Harvest

OM: You think I did it lightly. You think it's a heavy price. But at the cost of calling you my sister... we'll be rich ! Very rich! Insanely rich! What're you saying? ( he gets up to wash his hands and mouth at the kitchen sink, stopping to make his point along the way ) But you'd rather live in this one small room, I suppose! Think it's such a fine thing( washes his mouth, spits ) living day in, day out, like monkeys in a hot-case( washes mouth again and spits again, wipes face, mouth ) lulled to sleep by our neighbours' rhythmic farting! Dancing to the tune of the melodious traffic! And starving. Yes—you'd prefer this to being called my sister on a stupid slip of paper no-one we know will ever see!

MA: Why fight over what is finished? Tell me about this rich foreigner, your employer! Who is he? Why does he love you so much? That's what I don't understand—where did he meet you?

JAYA: ( half-sob/laugh ) Ohh—just tell her, tell her!

OM: ( coming back to centerstage ) We've never met, Ma....

MA: What!

OM: He's rich—and old. That's all I know about him. Probably suffering from some illness...

MA: Then why's he paying you so much!

JAYA: Oh Ma!—don't you see it? Isn't it obvious?

MA: ( to Jaya ) You're so smart that you can hear the Holy Father himself thinking but I, I need to hear with my ears—( turns to Om ) Tell me, my son—

OM: ( Irritated ) Oh, you won't understand, Ma—

JAYA: I'll tell you! He's sold the rights to his organs! His skin. His eyes. His arse. ( sobs again ) Sold them! ( holds her head ) Oh God, oh God! What's the meaning of this nightmare! ( sobs. To Om ) How can I hold your hand, touch your face, knowing that at any moment it might be snatched away from me and flung across the globe! ( sobs ) If you were dead I could shave my head and break my bangles—but this? To be a widow by slow degrees? To mourn you piece by piece? ( sobs ) Should I shave half my head? Break my bangles one at a time? (succumbs to her tears)

MA: ( only half-comprehending. Turns to Om who stands with his back to the women ) How is it possible?

OM: ( looking up at Jaya ) If you weren't so busy feeling sorry for yourself, you'd have read what they say about respecting the donor—

JAYA: ( bitterly ) Of course! They bathe him in praise while gutting him like a chicken!

MA: But why must they come to us?

OM: See? ( holds up a pamphlet ) Look? In this paper it says that one third of all donors are left absolutely intact!

MA: Don't they have enough of their own people?

JAYA: And where does that leave you? Two thirds a man? Half a wit?

OM: ( to Ma, distractedly ) They don't have people to spare.

JAYA: And we do, of course. Spare lives! We grow on trees, in the bushes! What are we, teacher? Oh just some spare lives!

MA: ( uncertainly ) Well. So long as they don't hurt you...

At this moment, a loud tone sounds.

All three react, looking immediately at the globe.

MA: Hai! What's that sound! I must wash my hands! ( she gets up ) The polygon flickers to life. Each face displays one view of a young woman's face, unmistakably blonde and white-skinned. She is beautiful in a clear-eyed, unequivocal manner, exuding a youthful innocence and radiant purity.

MA: ( she sees the globe head-on ) Ahhh! Who is this angel?

The room fills abruptly with the pip of an international phone call about to commence. There is a cracking sound and an audible pause.

GINNI:... hello? Hello?

OM: ( steps forward self-consciously ) Yes!

GINNI: I see you! —oh, my Gad! I see you! Is that really you? Auwm? Praycash?

OM: Yes! yes—it's me, Om! ( he's grin -ning wide, Ma looks bewildered. Jaya looks awe-struck )

GINNI: Well-hi! That's really great! This is Virginia—Ginni—speaking! Can you see me? How's your reception?

OM: Quite good—quite perfect, I should say! Fantastic!

GINNI: Wow! Yeah...well it's pretty wonderful for me too, you know! I mean, I can't tell you... ( her voice grows breathy with emotion ) I can't tell you how much this means to me—

MA: ( to Jaya ) What's it saying? I can't understand when they speak so fast—

OM: No, no, Madam! It's your pleasure! Our duty, I mean! Anything we can do to help—

JAYA: ( to Ma ) She's saying that she's happy—

GINNI: It's the most beautiful day of my life! I feel I've got hope, at last! And all because of you—

OM: No, no Madam, it is my—our pleasure.

GINNI: Is it—I mean, can you see me clearly, Auwm?

OM: Perfectly clear.

GINNI: Okay—okay—now you've got to tell me—I'm just switching screens here—okay—there we are—okay! I can see... is that your ... your mother? In the pink—( Jaya flinches: she is wearing a pink sari ) whatdyacallit—sarong? We call it—sari—

GINNI: ( sings an old tune ) "Who's sari now? Who's sari now?!!" ( laughs to her -self ) Hehheh—It's magical, it's wonderful! I'm really talking to India—this is really happening!