It happened at the end of winter, in a year when the poppies were strangely slow to shed their petals: for mile after mile, from Benares onwards, the Ganga seemed to be flowing between twin glaciers, both its banks being blanketed by thick drifts of white-petalled flowers. It was as if the snows of the high Himalayas had descended on the plains to await the arrival of Holi and its springtime profusion of colour.
（那件事）发生在冬季末，那一年罂粟花瓣凋落的速度异常缓慢。落在地上的花瓣绵延了几公里，从贝纳勒斯通向远方。（于是）恒河就好像在双子雪山中流淌了，河两岸覆盖着厚厚的白花瓣毯，就好像雪从喜马拉雅的高山上降落到了这片平原，等待着霍利节和春天似锦繁花的到来。
Yet, despite the careworn commonplaceness of her appearance, there was one respect in which she stood out from the ordinary: she had light grey eyes, a feature that was unusual in that part of the country. Such was the colour - or perhaps colourlessness - of her eyes that they made her seem at once blind and all-seeing.
然而，尽管她的外表是忧虑且平凡的，但仍有一样东西让她与旁人区别开——她有一双淡灰色的眼睛，在这片地区可是很少见的。这样的颜色——又或者是无色——让她看起来好像看不见任何东西，又好像看得见所有东西。
Between the rows of flowers, the ground was carpeted in papery petals and she scooped them up in handfuls, dropping them into her basket. A week or two before, she would have taken care to creep sideways, so as not to disturb the flowers, but today she all but flounced as she went and was none too sorry when her swishing sari swept clusters of petals off the ripening pods.
一排排花中间的地面上铺着纸般的花瓣，她用手把它们拢起来放进自己的篮子里。在一两周前，她都是小心翼翼地侧身在这里走，以免碰坏了花，但是今天她走得很急匆，也不为自己的纱丽窸窸窣窣地碰落花瓣而担心了。
Deeti drew the ghungta of her sari over her face, but the old cotton, cheap and thin to begin with, was now so worn that she could see right through it: the faded fabric blurred the outlines of everything in view, tinting the edges of the plump poppy pods with a faintly crimson halo.
蒂缇把纱丽的裙边拉了起来，但是老旧的棉花，廉价而又薄透，已经磨损得可以透过它看见后面——破旧的纤维让一切都变得朦胧起来，饱满的罂粟果也笼罩着红色的光圈。
...her fate being ruled by Saturn - Shani - a planet that exercised great power on those born under its influence, often bringing discord, unhappiness and disharmony.
她的命运由木星—Shani—主宰，这颗星对于生于其影响下的人有着巨大的控制力，但多数时候都带来不幸、不快乐与不和谐。
With this shadow darkening her future, Deeti’s expectations had never been high: she knew that if she were ever to be married, it would probably be to a much older man, possibly an elderly widower who needed a new wife to nurse his brood.
有了这片命运的阴霾，她从来不做过高的期望：她知道如果她要结婚，很有可能是和一个大她许多的男人结婚，或者是一个老鳏夫想要她去给自己的孩子们做保姆。
Deeti snapped off a poppy pod and held it to her nose: the smell of the drying sap was like wet straw, vaguely reminiscent of the rich, earthy perfume of a newly thatched roof after a shower of rain.
底提掰开了一颗罂粟果放到鼻子底下，这发干的汁液闻起来好像湿润的茅草，让人隐约回忆起雨过后那新盖的茅草屋顶散发出的有些奢侈又有些泥土味的香气。
As for Hukam Singh, she had been favourably impressed by his soldierly bearing, which was, if anything, enhanced by his limp. What she had liked better still was his drowsy demeanour and slow manner of speech; he had seemed inoffensive, the kind of man who would go about his work without causing trouble, not the least desirable of qualities in a husband.
至于Hukam Singh，他士兵般的举止给她留下了很好的印象，特别是他的瘸腿又增添了几分他士兵气质。她更喜欢的是他昏昏欲睡的样子以及他说话时候的慢悠悠，他看起来人畜无害，是那种工作时不会找麻烦的男人，而这些不是一位丈夫所被希望拥有的品质。
Through the ceremonies and afterwards, during the long journey upriver to her new home, Deeti had felt no apprehension. Sitting in the prow of the boat, with her wedding sari drawn over her face, she had experienced a pleasurable thrill when the women sang:
Sakhiyă-ho, saiyă moré písé masála
Sakhiyă-ho, bará mítha lagé masála
Oh friends, my love’s a-grinding
Oh friends, how sweet is this spice!
The music had accompanied her as she was carried, in a nalki, from the riverbank to the threshold of her new home; veiled in her sari, she had seen nothing of the house as she went to the garlanded marital bed, but her nostrils had been filled with the smell of fresh thatch.
——*——
坐在船上逆流而上，听着女人的歌声让她的全身惊喜而战栗，盖着盖头她什么也没看到，但是她记得鼻孔里闻到了新鲜的茅草屋顶的味道。茅草屋顶在她的心里是和她新婚时候不安而又期待的喜悦相连的，她渴望换一个新屋顶，换了新屋顶也许就意味着日子能过有新开始，就如同新婚对她来说也是一个新的开始一样（能过和同龄人结婚也预示着所谓的土星厄运被破解了，也就让她心里产生了一丝能过征服“命定”的心情？）
Quietly, so as not to rouse him from his trance, she reached under her veil to wipe her eyes. But her bangles tinkled and woke him; he picked up his needle again and held it over the flame. When the pipe was ready to be smoked, he turned to her, smiling, and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if she wanted to try it too. She nodded, thinking that if this smoke could take away the pain of a shattered bone then surely it would help in calming the disquiet in her heart. But when she reached for the pipe, he moved it quickly out of her reach, holding it to his chest: No - you won’t know how! He took a mouthful of the smoke, placed his mouth on hers and breathed it into her body himself. Her head began to swim, but whether from the smoke or from the touch of his lips she could not tell.
她轻轻地——以免把他从昏昏欲睡中唤醒——用手在面纱下擦了擦自己的眼睛。但是她手镯的反光还是让他清醒了过来。他又一次拿起他的烟针放在火上。当这一管烟已经可以抽了的时候，他微笑着转过朝向她挑了挑眉，好像在问她是否也想试试。
她点了点头，想着如果这些烟能带走碎骨之痛，那么也一定可以让她心中的不安平静下来。但是当她伸出手想接过烟管的时候，他飞快地移开了，把烟管护在胸前：“不，你不知道怎么抽！”他吸了一口烟，把自己的嘴贴在她的嘴上，又把烟吐了进去。她的脑子开始眩晕，然而是因为这一口烟还是因为唇的触碰，她说不出来。
It was a decoction of datura that wrung the truth from the old woman, by sending her into a trance from which she never recovered. In her last days, when her mind was wandering she often referred to Deeti as ‘Draupadi’; when asked why, she would murmur drowsily: Because the earth has never seen a more virtuous woman than Draupadi, of the Mahabharata, wife to five brothers. It’s a fortunate woman, a saubhágyawati, who bears the children of brothers for each other …
曼陀罗的熬汁让这个老女人吐出了实情，也送她进入了永远不会醒来的恍惚中。在她最后的日子里，她经常把底提叫成“黑公主”；当问她为什么这么叫，她在昏沉中喃喃道：“因为这个世界上没有比黑公主更有美德的女人了，她是《摩诃婆罗多》里的角色，是五个兄弟的老婆。她是一个幸运的女人，为五个兄弟都怀了孩子……
