And this is probably one of the most sublimally beautiful tragic love scenes in the history of literature:

They were strangers who had met in a chance encounter.
They had known each other before Life began.

There is very little that anyone could say to clarify what happened next. Nothing that (in Mammachi's book) would seperate Sex from Love. Or Needs from Feelings.

Except perhaps that no Watcher watched through Rahel's eyes. No one stared out of a window at the sea. Or a boat in the river. Or a passer-by in the mist in a hat.

Except perhaps that it was a little cold. A little wet. But very quiet. The Air.

But what was there to say?

Only that there were tears. Only that Quietness and Emptiness fitted together like stacked spoons. Only that there was a snuffling in the hollows at the base of a lovely throat. Only that a honey-coloured shoulder had a semi-circle of teethmarks on it. Only that they held each other close, long after it was over. Only that what they shared that night was not happiness, but hideous grief.

Only that once again they broke the Love Laws. That lay down who should be loved. And how. And how much.

Yet another excerpt from "The God of Small Things". Honestly, reading this book reminds me again and again why I love lit, and why I'll never regret doing an extra year for it. I would copy out the scene between Ammu and Velutha and the end of the novel, except that I suspect that would be a spoiler (as yet, those who havnt read the book wouldn't know who this particular scene is between). Also, I might horrify certain readers with the blatant eroticism and sexuality of an A-level text. Not that I'm complaining mind you. It's about time people stop seeing sex as dirty, or just plain fun, but as something beautiful. (As a pointed aside, the Catholic Church doesn't view sex as dirty. Sex, as an act of love (and thus pro-creation) is beautiful - as is sexuality.)

Right. Back to Ayemenem then.