The Mistress of Spices

“When I hold it in my hands, the spice speaks to me. Its voice is like evening, like the beginning of the world. I am turmeric who rose out of the ocean of milk when the devas and asuras churned for the treasures of the universe. I am turmeric who came after the nectar and before the poison and thus lie in between. Yes, I whisper, swaying to its rhythm. Yes. You are turmeric, shield for heart’s sorrow, anointment for death, hope for rebirth. Together we sing this song, as we have many times.”

Tilo’s reverence for turmeric as a symbol of purity reflects the deeper cultural and spiritual meanings associated with this spice in Indian traditions. This quote highlights the novel’s theme of the mystical properties of spices and their roles in the characters’ lives. By personifying turmeric and addressing it directly, Tilo establishes an intimate connection with the spice, further emphasizing the magical realism that permeates the narrative.

“Later I would ask, ‘Why did you save me, why?’ The serpents never answered. What answer is there for love.”

The protagonist, Tilo, reflects on her rescue by the sea serpents, a significant event that marks both her physical and spiritual rebirth. Her questioning of the serpents’ motives, “Why did you save me, why?” speaks to a deeper search for understanding her journey and the forces that guide it. The serpents’ silence in response to her question symbolizes the ineffable nature of love and the mystical forces at play in Tilo’s life.

“Chili, spice of red Thursday, which is the day of reckoning. Day which invites us to pick up the sack of our existence and shake it inside out. Day of suicide, day of murder.”

This intense and vivid description of chili as “the spice of red Thursday” encapsulates its powerful and potentially destructive nature. The day of reckoning metaphor symbolizes a time of judgment or decision, foreshadowing the spice’s destructive role at the end of the novel, when it precipitates an earthquake that signals Tilo’s final shedding of her magical role as she steps into her new identity as an ordinary, mortal woman who will choose her destiny.

“In the inner room of the store, on the topmost shelf, sits a sealed jar filled with red fingers of light. One day I will open it and the chilies will flicker to the ground. And blaze. Lanka, fire-child, cleanser of evil. For when there is no other way.”

This quote is rich with symbolism and foreshadowing, encapsulating the essence of Tilo’s internal struggle and the novel’s thematic exploration of destiny and choice. The imagery of the sealed jar with chilies, described as “red fingers of light,” evokes a sense of latent power and potential chaos. Tilo’s contemplation of opening the jar one day and unleashing the chilies symbolizes her acknowledgment of the drastic measures she might need to take to rectify certain situations. The reference to “Lanka, fire-child, cleanser of evil” imbues the chilies with a mythological and purifying aspect, suggesting their use in extreme circumstances where no other solution is viable. This moment in the narrative highlights the tension between Tilo’s duty as a mistress of spices and her growing willingness to break the rules for the greater good. It foreshadows a critical turning point in the story, where Tilo must confront the consequences of her actions and the weight of her responsibilities.

“‘Are you ready never to love any but the spices again?’ Around me my sister-novices, their garments still wet from the seawater she had poured on them, stood silent, shivering a little. And it seemed to me the prettiest ones kept their eyes lowered longest. Ah, now I have learned how deep in the human heart vanity lies, vanity which is the other face of the fear of being unloved.”

This captures a significant moment of realization and introspection for Tilo. The question posed to her and her fellow novices, “Are you ready never to love any but the spices again?” is a profound commitment that demands the renunciation of personal desires. Tilo’s observation that the “prettiest ones kept their eyes lowered longest” reflects her understanding of the complexity of human emotions. She recognizes vanity not just as a superficial trait but as a manifestation of a deeper fear—the fear of being unloved. This insight underscores the novel’s exploration of sacrifice, love, and the cost of the vows taken by the Mistresses of Spices.

“[S]he writes my new name on my forehead. My Mistress name, finally and forever, after so many changes in who I am. My true-name […] ‘Remember this too: Tilottama, disobedient at the last, fell. And was banished to earth to live as a mortal for seven lives. Seven mortal lives of illness and age, of people turning in disgust from her twisted, leprous limbs.’

‘But I will not fall, Mother.’ No hint of shaking in my voice. My heart is filled with passion for the spices, my ears with the music of our dance together. My blood with our shared power. I need no pitiful mortal man to love. I believe this. Wholly.”

For Tilo, the act of receiving her Mistress name symbolizes a final and irrevocable commitment to her role, a culmination of her transition from an ordinary existence to a life bound by ancient, mystical duties. In accepting this role, Tilo gives up much of her personal agency, promising to love only the spices from here on, and the reference to Tilottama’s story is a cautionary tale, emphasizing the consequences of disobedience and the potential downfall that awaits those who dare to defy their fate.

“My nails cut into my palms. With the blood comes pain. And shame. ‘You’ll be tempted,’ said the Old One before I left. ‘You especially with your lava hands that want so much from the world. Your lava heart flying too easily to hate, to envy, to love-passion. Remember why you were given your power.’ Pardon, First Mother.”

This quote portrays Tilo’s internal struggle as a Mistress of Spices, capturing The Tension Between Duty and Personal Desire. As her nails cut into her palms, the pain symbolizes the pain of her self-restraint, a metaphor for the sacrifices she must make in adhering to her role. The reference to “lava hands” and “lava heart” suggests a fiery, passionate nature, juxtaposed with the restraint and discipline required of her. This inner turmoil is central to Tilo’s character development, as she navigates the fine line between the powers bestowed upon her and the personal emotions she is expected to suppress.

“And so far. So far. I had not thought this before. Between the island and America, a galaxy of nights. On my elbow, a touch like petals. ‘Wait Tilo.’ Behind a veil of smoke, that shimmering in her eyes. Was it tears. And the stinging in my heart, what was that. Almost I said it. Mother take back the power. Let me stay here with you. What satisfaction can be greater than to serve the one I love. But the years and days, the moments that had pushed me to this place, inexorable, and made me who I was, would not let me.”

This passage illustrates Tilo’s internal struggle and the profound sense of distance she feels from her past life. The phrase “a galaxy of nights” metaphorically signifies the vast emotional and experiential distance that Tilo has traversed. This realization brings a deep sense of introspection and longing for the simpler times on the island. The quote ends with a recognition of the inevitability of her journey: “But the years and days, the moments that had pushed me to this place, inexorable, and made me who I was, would not let me.” This acceptance speaks to the novel’s theme of destiny and self-discovery.

“So perhaps it’s fitting that the lonely American comes into the store on a Friday evening, the full moon already floating above the shoulder of the woman on the cut-out billboard by the freeway, and she in a black evening gown holding up a glass of Chivas. The headlights of oncoming cars hit the rhinestone straps of her gown so they shine like anticipation. Her eyes are like smoke, her mouth like pomegranates. They hurt me. And when I listen, the speeding cars sound mournful as wind in island bamboo. I start to say I’m closing, but then I look at him and I can’t.”

This passage illustrates Divakaruni’s use of imagery and metaphor to convey mood and emotion. The full moon and the woman in the billboard symbolize allure and desire, contrasting with the protagonist’s feelings of pain and sorrow. The comparison of the woman’s eyes to smoke and her mouth to pomegranates adds layers of sensuality and temptation, further complicating Tilo’s emotional state. This quote is significant as it captures Tilo’s inner conflict, torn between her duties as a Mistress of Spices and the pull of her desires and emotions.

“‘When you begin to weave your own desires into your vision,’ the Old One told us, ‘the true seeing is taken from you. You grow confused, and the spices no longer obey you.’ Back Tilo, before it’s too late. I force my mind to emptiness. I will trust only my hands, my hands with their singing bones to know what the lonely American needs.”

This quote illuminates the central conflict Tilo faces as a Mistress of Spices: The Tension Between Duty and Personal Desire. The Old One’s warning is a critical reminder of the rules governing her powers. It emphasizes the danger of allowing personal emotions and desires to cloud her judgment and diminish her ability to see clearly and use the spices effectively. This struggle is at the heart of Tilo’s journey, underscoring the theme of the constant battle between personal will and a higher calling.

“One step too close and the cords of light connecting a Mistress to the one she helps can turn to webs, tar and steel, enmeshing, miring, pulling you both to destruction. I believe this. Have I not already approached the edge, felt it begin to crumble underfoot? And so I repeat to myself the Old One’s words at night as I wrench my attention from that apartment across town where a man’s voice cracks across a room sudden as a slap, that apartment like a black hole waiting to implode, into which I, raging, could so easily disappear. Spices I know you will keep her from harm. Is it doubt I hear beneath my words?”

This passage delves deep into Tilo’s internal conflict, highlighting the delicate balance she must maintain as a Mistress of Spices. The metaphor of the “cords of light” turning into “webs, tar and steel” vividly illustrates the danger of becoming too involved in the lives of those she helps. It signifies the fine line between aiding and overstepping, a boundary Tilo is acutely aware of and struggles to navigate. This is a critical moment in the narrative, as it shows Tilo grappling with the limitations of her powers and her role.

“O cinnamon strength-giver, cinnamon friend-maker, what have we done.”

Tilo’s invocation of cinnamon as a “strength-giver” and “friend-maker” is more than an acknowledgment of its properties; it is an intimate conversation with a force that has been both an ally and a challenge in her journey. For Tilo, the spices are more than food ingredients: They are her companions, guides, and sometimes, her adversaries. The rhetorical question “what have we done” suggests a turning point, where Tilo begins to question not just her methods but the very nature of her powers. It speaks to the novel’s exploration of the responsibility that comes with power.

“Today I plan to stretch my wings, to crack perhaps these shells and emerge into the infinite spaces of the outside world. It frightens me a little. I must admit this. And so I call on ginger. Root of gnarled wisdom, ada in your hide of banded brown, help me in this my seeking. I weigh your speckled solidness in the hollow of my palm. Wash you three times in lime water. Slice you translucent-thin as the curtain between waking and dream. Adrak ginger, be with me. I drop the slices in a pan of boiling water, watch them rise and sink, rise and sink, in a slow whirl. Like lives caught on karma’s wheel.”

This passage reflects Tilo’s desire for change and her apprehension about stepping out of her comfort zone. Her intention to “stretch [her] wings” symbolizes a yearning for freedom and exploration beyond the confines of her current existence. The metaphor of cracking shells to emerge into the outside world symbolizes transformation and rebirth, indicating her readiness to embrace new experiences. The ritualistic preparation of ginger, described with such sensory detail, underscores the novel’s theme of the mystical properties of spices and their role in guiding and aiding the characters.

“Night draped in her glamor-scarf of stars often deceives—especially when we want something just so. It is only in the impartial light of day that we are forced to learn the daytime reality of men. I sensed his coming long before he stood at the locked door of the shop looking at the dog-eared CLOSED sign. His body had been a column of heat shifting through the busy streets, his gait firm yet gentle as though it were not concrete but the earth’s skin he stepped on.”

This passage captures the contrast between the illusory glamor of night and the revealing nature of daylight. The metaphor of night being “draped in her glamor-scarf of stars” conveys a sense of deceptive beauty that the darkness can bring, especially regarding desires and expectations. This notion that night can deceive, while the day reveals the true nature of things, highlights the distinction between perception and reality, a recurring motif in the novel.

“I know there are other stories, numerous beyond counting, unreported unwritten, hanging bitter and brown as smog in America’s air. I will split once again tonight kalo jire seeds for all who have suffered from America. […] I will lock the door and stay up all night to do it, through dimness the knife rising and falling steady and silver as holy breath. […] As penance while I work I will not think once of Raven, I Tilo who have been so self-indulgent already. All night instead I will whisper into air purifying prayers for the maimed, for each lost limb, each crushed tongue. Each silenced heart.”

This passage encapsulates the sense of responsibility and empathy Tilo feels toward the immigrant community she serves. Her acknowledgment of the “unreported unwritten” stories represents the untold struggles and pain of immigrants in America. The imagery of these stories hanging “bitter and brown as smog in America’s air” reflects the pervasiveness and often overlooked presence of these hardships. Tilo splits kalo jire seeds not only for Haroun but as a gesture of care for all the immigrants suffering from inequality and prejudice in America.

“If you want true change you must use us differently, must call on our powers. You know the words. Spices, what are you saying. My spells were not given for myself to use. For you, for him, where do you separate the desires. Their voice is a shrug as though this were a little thing. I who know it is not, think in startlement, Why do they say this, they who know right and wrong better far than I. The singing rises now from the inner room. Come Tilo use us, we give ourselves gladly to you who have tended us so faithfully. Lotus root and abhrak, amlaki and most of all makaradwaj Kingspice, we are yours to command. Use us for love for beauty for your joy, because that is why we were made.”

This passage captures a critical juncture in Tilo’s journey, highlighting The Conflict Between Duty and Personal Desire. The spices, traditionally used for helping others, now invite Tilo to use them for her own purposes, blurring the line between selflessness and self-indulgence. This temptation challenges Tilo’s understanding of her role as a Mistress of Spices and the rules she has always adhered to. The spices, once symbols of healing and guidance for others, now become catalysts for Tilo’s self-exploration and transformation.

“It seems to me he is right, of all things this must be the worst. Though truly I do not know, I who had so often left the old for the new, caring little for that which remained behind. I who had come to believe that the empty, echoing chambers of the heart are as much a part of the human condition as our yearning to fill them. Until now. I think this, and my chest feels as though it is being squeezed between the rollers washerwomen use to wring clothes dry. For the first time I admit I am giving myself to love. Not the worship I offered the Old One, not the awe I felt for the spices. But human love, all tangled up, at once giving and demanding and pouting and ardent. It frightens me, the risk of it. And I see that the risk lies not in what I always feared, the anger of the spices, their desertion. The true risk is that I will somehow lose this love. And then how will I bear it, I Tilo who am learning that I am not as invulnerable as once I thought?”

Tilo confronts the full weight of her emerging human emotions, particularly the complexities and vulnerabilities of love. The realization that the “empty, echoing chambers of the heart” are not merely voids to be endured but essential parts of the human experience marks a profound change in her perspective. The metaphor of her chest feeling squeezed “between the rollers washerwomen use to wring clothes dry” conveys the intensity and pain of her emotional awakening.

“I walk to the window […] Dhruva, the star of resolution, stares at me unblinking-bright. […] I will not fail again. I will bring to Haroun that which will make him safe, whatever the cost. I take out the bag of kao jire seeds I carried so carefully all day. Pour them into my palm. […] fling them out over the sleeping city. Kalo jire wasted once again, what apology can I offer you? I can say only what you know already. It is too late for you to work your power. One spice alone is left that can help Haroun now.”

This passage illustrates Tilo’s commitment to her mission and the weight of responsibility she bears. The invocation of Dhruva, the star of resolution, symbolizes Tilo’s determination. This celestial reference infuses the narrative with a sense of destiny and a higher calling. The act of discarding the kalo jire seeds she has carefully prepared reflects Tilo’s realization of their limitations and the urgency of Haroun’s situation.

“On its own shelf in the inner room sits makaradwaj, king among spices. Has sat all this time, certain in the knowledge that I will one day come. Sooner, later. Days months years. It does not matter to makaradwaj who is the conqueror of time.”

This passage highlights the mystical and timeless nature of makaradwaj, described as “king among spices.” The characterization of makaradwaj as being beyond the constraints of time (“the conqueror of time”) adds a layer of mystique to the spice, elevating it beyond even the other magical spices in Tilo’s shop. This moment is significant as it suggests a preordained path for Tilo, where her journey and choices are intertwined with the spices’ ancient knowledge and powers. It also hints at the transformative potential of makaradwaj, poised to play a pivotal role in Tilo’s story.

“Spices why must you always compare. Each desire in the world is different, as is each love. You who were born in the world’s dawning know this far better than I.”

This reflective statement by Tilo underscores a central theme of the novel: the uniqueness of human experiences and emotions. By questioning the spices’ tendency to compare, Tilo highlights the complexity and individuality of desires and love. This acknowledgment speaks to the deeper understanding that each person’s journey and emotional landscape are distinct and cannot be generalized, something Tilo is learning as she embraces her individuality.

“Spices I am singing the chant of propitiation. Can you not this once travel the path of forgiveness.”

This reveals a moment of humility and desperation in Tilo’s journey. Her plea to the spices, “Can you not this once travel the path of forgiveness,” represents an acknowledgment of her vulnerability and the limitations of her power. The phrase “chant of propitiation” suggests Tilo’s recognition of her transgressions, even if she does not regret her choices. This marks a profound moment of self-awareness and personal growth. Tilo has chosen to break free from the rigid rules that have limited her choices. Now she hopes the spices can do the same, choosing forgiveness instead of punishment.

“The package in my hand glows with heat. Or is it rage. Tilo who should not have played with forces beyond your understanding, the destruction you have set in motion will touch every life around you. The entire city will shake with it.”

Tilo confronts the consequences of her actions. Her interaction with the spices, which she has used throughout the story to help others, now comes with a cost. This quote encapsulates the balance between power and responsibility. Tilo’s realization that her actions have far-reaching consequences beyond her immediate intentions speaks to the complex nature of power. The spices, symbolic of ancient wisdom and tradition, respond to her transgressions not with anger, but as forces of nature, impartial and inevitable. This moment is a turning point for Tilo, marking her transition from a wielder of the spices’ power to someone who must accept the consequences of her actions.

“American, it is good you remind me, I Tilo who was at the point of losing myself in you. You have loved me for the color of my skin, the accent of my speaking, the quaintness of my customs which promised you the magic you no longer found in the women of your own land. In your yearning you have made me into that which I am not.”

Raven’s affection for Tilo, as she perceives it, is rooted in an exoticized view of her—her skin color, accent, and customs. This points to a common experience among immigrants, where their uniqueness is both a point of attraction and a barrier to genuine understanding. Tilo recognizes that her lover’s attraction is based on a version of her that is not entirely real but rather a projection of his yearnings for exoticism and otherness. Her acknowledgment, “[I]t is good you remind me,” suggests a moment of clarity and reclamation of her self-identity, which she feels was at risk of being submerged in his perceptions.