Ravi Singh Quotes in The Henna Artist
I shook my head. “You think it's that easy? This house took thirteen years of hard work and Yes, Ji and No, Ji and Whatever you say, Ji. You'll never have to do that if you go to that school. You have many years in which to have a child, after you finish school. […] You can be something better than a henna artist. Better than me. You can have a meaningful life.” The water was almost boiling. “Just—please help me find the cotton root bark.”
Her voice trembled. “He said I was just another cheap pair of hands to you. Your business only took off after I arrived. You told me yourself you booked more appointments now because of my henna. If that's true, then why can't you trust me to think for myself? […] It doesn't matter how hard I work, how much I do. You'll never have faith in me!”
“You’re the one who let it happen.” He frowned. “She’s your sister.”
“And your son? Who’s responsible for him?”
He turned away, studied the carpet, smoked. “Can’t you get rid of it? I mean, isn’t that what we pay you for? To take care of this kind of thing?”
[…] Of course, I’d already suggested terminating the pregnancy. But coming from Samir, it sounded heartless. Is this how I’d sounded to my sister?
I looked down at my hands, rubbed them together. “I offered her my sachets, but she said no. She thinks Ravi is going to marry her.
“Rubbish! He knows better than that.”
“Does he?” I frowned at him. “As is the king so are his subjects.” As soon as I said the proverb, I knew it was true. There had been servant girls in Samir’s past, too.
Parvati! I'd served her. Pampered her. Fawned over her. I had handled Radha’s pregnancy as delicately as possible for the benefit of her family and mine. I hadn't created a scene. I hadn't demanded money. After all that, she was telling lies about me? In retaliation for my sister’s—and Ravi’s, don't forget!—folly! Her son was as much to blame—more, since he was older. But Parvati was taking it out on me.
It was so unfair! I tried to hold back my tears, but I failed. I've worked so hard, I wanted to tell Mrs. Sharma. I followed their rules. Swallowed their insults. Ignored their slights. Dodged their husbands’ wandering hands. Haven't I been punished enough?
Ravi Singh Quotes in The Henna Artist
I shook my head. “You think it's that easy? This house took thirteen years of hard work and Yes, Ji and No, Ji and Whatever you say, Ji. You'll never have to do that if you go to that school. You have many years in which to have a child, after you finish school. […] You can be something better than a henna artist. Better than me. You can have a meaningful life.” The water was almost boiling. “Just—please help me find the cotton root bark.”
Her voice trembled. “He said I was just another cheap pair of hands to you. Your business only took off after I arrived. You told me yourself you booked more appointments now because of my henna. If that's true, then why can't you trust me to think for myself? […] It doesn't matter how hard I work, how much I do. You'll never have faith in me!”
“You’re the one who let it happen.” He frowned. “She’s your sister.”
“And your son? Who’s responsible for him?”
He turned away, studied the carpet, smoked. “Can’t you get rid of it? I mean, isn’t that what we pay you for? To take care of this kind of thing?”
[…] Of course, I’d already suggested terminating the pregnancy. But coming from Samir, it sounded heartless. Is this how I’d sounded to my sister?
I looked down at my hands, rubbed them together. “I offered her my sachets, but she said no. She thinks Ravi is going to marry her.
“Rubbish! He knows better than that.”
“Does he?” I frowned at him. “As is the king so are his subjects.” As soon as I said the proverb, I knew it was true. There had been servant girls in Samir’s past, too.
Parvati! I'd served her. Pampered her. Fawned over her. I had handled Radha’s pregnancy as delicately as possible for the benefit of her family and mine. I hadn't created a scene. I hadn't demanded money. After all that, she was telling lies about me? In retaliation for my sister’s—and Ravi’s, don't forget!—folly! Her son was as much to blame—more, since he was older. But Parvati was taking it out on me.
It was so unfair! I tried to hold back my tears, but I failed. I've worked so hard, I wanted to tell Mrs. Sharma. I followed their rules. Swallowed their insults. Ignored their slights. Dodged their husbands’ wandering hands. Haven't I been punished enough?