Ganga purposely dropped a vessel on the floor to distract her children when she heard the ice-cream vendor hawking. He came every evening, shouting in a hoarse, practiced voice, ‘Ice-cream, tasty ice-cream…orange, vanilla, chocolate…ice-cream,’ he would say, stretching the word ice-cream as a way to lure children. Every day her children would watch the other village children crowding the ice-cream vendor’s bicycle, each thrusting a shiny one rupee coin in his face, eager to get a cone with their favorite flavor. Although Vimala and Harish never pestered Ganga for a cone, their long drawn faces told her everything.

‘What happened ma?’ Vimala enquired with utmost concern. She came in running, without knowing whether that scruffy Ramu got his chocolate flavor. He was so loud and impatient that the ice-cream vendor had brushed his arm away and had given him a stern look.    

‘Nothing dear. I was preparing rice cakes and chutney for the both of you and this vessel fell out of my hands,’ Ganga said with a slight smile.        

‘Oooh. I love rice cake and chutney,’ cried Harish, who had followed Vimala. He started jumping with joy.

Ganga filled a vessel with water, covered it with a plate and kept it on fire.

‘Is it ready mother?’ Vimala asked.

‘In a bit darling,’ Ganga replied, controlling herself. She turned towards the fire, so that Vimala didn’t see her face.

‘I am hungry ma,’ Harish cried in a weak voice. 

The water kept boiling, while Ganga pretended to cook it till her children fell asleep, hungry. She put the vessel aside and went out of the hut and wailed. When she came in, tears came screaming back to her eyes, when she saw her children licking their lips in sleep. Ganga drank a glass of water, but the cold liquid only made her stomach burn more with hunger. She’d been feeding her children water soaked stale bread for a week, including her share. Her children hadn’t had anything to eat since the bread had got over three days back. She didn’t have money to buy food. The local grocer had stopped giving her goods on credit and demanded the pending amount first before starting a new account. She sat in the damp corner of the hut, her knees drawn up to her chest, looking at her children’s shrinking stomachs.

 Her husband had gone to city to work at a construction site two months ago, and hadn’t returned since. There was no news from him. He’d said when he would come back, he would bring so much money that they wouldn’t have to worry about food for a whole year. Now she didn’t have enough to afford the next meal. She leant back on the mud wall and thought of what she was going to tell her children in the morning when they’d ask about the rice cakes. She didn’t realize that she had gone to sleep till the first rays of dawn entered the hut through the thatched window. She got up with a start. Vimala and Harish were still sleeping. She wanted to run away rather than having to face them.

 The first thing Harish asked when he woke up was, ‘Ma, can I have the rice cake now?’

 ‘Yes Ma. Please give it to us now ma,’ Vimala joined in.

 ‘You won’t believe what happened last night after you went to sleep,’ Ganga said with a fake-laugh.

 ‘What, what?’ Harish asked, suddenly not sleepy.

 ‘I prepared the rice cake and chutney and kept in a vessel for the both of you.’

 ‘Then?’ Harish asked impatiently.

 ‘Shhh,’ Vimala said. ‘You continue ma.’

 ‘A huge tiger came. This big,’ Ganga whispered, lifting both her palms up in the air, facing each other and drew them as far apart as she could. ‘It had huge paws and long whiskers. It growled wildly.’

 Harish and Vimala stared at their mother, their mouths wide open.

 ‘I said be quiet, my children are sleeping. Don’t disturb them. It said, ‘ “I am hungry. Give me food.” ’ I said, the rice cakes are for my children. It got angry and said, ‘ “I haven’t eaten for a week. Give me something or I will eat you.” ’ I said, no please don’t eat me; here take all the rice cakes.’

 ‘Really ma?’ Vimala and Harish asked in a chorus.  

 ‘Then what? Do you think I am lying? I was so scared that I started crying,’ Ganga said and then started crying, unable to control herself.   

 Ganga wept and kept weeping when Harish said, ‘ok, ok ma. Then what happened?’

 But Ganga couldn’t stop. Vimala wiped her mother’s tears and said, ‘It is ok ma. We are not hungry now. Isn’t Harish?’

 ‘No, I am,’ Harish replied.

 ‘Hari,’ Vimala said, under her breath.

 ‘No, I am not,’ he said, finally getting the hint. 

 Ganga pressed both her children to her chest and kissed the top of their heads. She sent her kids out to play in the verandah and went to her neighbor, Kundanlal’s home. She still remembered what he’d said when she’d gone to borrow a cup of milk once.

 ‘Come when my wife is not around and I will give you whatever you want.’ He’d pointed towards his bulge from the top of his torn dhoti and laughed.

 She came home with enough money to last her a week. For the first time in days, her children went to bed with their stomach full of food. Kundanlal had said she could come anytime and he would give her more money for her favors.  

 The next morning her husband arrived, with money, as he’d promised. The children jumped on him with glee. They pestered him to open all the gifts he was carrying in his hands.

 ‘No, not this one. This one is for your mother,’ he said and opened a pack carrying a bright, red sari with golden embroidery. When he tried to put the sari across Ganga’s head, she said, ‘Why didn’t you say you were coming?’ Her voice was shaky.

 ‘I did. I met Kundanlal in the city last week. I’d told him to tell you. Didn’t he?’ Her husband asked.

 ‘You are late,’ she said.

 ‘Late for what?’ he said.

 ‘Late by a whole day.’ She sunk to the floor.

 ‘What are you talking about? Are you alright?’ He bent over and placed his hand under her chin.

 ‘Nevermind. Just take the kids to the fair. They’ve been waiting to go for a month.’

 ‘OK. Let’s talk when I come back,’ he said.

 ‘OK,’ she said.

 When her husband and kids came back, he only found a note.

 I am leaving. I am not Ganga anymore.

 He couldn’t understand what she could possibly mean by the statement. He tried looking for her everywhere, even in the neighboring cities. He never found her. He often reminisced about the time when he’d first met her. He still remembered the way she’d introduced herself.

 ‘I am Ganga,’ she’d said proudly.

 ‘That’s a very nice name,’ he’d said.

 ‘Yes. I know. It’s the most pious river in the world.’