Cinnamon Gardens

by Shyam Selvadurai

  “What about your father? He will never want to set eyes on this grandson. How can you subject the boy to this?”

  “I will explain that his grandfather may not accept him at first, but will ultimately have to come to terms with his presence here. That he must not let his grandfather stand in the way of his happiness.”

  At the same time, Balendran knew the role a grandchild fulfilled in the Mudaliyar’s life. A grandson was a continuance of his lineage, the aristocratic blood of his family. According to his father, Seelan would never fulfil this function as his blood was tainted. An image of his son with the Mudaliyar’s favourite horse, Nellie, came into his mind. Whenever Nellie won at the Colombo or Nuwara Eliya races, it was Lukshman whom the Mudaliyar invited to lead Nellie past the grandstand and receive the applause of the spectators. Balendran had seen the absolute pride in his father’s eyes as he had looked at Lukshman, so handsome as he bowed charmingly to the grandstand.

  “And his mother?” Sonia said, interrupting his thoughts. “I doubt she will be happy to let him come, given the way her husband was treated by his own family.”

  Balendran nodded. “Her reaction to the suggestion of her son coming here was, of course, cautious. But, being wise, I feel she would do nothing to dissuade him from pursuing what he wants.”

  Balendran turned to his wife. “And I will ensure to the best of my ability that, for the sake of my brother, my nephew has all the advantages Lukshman would enjoy. I will help Seelan in his endeavours wherever he may see that they lie.”

  That evening, Balendran and Sonia sat, hands clasped, discussing their plans for their nephew, closer to each other than they had been in a long time.

  21

  Seas may whelm, but men of character

  Will stand like the shore.

  – The Tirukkural, verse 989

  The escalating tensions between the Minerva Hiring Company and its taxi drivers had taken a new direction. Faced with an intractable management, the taxi drivers, under the advice of the Labour Union, had gone on strike. For the first time in Ceylon, a boycott had also been organized. It was directed at any business that supported the taxi company and, as a result, a chain of petrol sheds found themselves blacklisted.

  One morning, Annalukshmi was alone in the staff room, correcting students’ exercise books, when the groundskeeper put his head in through the door and said, “Where is Principal Nona, missie?”

  “She’s teaching.”

  “Aiyo, missie, there’s two police mahattayas at the gate.”

  “Policemen?” Annalukshmi stood up. “What do they want?”

  “To see the Principal Nona.”

  Mr. Jayaweera had gone on an errand to the bank, so Annalukshmi felt that she should go and invite the policemen to come inside. She put the cap back on her pen. “Go to the senior classroom block and tell the Nona. I will let them in.”

  As Annalukshmi left the staff room, she wondered what trouble had brought the police to the school. When she reached the gate, she grew a little alarmed. For there, on the other side, was the Inspector General of Police, an Englishman notorious for his cruelty. She recognized him from pictures she had seen of him in the newspapers. Another policeman was with him, of low rank, Annalukshmi could tell, from the way he stood at attention looking straight ahead of him.

  The inspector was obviously irritated with having been kept waiting, as he snapped at her, “I ask for Miss Lawton and I get every other person in the school.”

  Annalukshmi opened the gate and said, her voice catching slightly, “I have sent the groundskeeper for her.”

  She noticed that the inspector smiled slightly, pleased that she was nervous.

  They had nearly reached the building that housed the office when she saw Miss Lawton hurrying across the quadrangle, followed by the groundskeeper. When Miss Lawton reached them, the inspector’s demeanour changed and he became courteous. “I am terribly sorry to take you away from your class, madam, but this is a matter of some urgency.”

  “Indeed,” Miss Lawton said, still breathless. She indicated for them to go inside.

  Annalukshmi followed and seated herself in the staff room. She picked up an exercise book, but her ears were attuned to the murmur of voices behind the closed door of the headmistress’s office. After a few moments, Miss Lawton gave a little cry and Annalukshmi heard her say, “Oh no, inspector, that can’t be so. I’m sure Mr. Jayaweera is not involved.”

  She did not hear the inspector’s reply.

  Annalukshmi felt a fear come over her. She thought of the ongoing taxi strike. Was Mr. Jayaweera involved in labour unrest again? She contemplated going to the gate and waiting for him there to warn him of the presence of the police. Yet, even as she deliberated this, the school bell rang announcing the end of the period. She had a class of girls waiting for her and she had no choice but to gather her books and leave the staff room.

  For the rest of the morning, Annalukshmi found it difficult to conduct her lessons with much attention. What did the police want with him? The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if Mr. Jayaweera had involved himself in this taxi strike. She felt a sense of dread.

  By lunchtime, the entire school knew of the inspector’s visit. Annalukshmi returned to the staff room to find all the teachers in an excited state, discussing what had happened in lowered voices as they gathered their belongings to go home for lunch. Annalukshmi was dismayed to learn that, upon his return, the police had taken Mr. Jayaweera away for questioning. None of the teachers seemed to know why, or what it was that he had done. Nancy was in the staff room and she indicated, with a slight nod, for Annalukshmi to follow her outside.

  The moment they were walking across the quadrangle, Nancy said, “Miss Lawton has told me everything. It seems that the taxi strike turned violent last evening. A stone was thrown into a taxi and it blinded a woman in one eye.”

  Annalukshmi drew in her breath in dismay.

  “The wife of an Australian mayor.”

  They both looked at each other, understanding the significance of this. If it had been a Ceylonese woman, the implications would not have been so grave. But with a European woman, something else was at stake. The honour of European men. No wonder the Inspector General of Police himself had come by the school.

  “The police say Vijith’s brother threw the stone. They went to his house last night to arrest him. There was a scuffle and he managed to escape. The police think Vijith knows where his brother is. I’m scared that he’s got himself involved again.”

  Annalukshmi took her friend’s hand. “I don’t blame you for being worried, but let’s not get upset until we know for certain what’s going on.”

  That afternoon, as Annalukshmi was conducting a rehearsal of As You Like It under the trees at the edge of the quadrangle, she saw Mr. Jayaweera come in through the school gate. She put one of her students in charge and went quickly towards him. He had seen her and he waited for her at the steps that led into the staff room. As she came up to him, she saw, from the grim expression on his face, that his time at the police station had been extremely unpleasant.

  “Rosa has saved some lunch for you,” she said. “Perhaps you should go and have something to eat.”

  “Thank you, but I am not hungry.”

  “Then you must at least have a cup of tea. I’ll send one of my girls to get you one.”

  She started to go away and he said softly, “Miss Annalukshmi.”

  She turned back to him.

  “I would like to protect Nancy from this. The situation is not good. After police station, I went to my brother’s house to talk with the people there. Last night, police did not even knock on the door. Just broke it down and came inside. My brother jumped from the window and was running away, but they shot him in arm. The people in the house found blood on the road this morning.”

  Annalukshmi looked at him, horrified. “My God, this is terrible.”

  Mr. Jayaweera looked at his hands. “I think I know where
my brother is. He told me if ever he was in trouble he would go to hide in a certain house in Pettah.”

  “Do you think your brother is guilty?”

  “No, but that is not the question. Knowing my brother was in prison once for labour problems, police have chosen easy victim. But I cannot stand by again and let my brother go to prison for something he did not do. I have found out he was seen at Labour Union meeting last night when incident occurred. If I go to him I risk leading police to his door.”

  “You shouldn’t take that chance, Mr. Jayaweera.”

  “But he is hurt. I don’t know if he has had wound attended. It’s better that the police find him alive than dead.”

  “When we were in Malaya,” Annalukshmi said, “there were sometimes bandits on the road from Kuala Lumpur to our rubber estate. Once, my father, who always travelled with a pistol in his car, shot one of them in the leg. Days later, my sisters and I found the man dead in the forest near the estate. It was the terrible foul smell that led us to his hiding place. His leg had turned black and festered from gangrene. If your brother has not had treatment for his wound, he will indeed need it soon.”

  The next morning, when Annalukshmi arrived at the school, she found a student at the gate with a message from Nancy. She was to go immediately to the chapel and meet her there. She hurried up the path that led to the chapel. When she entered, she found Nancy sitting in one of the pews, her arms folded to her chest, rocking back and forth. Nancy heard Annalukshmi enter and she turned and beckoned to her urgently. Annalukshmi went and sat down by her side.

  “What has happened?” Annalukshmi asked.

  “It’s Vijith. He hasn’t come to school today.”

  A feeling of foreboding began to creep through Annalukshmi.

  “Perhaps he’s just late,” she said lamely.

  “He’s never late. In fact, he’s always the first to arrive.”

  Annalukshmi pressed her friend’s hand. “It’s nothing,” she said, trying to convince herself and Nancy. “With the taxi strike, the trams and buses are also delayed.”

  “Miss Lawton sent the groundskeeper to his house in Pettah to find out what is wrong. I promised him some money to come and tell me first. I’ve been waiting in here for more than an hour.”

  At that moment, they heard someone enter the chapel. The groundskeeper was walking quickly towards them. The expression on his face told them that something unfortunate had happened.

  Nancy stood up and went to meet him in the aisle. Annalukshmi followed, her hands cold.

  “Aiyo, missie,” he said. “What a thing. Jayaweera mahattaya went out last night and never came back.”

  Nancy froze.

  “Did anyone say where he might have gone?” Annalukshmi asked, even though she feared that she knew.

  The groundskeeper shook his head. “He left late at night when everyone was asleep.”

  Annalukshmi tried to hide her dismay from her friend.

  Nancy had, however, seen something in Annalukshmi’s eyes. She pressed a coin into the groundskeeper’s hand and he bowed and left the chapel. She now turned to Annalukshmi and grasped her tightly by the arm. “You know something, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know anything for certain, Nancy, but yesterday he told me he thought he knew where his brother was.”

  “You should have told me,” Nancy cried. “I would have pleaded with him not to go. I would have tried to make him see sense.”

  “He told me his brother had been shot by the police. He had to stop him from going to prison again for something he did not –” Annalukshmi, seeing Nancy’s surprised expression, stopped short.

  “I have always known that it was something like that,” Nancy said after a moment.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he hadn’t told you.”

  Nancy shook her head. “When you love someone, when you know them intimately, you read their silences. You see how, again and again, they avoid certain subjects. I always wondered why he wasn’t more bitter when speaking of his brother. Now I clearly see that Vijith owes him something important.”

  The school bell now rang announcing the beginning of prayers. As the students and teachers began to file in, Annalukshmi and Nancy walked slowly to the front of the chapel where they would join the other teachers.

  In the period before lunch, a prefect came to Annalukshmi’s class to tell her that Miss Lawton wanted to see her at once. She put the class monitor in charge and left. She was almost at the office when she noticed Nancy also hurrying across the quadrangle. She waited for her friend to catch up. They both stood for a moment, looking at each other, apprehensive.

  The door to the headmistress’s office was open. Miss Lawton was waiting for them. “Come in, girls,” she called out.

  The sober expression on Miss Lawton’s face boded no good. She gestured for them to be seated in the chairs across from the desk and then, rather than sitting down herself, she came and stood in front of them, leaning against the desk. “I’m afraid it’s not good news,” she said. “I wanted to tell you right away.”

  Annalukshmi glanced at her friend, whose knuckles were white from gripping the arms of the chair.

  “The police have been watching Mr. Jayaweera. Last night he left his house in Pettah and they followed him to where his brother was hiding. They’ve taken both of them to the police station, where they’re being held in custody.”

  Nancy and Annalukshmi looked at each other.

  “I’ve had a long talk with the Inspector General of Police,” Miss Lawton continued. “I don’t think they are going to be able to indict the brother for the blinding of that poor, innocent woman, more’s the pity. It seems he has gone and got himself a very strong alibi. The entire Labour Union is willing to swear themselves blue that he was at a meeting. It is likely that Mr. Jayaweera will therefore soon be released.”

  Nancy slowly breathed out and relaxed back in her chair.

  “This is such a relief to hear,” Annalukshmi said.

  Miss Lawton was twisting a pencil between her fingers. After a moment, she looked up at them. “This will, of course, end Mr. Jayaweera’s career here.”

  They stared at her in shock “But why should that be?” Annalukshmi cried. “He hasn’t committed a crime.”

  “There is no crime, surely, in helping your brother,” Nancy said, her voice shaking.

  “You have to understand my situation. You know what a small place Colombo is. No sooner was Mr. Jayaweera taken away for questioning yesterday than I had a telephone call from someone on the missionary board who had heard about it from someone with whom he plays golf. I was advised to seriously consider the reputation of the school. It’s been only a matter of hours since Mr. Jayaweera has been taken into custody, and I have already received a call from an important benefactor to this school. It is impossible to keep him on here. By tomorrow, his name and the place where he works will probably be in all the newspapers.”

  “But what about his family! How are they to manage?” Annalukshmi said.

  “Mr. Jayaweera should have thought of them before he got involved with his brother again.”

  “But his brother was wounded. What would you –”

  “My hands are tied, Anna. Even if I wanted to give Mr. Jayaweera a chance, I couldn’t. I blame myself for this in a way. I should never have hired someone who –”

  “Stop!” Nancy cried and stood up.

  Annalukshmi and Miss Lawton looked at Nancy. Her eyes were filled with tears.

  “Nancy?” Miss Lawton touched her shoulder.

  At this, Nancy turned her head and brushed her cheek with her hand.

  Miss Lawton stared at her, puzzled as to why the usually unperturbed Nancy was in such a state. She glanced at Annalukshmi questioningly, but Annalukshmi looked away from her.

  “What is all this about?” Miss Lawton said, holding Nancy’s hands. “Nancy, answer me.”

  “There is something you should know … Vijith – Mr. Jayaweera – is in trou
ble so I must be free to help him.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Nancy was silent. “That Vijith and I have deep feelings for each other.”

  Miss Lawton went to the other side of the desk and sat down.

  “Oh? And how long have you both known this?”

  “For a while.”

  Miss Lawton suddenly pushed her chair back from the desk and stood up. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses? This man has nothing to offer you. A poor clerk, with a family to support. I didn’t bring you up a good Christian to have you give yourself to this.”

  “I have thought about all this,” Nancy said, looking Miss Lawton straight in the eye.

  “Your Mr. Jayaweera is now an unemployed clerk who has had a tangle with the law. Have you thought about that as well?”

  Nancy sat down. “I understand how you must feel. But please promise you will try to understand my feelings.”

  “Do not ask me to condone an alliance that will ultimately make you unhappy. I cannot do that.” Miss Lawton straightened the collar of her dress. “I beg you to stop seeing him.”

  A silence fell among them. The school choir could be heard practising, their voices drifting across from the senior classroom block. Feeling uncomfortable, Annalukshmi quickly excused herself and left the room.

  She came out into the quadrangle. A wind had picked up and was blowing leaves and scraps of paper around her. The sky had darkened in patches. This was, as the newspapers had been predicting, the precursor to the monsoon. In the distance, she could hear the sea, now stormy, waves thundering against the rocks. She slowly began to make her way across the deserted quadrangle towards her classroom. As she walked along, a tin can blown by the wind rattled along in front of her, as if leading the way.

  22

  A thoughtless foray only dresses

  The enemy’s field for him.