French Lover (31 page)

Nearly four thousand years ago the fair Aryans came from Central Asia and drove the dark Dravidians further to the south of India. They sang in praise of the fair, who were better and the dark worse, the fair were the masters and the dark the slaves, fair was greater, the higher caste, that was their society, their faith. It was a conviction embedded deep in their blood. Two hundred years of British rule had strengthened that belief: white was better, more learned, the masters. Nila’s blood had also carried that belief, every brain cell felt it and even if she tried to shake it all away, a little bit remained somewhere. She knew it wasn’t easy getting rid of that tiny bit, but she was happy to have achieved it finally.

Four, she called Morounis and asked her to send someone to help her get the house in order.

A Philipino girl, Marilu, who charged fifty francs an hour, came to her house that same evening. She put the broken junk into large bags and threw it in the garbage outside. It took her about three hours to get the work done.

Then Nila made Marilu sit down and heard the story of her life.

Marilu had come from the Philippines to this city six years ago. She had other relatives in this city and they were the ones who had helped her come here. She was a student in the university of Manila. Her subject was sociology. She quit her studies, her homeland and
came to France. Since then she had worked as a cleaning lady and earned money. Many of her relatives worked in garment factories. Marilu was learning tailoring in Sandani, at her relative’s place. Very soon she’d get into a factory too.

Nila asked, ‘Can I get a small, cheap room in Sandani to rent?’

‘Sure.’

But Marilu warned Nila that Sandani was not a good locality.

‘How bad is it?’

‘People are unemployed, there’s robbery, theft, drugs, murder; it is chock full of black people.’

‘Look at my skin—is it very white? In a way it’s black. Is it only the unemployed people who rob and steal? Those who have jobs, get fat salaries, don’t they steal? So what if it is chock full of black people. Don’t the white people do drugs? Murder? Tell me, is there a good place on this earth? Where would you say there is total safety? Aren’t there addicts in Manila? Robbers, murderers? There is poverty, sorrow and superstition there, as it is here. This country has racism, so does India. Women are raped in Calcutta, and it’s the same here. This Rue de Vouyere, where only white people stay, do you think murders never happen here? Of course they do. One could have happened just today!’

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First published in Bengali by Ananda Publishers Pvt. Ltd 2001
First published in English by Penguin Books India 2002

Copyright © Taslima Nasrin 2001
This translation copyright © Penguin Books India 2002

Picture courtesy TACFAB

Cover photograph by Ashish Chawla

Cover design by Kavita Dutta

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-01-4302-810-9

This digital edition published in 2013.
e-ISBN: 978-93-5118-004-3

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the auther’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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