life?

Jay Kumar was offering me a chance to heal, to work with people who wanted what I had to offer. Who believed my knowledge was sacred. It was a chance to do the work my saas taught me. She lived in me, still. I could make her proud once more. Be proud of myself again.

But…my house! I had dreamed it, worked hard for it, built it. I'd love knowing that all the decisions were mine. Moving meant I would have to leave it behind.

Yet, what had the house brought me but debt, anxiety, sleepless nights? Did I need it to announce my arrival in the world of the successful, as I once had? Success was ephemeral—and fluid—as I had found out the hard way. It came. It went. It changed you from the outside, but not from the inside. Inside, I was still the same girl who dreamed of a destiny greater than she was allowed. Did I really need the house to prove I had skill, talent, ambition, intelligence? What if—

“The gossip-eaters were right. I'll always be the Bad Luck Girl.”

I pulled my head back to look at her. I lifted her chin. “No, Radha, you won't. You never were. You never will be. I'm sorry I ever said that of you. You've brought so much good luck into my life, into our lives. If it hadn't been for you, do you think I'd be going to Shimla? Building my own healing garden? Working with Dr. Kumar? How would I have done any of that without you?”[…]

“And look how you've helped me create a family. Malik. Kanta and Manu. And Nikhil. And, of course, you. You, Radha, Krishna’s wise gopi.”

What a miracle that she had found me, and I, her.

“So, Rundo Rani, burri sayani…are you coming to Shimla with us?”