Cinnamon Gardens

by Shyam Selvadurai

  “Aaah,” Miss Lawton said. “That is a tough one, isn’t it?”

  “But other people … you … made a choice.”

  Miss Lawton stood up. “Yes, I made a choice. But choices are never easy.”

  At that moment, the morning newspaper was thrown over the gate and fell onto the front path with a thud. Miss Lawton, rather than waiting for Rosa to get it, went down the verandah steps herself. She picked up the paper and came back, tapping it against the palm of her hand. “You know, Anna,” she said when she reached the verandah steps, “I never tell anyone what to do with their life. I can only explain how it was for me. Then one must decide what one wants to do.” She came up the steps and sat down in her chair again. “I am where I am by choice. And do I regret my decision?” She smiled. “Sometimes. When administrative problems are too bothersome or on the first day of holidays when the school is deserted and forlorn, or at the end of the year when my Senior Cambridge girls, whom I have known as if they were my own, leave, never to return.” She shrugged. “But what life is without its regrets?”

  Kinross Beach was a favourite bathing spot because the proximity of the reef to the shore created a peaceful bay where a swimmer was safe from the currents of the open sea. By the time Miss Lawton, Nancy, and Annalukshmi got there, it was busy, as the morning was a popular time for a swim, before the sun got too hot. The sea was a greyish blue, the cream-coloured sand cool beneath their feet. They found a spot underneath a coconut tree and laid out their mat and picnic basket. Nancy had a proper one-piece bathing suit with a sailor collar, but Annalukshmi, whose mother would never consent to a bathing suit, wore an old sari blouse and a long underskirt. As they hurried down the beach, she was aware that they were the only women about to swim in the sea. The others sat in the shade of the coconut trees, their umbrellas open over them, watching their husbands and sons and brothers frolic in the water and on the beach.

  As Annalukshmi went into the sea, she felt the coolness of the water soak through her blouse and slip, touching her skin underneath like gentle hands. She glanced back up the beach at the other women and it came to her that if she did marry she would end up like them, forced to sit in the shade, only a spectator. Nancy was floating on her back and she called to Annalukshmi to come and join her. With an overwhelming gladness that she was not one of those women, Annalukshmi fell back into the water and gave herself up to the flow of the sea, feeling the waves carry her along towards the shore.

  Once she felt the scrape of sand underneath her, she sat down on the beach, the waves washing around her. Nancy had joined Miss Lawton. Annalukshmi surveyed the beach, and her gaze came to rest on a young man who was playing an impromptu game of cricket with his friends. He was wearing a style of bathing suit that had just become fashionable in Ceylon, a black singlet joined up to a pair of close-fitting shorts, all in one piece. The young man was the wicket keeper and was squatting, waiting for the ball to come towards him. The batsman missed the next all and it landed in the water near Annalukshmi. The young man sprinted towards her, recovered the ball, grinned, said, “Sorry if I disturbed you,” then ran back. In that instant, Annalukshmi saw all she needed to. His handsome face and nice teeth when he smiled, the straps of his suit slightly awry over his smooth chest, the shape of his crotch clearly outlined in the bathing suit. She felt the heat release itself from somewhere in her lower back and spread down her legs. She surreptitiously watched the young man. Before he could field another ball, however, a woman called out to him. He ran up the beach, flung himself on the sand next to her, took her hand, kissed it, and then listened attentively to what she was saying, nodding his head. As Annalukshmi looked at the couple, she knew that this was what she would have to give up if she did not marry. Miss Lawton and Nancy were calling to her and she saw that the picnic breakfast was already laid out. She stood up and began to walk towards them, her slip heavy and cumbersome against her legs, her hair bedraggled and messy down her back.

  “Oh look, Anna,” Miss Lawton called out gaily, “Rosa has made your favourite. Pol roti.”

  The sight of her beloved headmistress reminded Annalukshmi of their conversation early that morning, the fact that no life was without its regrets, that one had to make a choice. She smiled as she sat down next to Nancy and Miss Lawton. She picked up a pol roti and began to munch on it contentedly. Choices had to be made and she was fairly certain now which one was hers.

  Once they had finished their picnic breakfast, Annalukshmi and Nancy went for a walk along the beach to search for unusual seashells. They walked some distance in companionable silence, then Annalukshmi turned to her friend and said, “I have some news. My Aunt Philomena is trying to set me up with a boy.”

  “I’m all ears,” Nancy said with amusement, aware of just how much her friend abhorred these arrangements.

  “His surname is Macintosh.”

  “Grace Macintosh’s brother?”

  Annalukshmi nodded.

  Nancy raised her eyebrows, impressed. “A very good Christian family. Very wealthy as well.” She bent down to pick up a shell. “And is your plan to give up teaching and get married if it works out?”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get married. Instead,” Annalukshmi smiled, “I might lead a life of unmitigated spinsterhood.”

  “Oh?”

  “Like Miss Lawton. She never married, yet you can’t say she isn’t happy. Her life is full of satisfactory things. A school of her own to run, the rewards of girls going on to become doctors and lawyers. Friend, guide, confidante to so many. It seems like a very good life to me.”

  She bent down to dig up an interesting shell out of the sand. As such she did not see the slightly worried expression with which her friend regarded her.

  Once they were walking again, Nancy said, “Yes, Miss Lawton has a good life, but it’s not the only life.”

  “But think of how much one has to give up in marriage,” Annalukshmi said. “Stuck at home all the time. No money of your own. Always having to ask your husband. And what if he is the jealous type, forbids you to leave home or thrashes you?”

  “Not all marriages are like that, not all men are cruel and thoughtless.”

  “He could be a charmer and a deceiver and then what? One can’t very well get divorced, you know. And don’t forget the children,” Annalukshmi continued. “God help you if you are fertile. Remember that poor Zharia Ismail who used to be in our class. Married at sixteen and already five children. She looks like a wrung-out rag.” Annalukshmi stopped walking. “What about you? You’re a modern woman. Would you give up teaching and get married, knowing all the disadvantages?”

  Nancy became serious. “Well so far no one has come around asking. But if it did happen and I loved him, I might consider it.” She turned to her friend. “All I am saying is that Miss Lawton’s way is not the only option.”

  On Monday morning when Annalukshmi arrived at school, she found the teachers in the staff room in excited conversation. “Miss Lawton is talking to Miss Blake’s replacement in her office,” one of the teachers informed Annalukshmi. “No one knows who it is.”

  Annalukshmi glanced at Nancy, who betrayed nothing.

  Just then, the headmistress’s door opened and Miss Lawton came out. “Ladies, ladies,” she said, “I have an announcement to make.”

  The teachers waited expectantly.

  “I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our staff.” Miss Lawton turned and signalled to someone in her office. After a moment, a man appeared in the doorway.

  A rustle went through the staff room.

  “With the departure of our beloved Miss Blake,” Miss Lawton continued, “I have decided to fill in her position not with another teacher from England, but with Mr. Jayaweera here, who will take over most of the clerical and accounting aspects of my work, thus leaving me free to do what I love most. To teach.”

  Annalukshmi studied Mr. Jayaweera. He was tall and well built and she judged him to be about thirty-five years old. Hi
s skin was dark, his jawline sharp. It was a face that she found too angular to be called handsome. There was a reserved, dignified air to him, and Annalukshmi noted that his white drill suit, though neatly pressed, was threadbare. She wondered what misfortune had befallen his family and had caused him to have to work as a clerk.

  The school bell rang to announce that chapel was about to start. Miss Lawton glanced quickly at her watch. “Oh dear, I didn’t realize it was so late.” She looked around at the teachers. “Anna,” she said, “aren’t you free the first period this morning?”

  Annalukshmi nodded.

  “Good. Could you show Mr. Jayaweera to my bungalow? He will be living with us until such time as he finds suitable accommodation in Colombo.”

  Having stayed over so often at the headmistress’s bungalow, Annalukshmi knew that Miss Lawton reserved a special room for gentlemen visitors, travelling preachers, male missionaries who had come into Colombo from outstation on some business, a few English tea-planter friends. The room was outside the bungalow, at the far end of the back verandah, which meant that the male guest did not actually share the house with Miss Lawton and Nancy, thus ensuring propriety on all levels.

  Once Mr. Jayaweera had retrieved his suitcase from Miss Lawton’s office, Annalukshmi led him across the school quadrangle, off which there was a doorway that opened directly into Miss Lawton’s back garden. At first they walked in silence, but the quiet soon became awkward and, to relieve it, Annalukshmi began to point out the various school buildings and tell him what they were. He nodded politely and asked interested questions. Although his English was, for the most part, correct, he spoke with the accent of a Sinhalese person for whom English was not their first language, mispronouncing his “w” as “v,” elongating short vowels, substituting “p” for “f.” And, from time to time, he dropped his “the’s” and “a’s” Annalukshmi, again taking in his shabby suit, felt now that he must be from a poor, rural background and she wondered where he had learnt to speak English. Once she had shown him his room, he bowed slightly and said, “Thank you very much for your kindness.”

  Annalukshmi inclined her head in reply. She left him and returned to the school, as chapel was ending.

  Annalukshmi took the morning roll call in her class, and then returned to the staff room. The door in the back of the room led into Miss Lawton’s office. It was open and Annalukshmi could hear the headmistress reprimanding a student for being habitually late.

  When the student left, Annalukshmi went to stand in the doorway of the office, curious to ask Miss Lawton more about Mr. Jayaweera.

  “All is well, my dear?”

  She nodded.

  “And what do you think of our Mr. Jayaweera?”

  “He seems very pleasant.”

  “I had some reservations about hiring him, but Mr. Wesley, the headmaster of the boys’ mission school in Galle, highly recommended him. He’s an old pupil of his.”

  Annalukshmi now understood why he spoke English fluently.

  “Mr. Jayaweera was working on a tea estate as a clerk,” Miss Lawton continued. “He was fired through no fault of his own.” She grimaced. “Poor man is saddled with a very bad egg, an older brother who is a notorious troublemaker. A member of the Labour Union. The brother, it seems, was paying secret visits to the estate workers, informing them of their so-called rights, urging them to unionize. The workers finally staged a strike, which the head tea planter and the police soon put a stop to. They caught the brother, put him in jail for a month, then packed him off to India. Mr. Jayaweera lost his job as a result. Mr. Wesley assures me that Mr. Jayaweera is not at all interested in the union. A very decent man, really. Supports his widowed mother and two unmarried sisters at great sacrifice to himself.”

  Before Miss Lawton could proceed further, Mr. Jayaweera entered the staff room. “Do come into my office,” Miss Lawton called out. “Let me show you what needs doing before I begin my rounds of the school.”

  Annalukshmi moved away from the doorway and went to sit at the table. She had before her a stack of exercise books that needed correcting and she picked one up and opened it. After a few moments, she found herself studying Mr. Jayaweera with curiosity as he stood talking to Miss Lawton. She had often read accounts in the newspapers maligning the Labour Union and its supporters. Yet she had always found herself admiring those who were outspoken about something they believed passionately, their willingness to make sacrifices for those less fortunate than themselves. Miss Lawton was clearly disapproving of what his brother had done. But, try as she might, Annalukshmi could not bring herself to believe it was wrong. She thought instead what a fine person he would have to be to make such an effort on behalf of the poor estate workers.

  Just then Miss Lawton came into the staff room. “I have given Mr. Jayaweera some work to do, Anna,” she said. “Since you have been helping me with the office work these last few weeks, perhaps you can assist him if he needs anything.”

  Annalukshmi nodded and Miss Lawton left the room.

  Mr. Jayaweera was seated at the desk in Miss Lawton’s office that had been Miss Blake’s. He was reading through the letters that had come in that morning. After a while, he stood up and looked around him uncertainly. Annalukshmi got up and went into the office.

  “Do you have everything you need, Mr. Jayaweera?”

  He had not heard her enter and he started slightly.

  “I have been helping Miss Lawton in her office, so if you need anything please feel free to ask.”

  He held out the letters to her, “Where would I put these, miss?”

  She looked through the correspondence and showed him which ones to file and which ones to put on Miss Lawton’s desk. “Thank you very much,” he said and smiled.

  His smile was open and friendly, inviting conversation.

  “Not at all, Mr. Jayaweera.”

  “Miss is from Jaffna?” he asked, indicating the potu on her forehead and the way she wore her sari, in the Tamil style with the palu wrapped around her waist.

  “No,” Annalukshmi said. “I’m from Colombo. Actually, I’m from Malaya.”

  He looked at her, puzzled, and she explained to him that her father worked in Malaya in the civil service.

  “And you, Mr. Jayaweera?” she asked. “You are from Galle?”

  “No, miss. I went to school in Galle, but I am from small village called Weeragama.”

  Annalukshmi shook her head to say she had not heard of it.

  “It is in south. A very poor area, very dry. Sometimes we have to walk two miles to get water. Through the jungle. It is very dangerous because there are lots of snakes, some of them very poisonous. Even the not-so poisonous ones, when they bite, the pain is something I have never felt before.”

  “Are you telling me that you have been bitten by a snake?”

  “In poor villages it is very common. Fortunately my brother was with me when it happened. It is not good to be alone because it is hard to tie your leg and make the cut.” He smiled at her aghast expression. “First, you have to tie the leg very, very tight above wound. Then you must take a knife and cut V shape with the point of the V on wound and facing towards the heart. That way, the poison will flow out with the blood and not into the rest of your body. Then, you put snake stone on wound.”

  “A snake stone?”

  He nodded, amused by her sceptical yet captivated tone. “Yes. It’s a healing stone. When it is held against the wound, it sticks on and sucks out the poison. Then you boil stone in milk, which becomes black immediately. After that, you can use stone again.”

  “But what makes the stone able to cure a person?”

  “Nobody knows. The stone we have has been in our family many generations.” He smiled. “Some people say that a snake itself vomits it out. But that is just fable.”

  Annalukshmi raised her eyebrows.

  At that moment, Miss Lawton walked in, putting an end to their conversation. Mr. Jayaweera returned to his work, and Annalukshmi went back to
the table. As she took her seat, she glanced at Mr. Jayaweera, even more intrigued by him than she had been before.

  6

  What is stronger than fate which foils

  Every ploy to counter it?

  – The Tirukkural, verse 380

  The gold rush, as F. C. Wijewardena predicted, was in full swing. Two weeks had passed since the Mudaliyar’s birthday. The Donoughmore commissioners had arrived in Ceylon and were happily ensconced at Queen’s House.

  Richard Howland, in Colombo two days, had already received a briefing from the colonial secretary that left him confused and bewildered by the numerous claims and counterclaims of the various groups in Ceylon. He sat at a desk in his room at the Galle Face Hotel, hand on forehead as he went through the notes he had quickly made while talking to the colonial secretary. Though not a large room, it was extremely pleasant, with burma teak flooring and Persian carpets. At one end stood a big four-poster bed with a lace canopy and mosquito netting on all sides. Next to it was an intricately carved antique almirah of tamarind wood against the wall. At the other end of the room was a desk and chair, also of tamarind wood, and, adjacent to it, two wing-back chairs. Despite the fact that his desk was advantageously placed with a wonderful view of the sea, Richard was not cognizant of his surroundings. His mind was on the notes in front of him.

  “What a mess, what a mess,” he murmured.

  He turned to his companion, James Alliston, who stood by the window, looking down at the hotel gardens.

  “This is a nightmare, Alli,” he said. “I didn’t realize just how bloody labyrinthine the whole thing was.”

  “Have you noticed,” Alli replied, “that when the waiters stand in a certain light all is visible through their white sarongs.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Alli,” Richard said. “Don’t you ever listen when I talk?”

  Alli smiled and glanced at his watch. “The love of your life has probably arrived. In fact, he must be down in the foyer as we speak.”