‘They already thought of me as a savage or a pet. My grandmother adored her husband and was devastated by his death, but apart from my mother nobody tried to dissuade her. Her brother-in-law was only worried that if she did not go through with it she’d bring shame to the family.’
‘Why do women allow it?’
He shrugged. ‘A few still see it as the ultimate form of womanly devotion and sacrifice. She wanted to be with her husband in the next life, so for her it was the only way.’
‘But it’s a crime against women.’
He looked at her again, with such sadness in his eyes she longed to comfort him, but still she had to speak.
‘What if there is no next life, Jay?’
He sighed deeply but held her gaze.
‘Women are of so little value?’ she said.
‘Those who wish to becomesatispeak of it as a voluntary act of devotion. You and I might say they have been brainwashed. They have certainly internalized the old beliefs. The choice was to be burned or regarded as a failed wife.’
‘With no coercion?’
He snorted and finally looked away, and for a moment she felt as if a spell had been broken. ‘Oh yes. Priests who receive something of value from the women’s possessions encourage them. The relatives of both families who want their jewellery encourage them, and in some cases the women have to be drugged withbhang, marijuana to you, or opium. Or tied to the husband’s corpse with cords, or otherwise weighted down. However, even though life as a widow is hard, many did try to run away. And if they did they brought disgrace on their entire family.’
‘The pull of life stronger than family ties or any promise of immortality?’
‘Yes.’
‘But some truly believe. Like your grandmother?’
‘I think so. To some it is, and was, a deeply spiritual choice. Hard to understand, isn’t it? But it happens for many reasons, not always coercion or religion, and sometimes a depressed or despairing woman uses it as a means of straightforward suicide, which of course is illegal.’
‘It seems bound up with this idealized version of how a woman ought to be.’
‘It’s not so different in your culture, though less extreme of course.’
‘We don’t burn women.’ Despite the misery stamped on his face, she gave him what she realized must be a sharp look. ‘And female infanticide doesn’t happen in England.’
‘Not now maybe, but go back in time. Did you know that after the British outlawed suttee here there were more cases than before?’
She shook her head and there was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments.
‘What will you do?’
‘Tell Anish and then Chatur, both of whom will do nothing. And I’ll speak to Clifford Salter too. The British might chase up the culprits but they’ll get nowhere. The villagers will close ranks.’
‘But you could identify them.’
‘The British won’t take it that far. They know it still goes on.’
‘Why is it that all over the world women are, and have been, so badly mistreated?’ she said, feeling such a sense of anguish she hardly knew how to deal with it.
He shrugged. ‘It’s the age-old question. I don’t know the answer.’
Eliza became aware of how far out on the edge she could end up here, but, at the same time, if she was going to stay, she also felt a growing need not simply to judge India, but to better understand it.
Night lay over the garden like a blanket. She could see nothing, but listened to the creaking of branches and animals shifting in the undergrowth and hesitated for some minutes before she opened her mouth, scared that, if she made the wrong move or said the wrong thing, the foundations of her life might crack open. In Jay’s sad eyes, she saw herself, and because of that she wanted to give him something of herself. She had always believed that if she didn’t speak of her father she could protect herself, but she had been living behind glass that she realized might now be about to crack.
Eventually she broke the long silence and looked straight into his eyes. ‘My father died when I was ten,’ she said, as her heart began to hammer.
‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’
