But Mumtaz did not seem to know how terrible it was. She sang to the bird and the bird made her laugh. 'You make me laugh,' she told it and the bird laughed back. They played a game with a small rubber ball. Mumtaz threw it and the bird caught it in its beak.

'It will fly away,' said Amma, grinding the spices and testing her teeth against her lip. Her toes curled into the soft mud floor of the yard. From the shade of the pomegranate tree she withstood a few minutes more of her luckless life. She shouted at the servant boy because the yard was not properly swept and she shouted at the new widow (a relative taken in but a lesser relative who was suffered as long as she served) because the fire was not properly set. Groaning, she continued to grind.

'You're bad,' the bird told Nazneen one day. 'Go away.' Obedient, she went.

Everyone laughed and Nazneen made up her mind to return and join the laughter but her legs still carried her forward. She went to the edge of the village and looked across the fields, the river; watched a sampan with its ragged sail lazy in the still air, the boatman unconcerned on his haunches. When the smoke began to rise from the mound of the furthest village, the thought of dinner pulled her home. Mumtaz said, 'Well, my serious friend. Still glad you came back to life?'

The bird did not fly away. Someone taught it a bad word. Amma was furious. Abba laughed and said, 'Naturally she is upset. She comes from a family of saints.' He went away for a few days and when he returned there was a bounce in his step. The bird learned another bad word. It called out to everyone that passed and it had a new laugh, a chuckle at the back of its throat, and when Abba laughed as well they sounded like brothers.

A table had been brought out into the big yard. Stools set around. The women kept to their quarters and the men chewed their pipes. Nazneen and Hasina watched the elders arrive and take their seats. Hasina pulled on her imaginary beard and coughed and spat. Nazneen thumped her on the arm. Abba began to speak and the men sucked with all their strength on the hookahs and cups of steaming tea. Abba finished and another man began to speak, another joined in and another until soon they all struggled to be heard. A scream from the women's quarters scattered their words like a handful of seed; they fell and were lost and if anything grew from them it would be later. For now it was quiet, and Abba rose and walked quickly across the yard and Nazneen and Hasina darted around the back so that from different directions they reached Mumtaz at the same time. She held the bird, on its back, in the palm of her hand and she stroked its black chest. They went closer and they saw the way the head hung down. It was certain now. It would not fly away.

She woke from the dream and looked at her husband's face, squashed against the pillow. Her legs were involved with his and she reclaimed them. Then she went to the sitting room and began to sew. After a short time the machine was idle and she only sat.

A heap of sequined vests lay to the side. She had put zips in three of them. She picked one up and held it out. The little plastic discs caught the light, wavering between pink and white. She took it to the bathroom and locked the door, unbuttoned her nightdress and removed her arms from the sleeves, tied the sleeves around her waist. The zip went at the back and it was difficult to do it up, but she managed. She looked in the mirror and looked away quickly. In the cabinet she found a band for her hair and piled it on top of her head. Facing her reflection once again she saw that her breasts looked flat. She put her hand inside the top and pulled her left breast up and then the right one so that they sat together at the sequined neckline and made a deep valley between them. She looked in the mirror but she did not see herself, only the flare of the sequins, and then she closed her eyes and the ice smelled of limes and she moved without weight and there was someone at her side, her hand in another, and they turned together, arms around waists, and through her half-closed lashes she saw him. The fine gold chain about his neck. And then she opened her eyes and took off the top. She held it out again and she saw that the sequins were cheap. She turned it over in her hands. The sequins looked like fish scales.

DHANMONDI, DHAKA.

January 2001

Bismillahir rahmanir rahim.

How much I have to praise for Him! How much He have given me! All times 1 making mistakes, all times I going off from straight Path and He is giving chance again and then again. Here is for me another chance.

They took me from House of Falling Women is destitute hostel in Hazaribagh under wing of Brother Andrew who has come here from Canada for saving us. Friend of Lovely have take another woman out from there and Lovely say 'She is not only charitable lady in whole of Dhaka. Let us take one too.' That is how she say to husband James.

In actual fact husband name is Jamshed Rashid but everyone calling James. Lovely have name Anwara Begum but nobody call her like this. Everyone call Lovely even own children.

House in Dhanmondi. Good good place and house too good also. Downstair big room with plenty wood furniture television video machine. Special wood the furniture you never see like this how much it glow. This room know as reception room. Little room full toys and books is playroom. Is one whole entire room for children for play. Bathroom downstair and kitchen beside. My room is next kitchen. It have electric light.

Upstair is room for Lovely and James. Is call master bedroom. The boy name Jimmy. He have next big room. The baby name Daisy. She have own room all for she. Other bedroom have name guest room. Every day I go inside and turn down sheet for the bed is airing. Lovely say 'In good household the guest bed is always properly air.' Every evening I must keep to my mind to pull sheet again up.

Oh sister He has not turned His face from me. All the mistakes I make. Here I am in spite even so.

Street is wide and nice. But plastic bag blowing everywhere. Walk in street for five ten minute and by finish you cover in bag on legs and arms and stomach. Everyone hate the bag but also all accepting what can you do? Like as if Allah making mosquito and plastic bag equal-equal for being in this world.

End of street it go narrow and here one or two shop and also rickshaw workshop. You see them painting back panels and also on baby taxi. I like to watch. Most often is painting Taj Mahal or mosque but also is peacock tiger elephant and film star. One is painting picture for face of woman and I stop and ask. It face belong to singer in USA country she call Britainy Spear. Very beautiful she too. But when I find self there go slow and stop then I bring to mind that I must hurry and do errand for Lovely. How many time He bring me luck again? No I must hurry always.

My duty in house is for care the children cleaning wash plate wash clothes shopping and errand and thing. That is all. There is man for cooking and he also take heavy work in garden and I only do is bit watering weeding and grow some special few vegetable behind house. You see how is. Very good position.

Sister I waiting for your letter and praying. But maybe since long time you have move and these words stay words as they do not go into you and it my love only that reach somehow to you. Wherever you are still it come and it find you always.

Hasina February

I have your letter. All others are lost. Gone in that time I hold on to nothing. I have your letter. So much I want from it that I feel to eat it and make part of me. But then too it gone to look at.

The girls are pride to you. Tell them auntie send love and never forget. You say you husband teach to them poetry. How it cause trouble? Good man for him to do this task. We never have teaching and learning this things but somehow it always there tangling up with us. It stay in the bone. You say nothing have change. Something saying you sad about it. But sister count your blessing. This unchanging of thing it is number one blessing. And the doctor still come to eat at your home. How I like to think of it. My sister giving food to doctor! Husband have big job now after this time I think. Entertaining with doctor. This is Lovely word for it.

She is very much love to entertaining. It in her own nature to give dinner and party no matter what how tired it make. Only few short years gone Lovely is Miss Comilla in Regional Beauty Pageant. She for certain sure have been Miss Bangladesh but marriage come in the way and stopping it all. She say 'I go around the world but for my James. So much he love me he cannot wait. It sweet really. He so sweet.'

Sometime she come in playroom and lie on couch. Children jumping on top and putting little arm round the neck. Darlings (is how she call them) thats very sweet but look at all your lovely toys. It true. If you try to count how many you running out of numbers before you running out of toys.

Jimmy is three and one half year old and he goes like bluebottle in jar. Most time he playing army game and like to give blow on arm and leg. Only toy he pick up is gun and sword. Very full energy this boy. When he tire out he drop down anywhere and I carry to bed. Baby Daisy is just start walk. Now she follow around me like baby duck and she never let out from sight or else begin the squawking. One time Lovely pick up and take outside but she bring back and say I dont know what is wrong with this girl. At first Daisy missing old maid who go away due to cheating of shopping money. But now she is all right with me. When Lovely take the children to go for visit she put sweet in baby mouth and that keep sound from coming.

I doing well in duty. Lovely say Oh you have saved my life you are an angel. She is nice kind lady. 'I will speak to James for building extension. Proper servant quarter. This house is so small.' I not sleep in my room at present time. Baby Daisy is start to wake in night and from my room is too hard for hear. Few nights sleeping on landing but husband is tripping over and stubbing toe on head. So I take bedroll and sleep on baby room floor. Is better in actual fact than own room. Now if I turn over in night I not hitting against door. And there is window for air too. Is nice room. Zaid (the cook) have put rice sacks and flour sacks in my room all on top of my things and I did must speak to him. 'Room?' he say. 'What room? I see cupboard. I see shelf. I dont see any bloody room.' Zaid sleep in kitchen on table. That if he here at night. Many night he go away and not come back until morning late. 'Do you think he has woman?' say Lovely. 'Do you think he is going to leave us? He could get job anywhere. His kichuri is famous whole length of the Buriganga. Somebody have poached him. I know it. I know it.'

It not simple thing to run household. Sometime I feel Lovely got too many things weigh down on her.

April

Both children is now sleep afternoon time is how I sit down with pen for you. Many days children is sleep different time and then it keep me busy busy for all day Baby Daisy get up early maybe five and half past five. Brother is later get up and very late in evening go to the bed. When I lie down at night my head touching to ground and two three seconds sleep come. Yesterday Lovely have party for twelve people guest. Zaid spin around kitchen so fast it look like Sufi in there dancing spinning. Children too more excited with all guest and present and sweet. It take long time to calm. Then after is washing and clearing. Zaid watch me for some time. Then he say 'My time is coming.' And he go out.

Lovely just now come here look for childrens. She see me with pen and I jump up but she tell me be calm. I tell her about you sister. Lovely is say how sweet. That is kind of lady. No word of anger pass through the lip. She sit with me and discuss. She wear robe colour like ripe peach not yet dress because of late entertaining. Hair all way hang down back too beautiful. You have see this Britainy Spear? That more less how Lovely look. Rickshaw workshop make more carriage paint with this singer picture. It too surprising to me sometime how much like Bangla girl she look have long black hair and black eye.

Lovely do face exercise. One time judge in Regional Beauty Pageant tell chin is weak. Every day she do face exercise for strengthen though it look plenty strong for eat talk everything. When she finish she say 'You know we live in capital city but really is so provincial.' Then she tell me about big fashion show is call BATEXPO. This is meaning Bangladesh apparel and textile show. She sighing like she seen a piece of heaven. Show at Pan Pacific Sonargaon Hotel. Is very smart place and almost is not provincial. How she made it sound! She show me how the models walk and say this walk come natural to her in spite some model have struggle with it. Very wonderful way she move with hand on hip like she melting and you can tip over and pour out. Some famous model there. Miss India there. She famous for world over. Lovely describe me all clothes food drink dance music. Have you hear song Barbie Girl? Is everyone favourite song.

Lovely sit down with me for all this discuss. She ask 'Will you tell me something and swear to tell truth?' I say I will never tell lie to you who is giving this roof for head. 'Do you think Betty is more beautiful than me?' Her face come all serious. Betty is friend of her and she was Miss Chittagong 1997. I tell her no and it true for Lovely is more beautiful in my eye. She look a little pleased. 'I hear it said many time that Betty is more beautiful than Miss Beautiful Smile.' Then she explain about Miss Beautiful Smile who is daughter of Government Minister. Oh it is too too shame when that girl say she will become lawyer and help destitute women and all the photographer and reporter gather round to her and hang on to words when what she ever done at all for destitute woman and doesnt Lovely have destitute living right here in home with her. I say too it shame. Lovely think that girl only so high up in Beauty Pageant because of father name. I agree to her. Then she tell me television camera came for take film of BATEXPO. Indian fashion designer there speak into camera and it her opinion recorded in film that people of Bangladesh should be more fashion aware. Lovely sigh and say how you expect it in place where even capital city provincial like hell.

She speak to me many often and explain me her problems. If I sweeping floor then Baby Daisy hanging onto leg Jimmy running round diving in dirt pile and Lovely time to time sit on chair and tell to me. Betty is best friend and she have everything it seem all come to her no effort at all. This is instance husband James have driver and sometimes driver come for Lovely and take around. But driver is come with job and not always time available for Lovely. Betty ask to her husband for car and driver and get it straight away no question is asking. Lovely is still wait for own driver. Also this house is not so big house in this street many house too much bigger. Betty house bigger than this house. Beside Lovely must manage house and children with one maid only and one cook. Husband James say no need of ayah as well maid. But in actual fact Lovely need ayah too also. And she is expect spend much time for Charity working and for party which is important for husband position and job.

James have job with company is call Bangla National Plastics. Sound like big big company but in an actual fact is only medium size of company. Lovely say 'It sounds so much like big company.' A few times she say this. Very much she loving husband James and this also cause for sad in her as he must work many hour away from home. This man I know him by knee alone. When he at home he push chair away from table and sit with leg cross with face inside papers. Even he eat a meal many time and face inside paper. Always I see his knee. If he passing me I washing floor or playing with baby and keep the eye low at the knee height. Every crease of trouser I have learn.

Lovely say there is difficult thing come in job. Two years now waiting on court case to clear Bangla National Plastic name. Also there is talk of ban the plastic bags. Lovely say 'When they see us on the street then they will be happy.' She really have care on her head.

In spite and even so most times she is good high spirit especially at party when you hear her laugh so nice to everyone. One day she tell me 'I missed my chances in life Hasina.' No dont talk like that is what I say to my mistress. Allah always will give another chance. He give to me and He give to you. She just smile at me and say how sweet you are.

She worry the cook up and leave for other job in house with real servant quarter. He is very expert cook and always his food admire by guest and friend. But I think Zaid will stay. He come and go in any case as he please. Miss the breakfast the lunch sometime he even miss cook the dinner. Lovely just say Oh you here and will you trouble to make some of your wonderful niramish for evening meal?

He is strange man. Always practise his kung fu move kick leg shoot arm chop hand even while he cooking. He small hard man like made of wire with little skin on top. No soft anywhere can crack nut in between the toe. When Lovely go out he watch the kung fu movie on video machine. Jimmy watching with him only time the boy come still. At night often Zaid going out. He say for few next month he must go out because election coming and his time is coming. Which is party you support I ask but he does not say. Maybe BNP maybe AL maybe Jamaat-e-Islami is how he tells. In morning time he has fresh cut or bruise but he do not say anything and I do not ask. Jimmy run at him with little arms going round like fans and shout KILL DIE KILL KILL KILL. They doing kung fu together. Bedtime now the boy give to me kiss and hug. Baby Daisy always want her face to me and she sit on my hip all day if only no work to do. When she smile she put her head back and show all her teeth. All my life I look for one thing only for love for giving and getting and it seem such a thing full of danger can eat you alive and now I stop the looking it come right up to me and show all it tiny little teeth.

Razia came when she was reading Hasina's letters. She had read them many times already so that now the words were in her mind even before her eyes moved over them.

Nazneen hid the letters under the cotton spools.

Razia fanned herself with a book. She wore the Union Jack top over salwaar pants. The loose folds of material in the trousers made her backside appear enormous. The trousers were designed to be worn with a long top and it was too hot to be wearing a sweatshirt.

'These bloody health inspectors,' said Razia. 'Closed the bloody factory down. Came with an interpreter and went around asking stupid questions. "Is it always hot in here?" I told them, "No. In winter you have to take a chisel and knock off the ice between your toes." And they wrote it all down in their stupid book.'

'How long will it be closed?'

Razia took off her glasses. 'At least it gives my eyes a rest.' She blinked hard. She picked up one of the glittery vests.

'Shefali tried to go out of the house wearing some little thing like this. I told her no way.' She replaced her glasses and rolled her eyes. 'Daughters! They are trouble.'

'How is Tariq?'

'Sons!' said Razia. She put the vest down and lit up a Silk Cut. 'They say they are closing the factory for Health and Safety, but everyone thinks it is something else. The people who came are from Immigration. But I have my passport. I said I would bring my passport but they didn't want to know.' She pulled at her top. 'British citizen. Nothing to hide.'

She fanned herself again and waved her cigarette at Nazneen. 'This top is too hot. Too hot.'

'Yes. It looks hot.'

Razia sighed. 'But I must wear it, from time to time. I hear what they are saying. Razia is a little touched. Crazy, crazy.' She clucked a little and made some crooning noises. ' "Razia is so English. She is getting like the Queen herself."'

'They always talk.' Yesterday, Nazma whose brother-in-law had turned up unexpectedly had popped round to borrow a pinch of saffron. She rolled into the sitting room holding up her hands. Can't stay, she said, can't stay; ready to fend off any onslaught of hospitality. But she stayed long enough to drop a few hints about Razia. 'Do you know? The woman smokes!'

'Let them talk,' said Razia. 'If I stop wearing this now, they are going to think I listen to them.'

'If they have the time, let them gossip.'

'Come on,' said Razia. 'Let me help you. Or I will go crazy, crazy with all this sitting around. I'll do five zips for one cup of tea.'

Nazneen drank her tea and watched her friend. Through the open window drifted wafts of music and snatches of curry. It was the shift work. Main meals were cooked at all times of day or night. There was nothing to anchor them. Voices were raised in the courtyard and she looked out at a group of Bengali lads. One was kneeling next to a large pile of leaflets, which he was dividing into smaller piles. As she turned back she thought that one might be Karim, but she forced herself not to look again.

'They don't have jobs,' said Razia. 'They don't study and they don't have jobs.'

'You are lucky with your son.'

'OK-Ma, I am lucky. But I wish he would go out sometimes and make a few friends. I told him to go to mosque and make friends but he wouldn't go.'

'What about college? He has friends there?'

Razia considered. 'Yes, that must be true.'

They both listened to the sewing machine. Nazneen thought of Hasina. She thought of Hasina in the garment factory, how happy she had been. Her stepmother came into her mind, a young woman with a large nose ring, thick gold bands on her ankles. She came to the compound and she slept in Abba's sleeping quarters. She came suddenly and she went, and no more was ever said of her. She left no impression other than a young woman with a jewelled nose ring and gold ankle bracelets. Where did she go? Where was she sent? How long before the bracelets were melted down and spent? How long before she came to be where Hasina had also been?

Nazneen pushed her thumbs into her temples. Her mind was becoming too loose again, tramping this way and that without discipline. Under her breath she began to recite the Opening.

Praise be to God, Lord of the Universe, the Compassionate, the Merciful, Sovereign of the Day of Judgement! You alone we worship, and to You alone we turn for help. Guide us to the straight path . . .

And show us where it leads, she said to herself.

'What?' said Razia.

Nazneen fiddled with her teacup. She wondered if they would take teacups with them to Dhaka, or whether they would be left behind.

Razia finished the last zip and drank her tea though it was nearly cold. 'I have to go back to work. The children need money. Tariq is going hysterical. This morning he did not even get out of bed. He needs money for books or he will fail the exam.'

'When did the factory close?'

'Three days ago. Not long, but Tariq is so anxious. I will have to break in myself if they don't open it. Or go to see Mrs Islam.'

Nazneen put the cup to her lips and tipped it to cover her face. It was empty. She repeated the action. But Razia, she saw now, was not hinting at anything. She did not know about Chanu's 'little arrangement' with Mrs Islam. And Nazneen, complicit in the sin, would not tell. Razia rubbed at her hip and adopted a feeble voice. 'Just bury me now. I am as good as dead.'

Nazneen laughed. 'Don't worry. Benylin Chesty Coughs can cure anything.'

Razia barked. 'When I was a girl, we gave respect to our elders.' She became feeble again. 'But I am practically dead. Take your fun. Take anything you want. Take my hip. I leave you my Ralgex.'

Nazneen snorted but Razia became thoughtful. 'We are always thinking: how does this woman come so high? Do you think that those who come so high think about us: how do they stay so low?' She worked her big shoulders. 'But we already know about her. It is just hard to believe.'

She had been the day before. She came with her sons and Chanu jumped around the room as though it were scattered with nails. He counted out the money loudly, and had got to seventy-five when Mrs Islam raised a spotted handkerchief and let it float onto the mighty ruin of her chest. One son undid the bag. The other said, 'Put it in.' Chanu put the rest of the notes back inside the showcase. The sons helped her to the door. One of them was trusted sufficiently to carry the Ralgex.

'How much are we paying?' said Nazneen.

'It's between friends,' said Chanu. 'She is doing me a favour. I knew her husband.'

Karim came the next morning to collect the vests. Before they had exchanged two words his telephone started up. He parked himself in the hallway. Nazneen saw him lean against the wall with one trainer pressed flat against the skirting board. She returned to the sitting room but did not know whether to stand or to sit. When he came in she made herself busy with folding.

'My father,' he said. He snapped the phone shut and holstered it.

She glanced at him. His hair stood up at the front, tiny short black feathers.

'He's always calling the mobile. I tell him not to waste money like that. He doesn't listen.' He flexed his leg, testing that it still worked. 'And what's he ringing up for anyway? Hasn't got anything to say to me, man.'

'He is worrying. Perhaps.'

'Yeah, man. Worrying and nerves. Out of his mind with worrying and nerves.'

Nazneen sat. She folded her hands in her lap. She smoothed the soft blue fabric of her sari and folded her hands again. She had once more forgotten to cover her hair.

Karim sat on the arm of the sofa. She did not know what she could say so she said nothing. Karim sat on the place where Chanu rested his head. The plastic sheaths had long gone and hair oil made the fabric shiny. She had thought the phone calls were about work, or other things that she could not imagine that belonged to the world out there and which she would never understand. They were from his father and that brought him a little step nearer her world. Still, she could think of nothing to say.