The Wedding Drums

by Marilyn Rodwell

  ‘Mr Amrit lives here?’ Farouk shouted.

  A minute later, a tall, well-built man, in clean pressed clothes, appeared at the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Farouk from Granville.’

  The man squinted and then called back. ‘Yes, I have been expecting you. Wait there.’ Amrit was an upright man in stature, and he strolled out, calling the dogs back before arriving at the gate. He opened it and let them in, smiling. Farouk and Sumati looked at each other, pleased at the friendly reception. After offering them refreshments, Amrit showed them to the rooms.

  ‘Farouk only,’ Amrit said. ‘No badness going on here. The girl – you come. You can stay with the other girls. My nephew said you’re looking for work?’ He stared at Farouk. ‘You will pay me back when you find a job. When are you getting married?’

  Sumati began to giggle.

  ‘Are you laughing at me?’ Amrit said. ‘Then – does your mother know you are here?’ His voice changed from friendly to hostile.

  But just then Dillip, his son, arrived and answered the question.

  ‘Who cares?’ he said. ‘You all must join me for drinks tonight. We will talk about work. I might have something for you.’

  Dillip was tall, broad-shouldered like his father, but well groomed. His voice was friendly, and he sounded almost like an English gentleman – like a son of a plantation owner. Farouk and Sumati smiled, relieved that they had begun their new life in a good place.

  ‘Anything,’ Farouk said. ‘We will do whatever it takes to get work and save up to find a place of our own.’ He cast his eyes longingly around the vast newly built compound.

  ‘Yes,’ Dillip said. ‘I can see you have big ambitions. My father started with nothing. There’s no shame in starting at the bottom.’

  Later that afternoon Farouk and Sumati sat on the bench in the shade of the almond tree, chatting blissfully.

  ‘They have a big shop here,’ Farouk said to her. ‘San Fernando is the place!’

  ‘We’re lucky,’ Sumati agreed. ‘I knew it would turn out well. Amina was so frightened to come. That’s where we are so different. She’ll get nowhere back there in Granville. They’ll marry her off and she’ll never get what she wants. Teaching! That’ll never happen. This town has everything. It even smells different.’

  ‘We’ve only just come,’ Farouk reminded her cautiously. ‘Let’s wait and see.’

  ‘But I can feel it!’ the girl insisted.

  After a big dinner, Amrit left Sumati and Farouk to have drinks with Dillip and his friends. Farouk and Sumati enjoyed the interesting new company, and were both happily inebriated for the first time in their lives. In fact, Sumati had to be helped up to bed by the woman called Tonia. That was their first day.

  SIXTEEN

  Since Amina had told Daya the truth about Sumati’s disappearance, she had not seen the woman so, on her way to school one morning, she walked past the house out of curiosity. The kiskadee birds were particularly noisy that morning, squawking in the hog-plum tree at the front of the house, flying from branch to branch arguing over the ripe yellow plums, as if they hadn’t eaten for a month. It was the plum season. Two ground doves flapped around under the bushes, pecking at seeds and fallen fruit. The house itself looked lonely. No activity was evident – not even a saphee on the clothesline.

  She wanted to call in, but worried about facing Roopchand or Daya so she hurried off to school. Everyone was still talking about Sumati’s disappearance. It had led to all sort of rumours and speculation, some of which were embarrassingly close to the truth. Amina tried to use the situation to gather support for Mr Clifford’s evening classes, but although some said they did not want an arranged marriage, they did not want to take extra classes either.

  ‘Maybe one day our parents will understand,’ Pryia said.

  ‘How?’ Amina asked, gloomily. ‘What are you doing about it? Did Moonia die for nothing – has Sumati run away for nothing? I miss them both.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know who to get married to, if it was up to me,’ Chandra said. ‘My mother will find me a good boy from upperside.’

  ‘My mother says Sumati was trouble, and she was right,’ Ramona said. ‘Look what she’s done. My mother says Sumati will get herself burnt one day.’

  ‘Your mother is Meena, right?’ Pryia said, loud and annoyed. ‘But she doesn’t have to act meanly!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ramona asked.

  ‘Well, how does your mother know Sumati deserves all she gets?’ Pryia asked. ‘If it was you who was forced to marry some wrinkled-up old man, how would you feel?’

  ‘Everybody has to marry somebody,’ Ramona said matter-of-factly. ‘The difference is, I wouldn’t run away and bring shame on my family.’

  ‘Because you’re too good, yeah?’ Pryia snapped. ‘Why are you always repeating what your mother says? Don’t you have a mind of your own? Do you even listen to anything Mr Clifford says?’

  ‘People are jealous of how good-looking Sumati is,’ Chandra put in.

  ‘I expect Ramona is jealous of Sumati’s freedom,’ Amina said. ‘If I’m honest, I am too – in a way. But we need to do something. Gossiping about her isn’t fair. If we don’t make our parents stop what they are doing, we will do the same to our daughters, because we’ll be caught in that trap with no education and no decent job. Sometimes I feel I’m in a jail.’

  ‘Me too,’ Pryia and Ramona agreed.

  The month of March was in the middle of the dry season. It was hot, and three o’clock, the end of the school day, seemed the hottest part of the day. The girls were at the water taps at school, cooling down before walking home – laughing, drinking, washing their hands, splashing their faces, and rinsing the dust off their bare legs from knees to feet.

  ‘I think it’s time we joined together to stick up for Sumati and her family,’ Amina said. ‘We should go and see the panch leader. They’ve put the family in cujart, so no one is talking to Sumati’s family.’

  ‘I don’t even know who the leader is,’ Pryia said.

  ‘Sumati’s family need people to help them, not put them in isolation as if they’ve got typhoid. Did you hear what Mr Clifford said today in assembly? “Love thy neighbour as thyself”.’

  ‘Who is thyself?’ Chandra asked.

  ‘It’s you, stupid!’ Ramona laughed her gutsy laugh. ‘Ma will surely bust my head if she finds out, but I’m coming with you. I don’t care.’

  ‘If we annoy the panch, maybe our families will also be put in cujart,’ Pryia said.

  ‘That could be true.’ Ramona shivered. ‘I’m scared. I already got shouted at once today. I can’t take another telling-off. Come to my house instead.’

  ‘Ramona, you weren’t scared of gawping at those dogs outside today.’

  Amina and Pryia began to giggle.

  ‘What?’ Chandra asked innocently.

  ‘I was only looking,’ Ramona said.

  ‘Yeah! At two stray dogs doing it, with your mouth wide open,’ Pryia chortled.

  ‘Are you coming or not!’ Ramona said.

  As they walked, flies zoomed around and bees buzzed from flower to wild flower. The girls headed for the trees, dodging the hot sun, and walking on the grassy verge to avoid the sharp gravel. Suddenly everything went dark. Heavy clouds hid the sun, and the birds stopped singing.

  As they approached the bend in the road before Ramona’s house, they heard the sounds of cries and shouting. They stopped walking and looked at each other, alarmed, before hastening to the corner. The noises grew louder. Low moans sailed through the wind. Then a crowd. Women were crying. Men were calling out. A girl ran towards them.

  Two men were standing on a table, reaching up into the tree above. One who looked like Kesh, Sumati’s brother, was trying to pick hog-plums. But all the noise – it didn’t make sense. Black birds flew around, squawking, and people were chasing them.

  ‘That’s my uncle,’ Ramona said. ‘With Sumati’s brother.’
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br />   ‘Looks like somebody’s thrown something in the tree, and they are trying to get it down,’ Amina said. ‘Ramona – is that your mother?’

  ‘Can’t be,’ the girl replied. ‘She’s supposed to be helping my aunt plant rice today in Point Cocoa.’

  As they got closer they saw Ramona’s uncle was standing on the table with Kesh, and through the gap, the girls had a full view of what was happening.

  ‘Oh God!’ Amina shouted. ‘I don’t believe it.’ She stood, confused. Held her throat as if she had swallowed a mouthful of sharp gravel. Grabbing Ramona’s arm on one side, and Pryia’s on the other side, she held on to them as if she was drowning. Then she let out the first scream.

  A person was suspended from the tree. A woman. Her head was bent forward; pieces of her oiled black hair had come loose and hair coiled like snakes on both sides of her face, and her legs dangled loosely below her long skirt. Her eyes were open and bulging – dark, swollen circles around them. Her lips were fat and blue, half-open, and her purple tongue stuck out between her teeth.

  Kesh was leaning over the side of the table, white as a ghost. He looked up as the girls approached. His eyes, red and haunted, stared at them with his mouth open. No words came out. Then he held his stomach and howled. ‘Ma! Oh God, not my mother!’

  Untying the knots in the tree around the branch where Daya swung in the hot air proved impossible. People shivered as they watched her legs being supported to ease the weight from the ropes. Villagers returning from work stopped to watch or tried to help. Everyone was in a state of shock. The girls were all crying.

  ‘Just cut the rope!’ Kesh screamed. ‘She’ll die!’

  ‘There’s no point,’ Ramona’s uncle said, heavily. ‘She is already dead, boy!’

  ‘No! No! No! She’s still moving,’ Kesh wailed. ‘Look at her legs. Do something somebody! Ma, why did you do this?’

  Ramona’s mother, Meena, came and stood close to the girls. Her eyes were bloodshot. ‘Come, all of you. Come inside.’

  Just at the moment, Daya’s body dropped limply into the arms of the men underneath. The dead woman’s ankles were red and swollen as they fell on the table. People rushed forward to help support her. They struggled to cut the rope from her neck before carrying her inside the house. Then Roopchand arrived home from work and saw the crowds gathered in front of his house.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘Did Sumati come home?’

  Spotting Amina, he directed a fierce, angry look at her, then headed down the side of the house with long, loping strides.

  ‘I don’t know!’ Amina called after him, feeling distressed. ‘I’ve not seen her since she disappeared.’

  The chattering outside was interrupted by a sudden wailing coming from inside the house. It was Roopchand – and the howl of grief went on for at least a minute. Then he appeared on the veranda with his head in his hands.

  ‘She’s gone!’ he shouted.

  Meena shuffled closer to the girls, holding on to them. ‘Come inside,’ she said gently.

  As they turned to go with her, Roopchand came striding out, fast and furious, to the front of the house, wiping his face with his palm. His cheeks were red and blotched with dirty tear stains. Roopchand’s big hand clamped on Amina’s shoulder, and he was shaking her until her teeth chattered.

  ‘It’s your fault,’ he roared. ‘If it wasn’t for you, she would have never run away in the first place.’

  Before Amina could pull free, he grabbed the other shoulder and began shaking again till her head looked like it was falling off.

  Meena heaved Amina away from his grip. ‘Leave the girl alone!’ she shouted. ‘It’s nobody else’s fault but yours and that daughter of yours.’

  ‘You!’ he said, looking at Meena. ‘You never liked my Sumati. Why? What did she ever do to you?’

  ‘I really don’t know how Daya lived with the both of you,’ Meena went on. ‘That is why she did this.’

  Everyone gasped.

  Kesh came rushing out. ‘Pa! Leave the girl alone. You are just making everything worse.’

  ‘Your mother trusted that Banderjee girl!’ Roopchand wept, looking like a wild man.

  Other people noticed and came forward to speak in Amina’s defence, but the girl spoke up to Roopchand herself.

  ‘I am sorry I was never able to stop Sumati doing what she wanted to do,’ she said, and they could all hear the sincerity in her voice. ‘Maybe that was my fault. But it was you who drove her away. This is what happens when parents like you arrange husbands for little girls before they’re even old enough to go to the latrine by themselves.’

  Roopchand reached out and grabbed Amina by the neck, but Kesh pulled him off, and dragged him back to the house, staggering as if he was drunk.

  Devinia arrived soon after, running breathlessly after hearing the gossip. She squeezed her way through the crowd to find her daughter choking and coughing from Roopchand’s stranglehold.

  ‘What happened?’ the woman asked.

  ‘Ma,’ Amina gulped and collapsed into the safety of her mother’s arms.

  ‘I heard what happened to Daya, but where do you come into it?’

  ‘He blamed me – and he could be right, Ma,’ the girl said, sobbing. ‘Roopchand could well be right. It’s all my fault.’

  SEVENTEEN

  When they got back home, Devinia sat down with Amina and tried to talk to her. ‘Don’t listen to that man. He has just lost his wife, and his daughter left home without telling them a thing. And they are in cujart. But I don’t think people will take notice of that anymore. Everybody will be so sorry for him and Kesh.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Ma.’

  ‘I know that you want to fix everything for everyone, but you cannot blame yourself for this. You will make yourself crazy if you do so. And you’ve been through enough.’

  ‘But. . . ’

  ‘No. No more.’ Devinia was tearful as well as angry with Amina. ‘You’re tired and upset. I will go and boil some cocoa tea for you. Drink it and go to sleep. Read your book.’

  ‘I don’t have one. I gave it back to Mr Clifford.’

  ‘Then think about how to write one.’

  Amina looked at her mother, both puzzled and shocked.

  ‘You can read, you can write. You’re always writing letters to people, so write a story.’

  Her mother had a point. The startling suggestion worked: it brought down the girl’s anxiety and made her realise she could only do things that were within her power to do. The ability to change the mind of every Hindu parent was not within her power. She was unsure if she could change the mind of her own parents. But she realised that she could change her own mind, and be truthful to herself.

  When Amina finally fell asleep, it was in her parents’ bed. Her dreams were vivid and fitful, making her flail around all night. Devinia shook her more than once to bring her out of her nightmare. It wasn’t until dawn forced beams of light through the invisible gaps in the windows, that Amina’s sleep became more peaceful.

  Devinia got up earlier than usual, giving up on any hope of her own rest. It wasn’t just Amina’s restlessness that had kept her awake, but her own conscience. If anyone was to blame for Daya’s suicide, it would be her.

  She got ready for the day and sat at the altar in her bedroom in front of the goddess, Lakshmi. She chanted many prayers so that her family would be safe, and so that it would be overlooked that she had not stopped Daya from taking her life. Daya had told her of her intention just the day before. Devinia thought she had dissuaded her, by telling the other woman that drowning was not an easy death. And that starting the afterlife in water would hinder, not hasten her crossing to the other side. And what would happen to her children? Sumati needed her calming influence and wise guidance. Devinia realised she had failed her friend. Now she felt guilty.

  Sankar came to talk to her as she was making breakfast.

  ‘Our daughter thinks it’s her fault,’ Devinia said. ‘Roopchand
blamed her yesterday, and he lashed out. If anything, it’s my fault.’

  ‘How, your fault? And why is he blaming my daughter? It’s madness. I have a good mind to go and fix him up.’

  ‘He didn’t mean it,’ Devinia said quietly. ‘He is not in his right mind.’

  But Sankar wasn’t listening. ‘I’m not having it! He has no business accusing my child like that. And what exactly you mean by – he lashed out? I hope he didn’t touch Amina! Wake her – let me find out.’

  ‘No. She needs to rest.’

  ‘If he touched her, I am going to chop his hands off!’

  ‘That family has been through too much,’ Davina told him firmly. ‘Daya was here the day before yesterday, not knowing what to do. Now she’s gone. You can’t bring her back.’

  ‘I noticed Amina had a rash on her neck last night. What is wrong with her? I hope she’s not ill again.’

  ‘Maybe a fever,’ Devinia lied, dreading him finding out about Roopchand’s assault on their child.

  ‘I’ll go and talk to the man,’ Sankar insisted. ‘It was not our Amina’s fault.’

  ‘Leave it,’ Devinia commanded. ‘That poor man will have to bury his wife, and his only daughter has gone missing. He has enough to cope with.’

  ‘Well, keep Amina home today,’ Sankar said. ‘She’ll be in no fit state to go to school.’ He looked closely at his wife. ‘I hope you are telling me everything. Has anybody called the police? I hear Daya might have been strangled.’

  The next day, Etwar returned home from school early. ‘There’s a half day school tomorrow, for the funeral,’ he announced.

  Amina broke down in fresh tears. ‘I can’t go to the funeral when Sumati’s not here.’

  ‘She might come back,’ Etwar said gravely. ‘I hope so. Mr Clifford made us spend five minutes in silence today as a mark of respect. I’m going to the funeral.’

  ‘He closed the school?’ Devinia asked, surprised.

  ‘It was out of respect,’ Etwar repeated. ‘He’s going himself tomorrow to show support for Sumati’s family. And it doesn’t matter what creed or race any of us are. He said we’re all comrades.’