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Parvati Singh
Samir Singh, husband to Parvati and father to Ravi, is one of the most prominent and wealthy architects in Jaipur. He is also the person who introduced Lakshmi to Jaipur society; the two met when Samir frequented the “pleasure houses” (elite brothels) in Agra, and once Samir learned about Lakshmi’s contraceptive sachets, he encouraged her to move to Jaipur. At the start of The Henna Artist, Samir and Lakshmi share both a deep friendship and a not-so-harmless flirtation. Over the course of the novel, however, Lakshmi begins to learn about a darker side of Samir: this is also a man who betrays his wife consistently (including, once, with Lakshmi) and who shows no care or concern for the various women he and his son abandon. Ultimately, Lakshmi realizes that much of Samir’s effortless charm stems from his ability to sweep his mistakes under the rug: as Lakshmi says, “there had been servant girls in Samir’s past, too.” But even as she distances herself from Samir, she acknowledges how deeply he has shaped her life and that their complicated friendship is not something she will ever forget.
Samir Singh Quotes in The Henna Artist
The The Henna Artist quotes below are all either spoken by Samir Singh or refer to Samir Singh . For each quote, you can also see the other characters and themes related to it (each theme is indicated by its own dot and icon, like this one:
).
Chapter 13
Quotes
“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.
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I rose from the bench, consumed with loathing for him and for myself. What light work I had made of infidelity, for him and his friends to cheat on their wives for ten years! I'd helped them discard their mistresses’ pregnancies as easily as they discarded the lint in their trouser pockets. I had justified it by treating it as a business transaction. To me each sale had been nothing more than another coat of plaster or another section of terrazzo for my house. At least when I made sachets for the courtesans, I had done so for women who had been raised to be prostitutes, who needed to make a living from their bodies without the interruption of pregnancies.
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Samir Singh Quotes in The Henna Artist
The The Henna Artist quotes below are all either spoken by Samir Singh or refer to Samir Singh . For each quote, you can also see the other characters and themes related to it (each theme is indicated by its own dot and icon, like this one:
).
Chapter 13
Quotes
“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.
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Explanation and Analysis:
I rose from the bench, consumed with loathing for him and for myself. What light work I had made of infidelity, for him and his friends to cheat on their wives for ten years! I'd helped them discard their mistresses’ pregnancies as easily as they discarded the lint in their trouser pockets. I had justified it by treating it as a business transaction. To me each sale had been nothing more than another coat of plaster or another section of terrazzo for my house. At least when I made sachets for the courtesans, I had done so for women who had been raised to be prostitutes, who needed to make a living from their bodies without the interruption of pregnancies.
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