Beggar's Feast
“The others would give way no more than the span of her fine white shoulders and immediately close when she passed, before he could step into her forward wake. So much for revolution, he thought. Still, even following behind her, he was impressed, envious that she did not have to push through as he had had to everywhere he had come and gone. He was also certain they would find no one from Sudugama because they, the hundreds upon hundreds of gathered villagers, looked each and every one the same:... the same round brown faces made darker by day upon day in the sun-beat fields, too dark to look or feel worthy of any greater life than another day in the same field unto death and the same for their children’s children; faces that seemed near-black as good dirt against the white clothes they had worn to come here, let alone against the whites of their eyes or their bent chipped teeth those rare times they looked back at you or spoke in your presence, because otherwise these were faces that had been made constant in their downward glances by year upon year of working those sun-beat fields, and by generations of respect for the rock-face logic of blood and stars and caste, a marrow respect for those who were born of the merit of past lives into lives set above their own, whose fields they had come into this latest life to work.MoreLess
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