The Wedding Drums

by Marilyn Rodwell

  ‘But there’s no point me holding a grudge.’

  This concession made Devinia feel doubly guilty. ‘My daughter is still at school. We haven’t decided what to do yet.’

  ‘My son and I run a very good business. We employ many people, and pay them fairly. As I said, the girl feels like the daughter I never had. And I wouldn’t want to see you suffer financial hardship. We are like family.’

  Devinia broke down in tears. ‘What can I do? She has her mind set on education. Her father wanted her to go to England to study to be a doctor. Now, I don’t know what will happen.’

  ‘That is just it,’ the man said. ‘I am offering her work in our business. She will send you the money, or I will save it for her. When she has enough, I will add more and buy her a ticket to England myself.’

  Devinia stared at him, not knowing what to say. She searched his face, looking for clues, and found his eyes, staring at hers with shimmering kindness. ‘She will have to find a place to live in San Fernando,’ she said.

  ‘She will have a place to stay with us. Free. We have plenty of space in the house. The girls working there are from far away. They all live with us. She can join them.’

  ‘You have a big business?’

  ‘Very big. You must come up and see it.’

  Devinia felt overwhelmed. ‘Why would you do that? You owe us nothing.’

  ‘Do I have to owe you something to offer your daughter work? Who knows when I might need your help? Besides, I don’t like to see a poor woman in such a situation. I help many in need. A few of them are fatherless girls, looking for work.’

  ‘But why did you travel all the way down here to me?’ Devinia wanted to know.

  ‘Didn’t I just say I consider you as family? Besides, it was my son who suggested it.’

  ‘Thank your son. A generous boy like his father. I am sorry for the distress we put you through, cancelling the wedding so suddenly. My husband thought he was doing the right thing for our daughter.’

  ‘Bring Amina up to San Fernando this Saturday,’ Mr Dass said, standing up to leave. ‘If I don’t see you, I will know you don’t need our help, and we’ll help someone else instead who needs it more than you.’

  The barrister, Mr Guppy, was pacing the corridors of the Red House in Port of Spain. Rajnath’s case had been delayed. The judge was late, and the prosecution lawyer seemed to be dilly-dallying. Mr Guppy was waiting for the other lawyer to inform them that Galapados Plantation had withdrawn the charges against Rajnath Kamalsingh. They were leaving it dangerously late, which would cost them the vexation of the judge and a fine for sure. In which case, he would file for costs too, which would mean that they would also pick up his costs if this ludicrous case continued. Mr Guppy became all of a flurry over the situation, but assured Rajnath, Kamal, and Annan that it was a minor mishap.

  ‘The prosecution lawyer is playing a dangerous game,’ he said. ‘The judge will be furious if they withdraw too late.’

  When the judge finally arrived, he turned out to be a different one. Judge Williamson-Peel. As the hearing finally started, Rajnath sat sweating with worry and sick with fear. The airless courtroom, with windows close to the ceiling, did not help. He realised now that he had everything to lose if Mr Guppy was wrong. He listened intently for the case to be withdrawn, but it seemed to be continuing. Mr Guppy began questioning the plantation manager. That, at least, seemed to be going to plan.

  ‘Mr MacDonald,’ Mr Guppy asked the plantation manager. ‘Did you receive the medical certificate from the doctor attending Mr Singh?’

  ‘Well, we didn’t get it till a long time after, sir,’ Mr MacDonald replied. ‘By that time, we had him down for refusing to obey orders.’

  ‘How could that be construed as refusing to obey orders, Mr MacDonald, seeing as my client was not even on the premises?’

  ‘Well, that is it, isn’t it?’ Mr MacDonald replied.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Mr Guppy said. ‘What do you mean by that is it isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t there on the premises. I can’t pay someone who is not working.’ Mr MacDonald’s face was turning red. ‘Besides, if he is not at work, he has to hand in a doctor’s letter. And there wasn’t one.’

  ‘You mean there wasn’t a medical certificate at that time. But there was one, later. At a later date, you did receive a medical certificate from the medical officer, Dr Douglas Boyle. I have a copy of it here, Your Honour.’ Guppy raised the piece of paper in the air, and the court clerk took it across to the judge.

  ‘I can’t see what the problem is here,’ Judge Williamson-Peel boomed. ‘This medical certificate shows that the defendant was ill during the dates in question. Is there some point to this?’ He scowled, and looked at the lawyer for the prosecution. ‘I am hoping that you are not wasting court time here,’ he said sternly. ‘And I hope, Mr Llewellyn-Jones, that you realise the costs of continuation . . . It will increase costs awarded to the defendant.’ The judge was looking across the room at the lawyer for the prosecution.

  ‘No more questions,’ Mr Guppy said, and sat down. He glanced at Rajnath with a quarter-smile and one raised eyebrow, but Rajnath was not totally convinced.

  Then Mr Llewellyn-Jones rose to his feet. ‘May I question the defendant?’ he said. This surprised them all, and Guppy took a few minutes’ leave from the judge to speak to Rajnath. A few moments later, Rajnath walked up to the stand. After the formalities, Mr Llewellyn-Jones started his questions.

  ‘Where were you between the sixteenth of March and the twenty-fourth of March?’

  ‘Objection, Your Honour,’ Guppy jumped up and said. ‘The twenty-fourth of March was yesterday.’

  ‘I don’t see what your objection is,’ the judge said. ‘Answer the question,’ he boomed, looking at Rajnath.

  ‘I was at home, sir,’ Rajnath said.

  ‘I didn’t hear that,’ Mr Llewellyn-Jones said. ‘Will you repeat that?’

  ‘I was at home, sir,’ Rajnath repeated, louder.

  ‘You was at home,’ Mr Llewellyn-Jones repeated. ‘And was you resting well?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Rajnath said. ‘I was.’

  ‘Why was that? Were you ill?’

  ‘Yes, well, no, n-not really,’ Rajnath stuttered. ‘I went down to the beach . . . ’

  ‘Were you supposed to be resting?’ Mr Llewellyn-Jones asked.

  Rajnath glanced at Mr Guppy, but the man was looking down, leafing through his papers.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Rajnath said. ‘I was resting.’

  ‘Were you ill yesterday?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Rajnath replied.

  ‘So, you were resting but you were not ill,’ Llewellyn-Jones repeated. ‘And you went to the beach.’

  ‘Objection,’ Guppy said. ‘Badgering my client.’

  ‘Continue,’ the judge boomed. ‘I hope you have some good reason for this!’

  Llewellyn-Jones turned to Rajnath to resume the questioning. ‘Can you tell the court why you were at home when you should have been at work? Hadn’t you taken enough time off while you were supposedly ill?’

  Rajnath’s face was beginning to redden. ‘I was told to go home.’

  ‘You were told to go home?’ Llewellyn repeated. ‘And, why, pray, was that? Who told you to go home? And what was the reason?’

  ‘Objection!’ Guppy stood up, red and perspiring in the face.

  ‘One question at a time, Mr Llewellyn-Jones,’ the judge said.

  But Rajnath was replying to all of them. ‘Yes, I was told to go home by the overseer. The driver called me to go and see him, and he said that I wasn’t looking well, and that I should go home until they sent me a message.’

  ‘If that is true, did they send a message?’ Llewellyn-Jones looked at him hard. ‘I presume not. How would they know to send you a message, if they didn’t know that you were once again at home for months at a time without even having the courtesy of sending a message to the plantation manager about your supposed illness?’


  Rajnath gasped. His mouth was fell open. ‘But . . . ’

  ‘But indeed,’ Llewellyn-Jones said.

  ‘I was in work and they sent for me and . . . ’

  ‘And what? I put it to you, Mr Singh, that you are one of many. A malingerer. Hoping to gain where you have not worked. Sending fraudulent medical certificates, for all we know.’

  ‘Objection!’ Guppy was on his feet again.

  ‘Get on with it!’ the judge boomed again.

  ‘If he was really ill, Your Honour,’ Llewellyn-Jones said, ‘Mr Singh would have been in the hospital. The Plantation Hospital is there for illness. The plantation manager would have sent him there. Furthermore, there is no record of this malingerer ever going there, despite claims of having tuberculosis, and miraculously recovering. Then pneumonia. This is too much, and stinks of lies, disobeying the ordinances, disrespect of the law of the land, and sheer laziness. What will it be next, if we allow this to continue amongst these Indians?’

  ‘I don’t remember any of it,’ Rajnath blurted.

  ‘You don’t remember any of it! Because you were not at work. I rest my case, Your Honour,’ Llewellyn-Jones boomed. ‘No more questions.’

  Back in Granville, it was night-time, and Parbatee woke up shivering in the hammock where she had fallen asleep, when a blast of wind whistled through the yard. She got up and went inside, rolled herself up in the blanket and fell asleep again until the cocks began to crow. For a moment, she forgot all her worries, thinking her husband had already left for work. He had done that once before when she was very ill. But there were none of the usual sounds of the three men who lived in the house, and slowly reality dawned on her. She remembered she was there alone. She hurried to the boys’ bedroom to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Empty. They were not yet back.

  Devinia spoke to her children about the visit she had had from Amrit Dass.

  ‘He wants to help us,’ she said. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘I’m not sure about it, Ma,’ Etwar said, frowning. ‘Strange. Why would they want to help us? Didn’t Pa cancel the wedding? Surely they would be annoyed.’

  ‘He had a kind sort of look,’ his mother said. ‘And it isn’t a job in the cane fields or hard work. It’s in his business – indoors. They have a big store in San Fernando.’

  ‘I’ll go,’ Amina said. ‘Pa was right in the first place. If I hadn’t tried so hard to go against what he wanted, maybe he wouldn’t have died. I made him agree with me, and now karma is punishing me back. I will go – and whatever I earn, I will send it home for you and Ma, Etwar.’

  ‘Saturday,’ Devinia said. ‘Saturday is when he wants you there. We will come with you. Start packing up your things.’

  ‘I don’t think that is a good idea,’ Etwar said worriedly. ‘Talk to Mr Clifford first.’

  ‘I know what he’ll say. But I’m doing the right thing. I was being selfish, trying to change our traditions. I want to please Pa, if he can see me now.’ Amina broke down and cried so loudly that Fluffy jumped up and ran off.

  ‘Mr Dass even said that he will save your wages for you and send you to England to study to be a doctor,’ her mother said proudly.

  ‘You’re not thinking straight,’ Etwar argued. ‘Neither of you. Pa was wrong. The best thing he did was realise that. Besides, why would this Mr Dass come and offer you a job when Pa cancelled the wedding – and send you to be a doctor? This doesn’t ring true at all.’

  ‘Sometimes you have to trust people,’ Devinia said.

  ‘And sometimes you have to think about who to trust,’ Etwar responded.

  FIFTY-ONE

  The day dragged on for Parbatee, as she worried that her husband and sons had still not returned home from Port of Spain. Then late that afternoon she saw her husband and younger son enter the yard in silence. From the first glance at Kamal, Parbatee knew something was very wrong.

  ‘There was nothing I could do,’ her husband said bitterly, dropping his bag on the table. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, staring intently into his eyes, trying to read his face. ‘What happened?’

  ‘The lawyer said that nobody told him that Rajnath couldn’t remember he was ill.’

  ‘What does that have to do with it? Where is my son?’

  Annan looked at his mother. ‘I’m here, Ma.’

  ‘Not you!’ she said. ‘Where is my eldest son?’ Parbatee repeated.

  ‘He has gone to jail,’ Annan said, in an unusually subdued tone.

  Parbatee dropped to the ground and began to weep. ‘He never deserved jail.’

  ‘I told them to take me instead, but they wouldn’t,’ Annan said. ‘It’s always the good ones that get the bad things happen to them.’

  ‘What are you saying? You stupid boy!’ Parbatee yelled. ‘You think that would help me?’

  ‘If anyone deserves to be in jail,’ the boy said, ‘it’s me. The things I get up to! Raj is the hardworking one – and he is the one gets punished. You know why? Because he told the truth. Me? I would’ve lied.’

  ‘How is he?’ Parbatee said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Kamal said. ‘They just took him away.’

  ‘How long for?’ she asked.

  ‘They give him the minimum fine for leaving the estate without a pass. Five dollars. That is more than a month’s pay. And two months in jail.’

  ‘Oh, Sita Ram, that will finish him,’ she wailed.

  ‘The lawyer says he will appeal,’ Kamal told her. ‘But that will cost money.’

  ‘We must pay it, and try to get him out,’ Parbatee said. ‘How soon?’

  ‘Ma, by the time they appeal, it will be time for him to come out,’ Annan said.

  When Devinia woke up the next morning, Amina had already left the house. She spent that day getting her daughter’s clothes washed, ironed and packed for Saturday. She woke Etwar to do his chores, and gave him a brown paper bag with some lunch for his sister. When he returned home from school that afternoon, he assumed that Amina had come back home for lunch.

  ‘No, Ma,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see her all day.’

  ‘Maybe she went to visit one of her friends.’

  ‘Or all of them,’ Etwar said. ‘If she is going on Saturday, she won’t see them for a long time.’

  It was after dark when Amina returned home that day, and Devinia was worried, but no doubt the girl had been to see Sumati and the others to tell them she was going away on Saturday.

  ‘I’ve decided,’ Amina said. ‘If I’m going, I want to leave tomorrow. You have everything packed, what’s the point of waiting?’

  No amount of discussion or argument could change Amina’s mind. She was adamant, and in the end Devinia gave in.

  Early the next morning, Devinia and Amina caught the Mail bus from Syphoo Junction. They both wandered around looking for the house, trying to remember Amrit’s directions. Amina spotted the big white-stone building of the Carnegie Library in San Fernando, and marvelled about the interior being full of books. She longed to step inside just to take a peek but it was too early. The library did not open until 9am.

  ‘Ma, can we just walk around?’ she asked. ‘The town is so different from Granville.’

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘I think I do,’ Amina replied.

  Devinia noticed the excited look in her daughter’s eyes. It was a look of freedom that she herself had been denied, having married so young, but she was content to enjoy what life she could through Amina’s happiness.

  ‘I think I’ll really like being here,’ the girl continued. ‘Look at the size of the library. I wonder how many books are in there. I could spend all my spare time reading them. I even like the sounds and smells of this place.’

  ‘The smells?’

  ‘I smell roast corn, and curry, and fried channa, and the sea, and business hustle-bustle, all mixed in.’

  ‘I smell a cow pen,’ Devinia smiled. ‘But I know what you’re saying.’

  ‘Even th
e trees are different. And there are flowers in everybody’s front yards. We plant kitchen garden in our front yards. Some of these houses look like palaces. But some look abandoned.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ her mother asked.

  ‘Desolate – as if no one lives there any longer. Wouldn’t it be nice to have one of those?’

  ‘You’re dreaming again, child. How will we ever do that now?’

  Devinia’s heart was breaking as she watched Amina stare longingly around her – the high stone houses standing on large plots of land across the road from the marketplace where vendors were busy setting up their stalls. The girl looked as though she was in the middle of a dream come true, with everything she could ever imagine all around her – pretty saris, glittering sandals, colourfully painted enamelled pots and pans and fabrics, from men’s suiting to cheap and cheerful pink knicker-cotton. The smell of food made her hungry. ‘Can we buy something to eat?’ Amina asked.

  ‘I brought our own.’ Devinia reached in her bag and pulled out a roti and pumpkin wrap.

  While she walked, she spotted the police station and remembered that Rajnath had intended to report his uncle; she wondered if he had done so. Could there be anything more evil than taking advantage of a young girl such as Sumati?

  ‘I’m glad I’m not pretty,’ Amina said out of the blue.

  Devinia was startled.

  ‘Who told you that? You’re my daughter, and very good-looking. Take care of yourself – and watch out for men here who try to take advantage. But I think you’ll be safe with Mr Dass and his family. They care about people.’

  ‘I’ll come home and bring you the money I earn. In a way I’m glad I’m doing this,’ Amina told her mother. ‘It makes me feel useful. You never let me help at home. Maybe some time in the future I will get a chance to go back to school. But I have to do this first – for you and Etwar. For us.’

  Devinia pulled her close. ‘Look for the Colonial Hospital on the hill. The house is near there.’