Mommy had dark-stained eyes and I could always tell when she was angry or unhappy by looking into them. Whenever I asked mommy for anything, I could tell if she was going to let me by the way she looked at me. Like the first time mommy allowed me to go over to Sabina's house to play. Her eyes closed right at the ends which meant that she it was a definite no, but then just as I was about to say, "Please," she rolled them which meant that even though she didn't approve of it she was going to let me.
"Behave yourself," mommy said as she tugged my hand like she was not done and so I turned around. Mommy wasn't done, she made me look into her piercing eyes. With every move and wrinkle I could tell what she wanted.
"Okay," I said and ran out the back door. This was the first time mommy had allowed me to go over to Sabina's house. It was different from playing house with Gulu because I got to do rowdy things like chase the two boys around the house, and climb up Mr. Vora's banyan tree. After we played in the backyard for hours Sabina’s mother called us inside and offered us biscuits. She came up to me and I said, "No thank you, mommy will be angry." I said this even though I really wanted one because I knew that from our eye-to-eye conversation mommy wanted me to come home and eat dinner.
Food was always a problem, because I never liked mommy's food, and so everyday for breakfast lunch and dinner, mommy would mesh the food up into a big lump and place her watch in front of me. She showed me the mark on its face, and where, when the long hand reached that point, my time was up, and the food had to be gone. I always hated eating meals.
Sabina’s mother could see it in my eyes. "If your mommy tells you anything tell her that I forced you to and that it was all my fault. Okay, Beti ." I enjoyed that butter biscuit, even though there were plenty of them lying around at home. There was something special about Sabina's mother's voice, and the way she called me, "Beti." The way she held me against her warm breasts and caressed my hair like it was silk. I felt a warm sensation like Sabina's mother was a lamp.
While I sat there staring out the open door into the playground, Sabina’s mother asked me to join her in the bedroom where she breast fed her young son, Soheb, and knitted. She gently gazed into my eyes and said, "I want to put kajal (black eyeliner) in your eyes. You have the most beautiful eyes in the world. They are in the shape of diwals (oil lamps made of clay) and almonds. . . Come here." I went towards Sabina's mother and she removed her young son and let me lay in her lap. She bent down, rubbed her index finger into the tiny kajal tin and started applying it to my eyes. It tingled like falling rain drops and felt cool like the morning dew. Tears rolled down my eyes, because I was not used to the kajal and everything else. "Don’t cry," she whispered. "Go look into the mirror," and I did. Somehow her words and this little bit of kajal had transformed me.
"My eyes don’t look like bus lights anymore," I said. I was really excited, and I asked for permission to leave. Before I went home I went to Gulu’s and Shahina’s house to show them what Sabina’s mother had done to my eyes.
"Look at Priscilla’s eyes," Ami said. "She looks so beautiful and old. Anybody will marry you now with those beautiful eyes of yours." After my short visits I went home. I knocked on the door, and mommy let me in. The very instant she looked at my face her eyes grew. This only happened when she was very angry.
"What is that in your eye, Priscilla? Who did that to you?"
"Sabina’s mother put kajal in my eyes. She said it was good for my eyes because it had ghee (clarified butter)."
"Go right into the bathroom and wash that stuff off. We are Christians, and we do not need artificial beauty. Our God-given beauty is enough. Don’t you ever wear any makeup. Do you hear me?" I went right into the bathroom as mommy demanded and washed my face with the cold water that the monsoons had brought. I splashed it onto my face and undid everything that Sabina’s mother had done. It was all gone I thought, but as I looked into the mirror a trace of it was still left and it softly darkened my eyes as I opened them to the world. And I remembered Sabina's mother's words, "Your eyes are in the shape of diwals that we light at night."