““Now that you are no longer a virgin,” she says, “I cannot fetch a good price for you.” I cannot believe my ears. “So I can go now?” I say. Mumtaz spits. “You did not come easily,” she says. “You cannot easily go.” I don’t understand. “You can go home …” She pauses, picks a fleck of betel leaf off her tongue,examines it. I try to slow the pounding of my heart at the mention of the word “home.” Mumtaz flicks the bit of leaf into the air and continues. “… as soon as you’ve worked off the twenty t...housand rupees I paid for you.” “But—” I have seen her record book, with its entry of 10,000 rupees. I know this 20,000 price is a lie. Somehow, of all the things that have been done to me, this—this outrage—is the worst. I haven’t cried, not one tear, since that first night with the fish-lips man. But now tears surge up in my eyes. I blink them back and lift my chin. “But what?” she says. She pulls the leather strap out from under her skirt and slaps it against her open palm.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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