Dark Diamond

by Shazia Omar

  ‘I hear from my father that you are a collector of diamonds,’ he said politely.

  ‘Ah, well, not exactly. I am here to conduct an empirical enquiry,’ Madeline said.

  ‘She wants to know about Kollur diamonds,’ Jalal piped in.

  Mumin’s eyes blazed with excitement. ‘What distinguishes Golcondan diamonds from the vast majority of other diamonds is that they are pure carbon, devoid of nitrogen which present in other diamonds, lends stones a slightly yellowish tinge. As a result, diamonds from Golconda have a clear, transparent nature that makes them look like ice cubes. This is not to suggest that Kollur diamonds are always colourless. Occasionally, they are brown or pink, and still rarer are those infused with a delicate blush of blue or gray. They sell at three times the price of diamonds from other mines but really they are priceless.’ He blushed. ‘I am afraid I have said too much? I must be boring you.’

  She had never met anyone as interested in the mineral aspect of diamonds as herself. Despite his unimpressive appearance, this man was learned. Madeline opened her notebook. ‘Please, tell me more.’

  ‘There are 23 mines in Golconda, 15 in Bijapur. There is one in Kollur that is special.’

  ‘Have you been to it?’ Madeline asked, hanging on to every word. There was something endearing about this man.

  ‘I have been to the secret mine,’ he said. ‘It lies beyond the Valley of the Moon.’

  Goosebumps rose on Madeline’s arms. ‘Can you show me on a map?’

  ‘No maps mark the whereabouts,’ said Mumin cautiously. ‘Are you a cartographer?’

  ‘No, a natural philosopher,’ she said. ‘It is of utmost importance to the medical world that you help me find the mines. The Deccan diamonds have healing properties that I must document for humanity.’ Her lies were becoming increasingly outlandish.

  Mumin seemed to believe her story. He nodded empathetically. ‘The Ruby Monkeys can help you with your noble pursuit but Chatgaon is far from here.’

  ‘What a fortunate coincidence, Chatgaon is where I am headed tomorrow!’ said Madeline. Everything was falling into place. Luck was turning in her favour.

  Jalal produced two cups of masala serbet.

  ‘Shall I send a pigeon with word ahead then,’ offered Mumin. ‘Telling them you are on your way and have requested a meeting.’

  ‘Thank you ever so much!’ gushed Madeline.

  ‘I travelled with a gem merchant who was a guest of the Emperor himself,’ said Mumin. ‘We travelled blindfolded. I brought one diamond back.’

  Jalal held out the diamond on cue.

  Madeline gazed at it lovingly as though it were her first born.

  ‘With the sale of this diamond, I intend to pay for my son’s wedding. What say you, Mumin?’ Jalal ruffled his son’s hair.

  Mumin offered a weak smile.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Madeline politely.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Mumin.

  Jalal nudged him to speak up.

  Mumin blushed. ‘I’m not very charming,’ he explained. ‘Women find me boring.’

  ‘Not at all! You are lovely,’ Madeline blurted out.

  Mumin blushed more.

  ‘She said you’re lovely!’ said Jalal, slapping him on the back.

  Madeline blushed too. What had gotten into her? The strangeness in the air had loosened her bearings.

  ‘The finest diamond is not in Golconda,’ said Mumin. ‘It is right here in Bengal.’

  ‘This one?’ asked Madeline, gazing at his precious stone.

  Mumin chuckled. ‘Much finer than this one,’ he said. ‘It is known as Kalinoor.’ He glanced around. ‘Hauntingly beautiful but it brings bad luck to its owners.’

  ‘Who is its owner?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘The Subedar of course,’ said Jalal.

  Madeline was unable to contain her surprise. She chatted a bit longer then thanked Mumin and his father for the serbet and headed back to the ship.

  Her poor father had been imprisoned by King Louis for selling him fake pearls that he had meant to present to Madam de Maintenant for their wedding. To secure her father’s liberty, Madeline had promised King Louis a map of the secret Kollur mines. France had yet to penetrate the diamond market. Tavernier was the only European with this information but he wasn’t sharing it with anyone — especially not the King, now that he had fallen out of favour with the court. There was room for someone with ingenuity to make a name for himself. Or herself, as the case may be.

  CHAPTER 38

  C

  hampa awoke in a most glorious garden. Around her blazing krishnachuras, shy lilacs, brooding jobas, cheerful hibiscus and elegant dalias vied for attention. A nearby fountain tinkled. Crickets chirped. The night was cool. She could smell rajni gandhas in bloom. Was this Heaven?

  ‘You have been unconscious for three hours,’ said a voice. ‘Are you alright?’

  It was the Subedar. He was not far away. Seated on a tree stump, he rubbed a burnt hand and watched over her. They were alone.

  She wiped the soot from her face and stared at him. In his eyes she saw burning books and she remembered all that had transpired. Guru Ma ... Her father ... She began to sob.

  ‘I have asked my guards to give them proper burials,’ said the Subedar.

  ‘You cannot quell debate through violence!’ Champa lashed out. ‘Killing makes you a murderer. Judging them makes you judgmental too. You rule with your false self not your heart.’

  ‘I have made Bengal what it is today, an open and inclusive cosmopolitan of commerce and culture. Look at our growth.’

  ‘Your growth means nothing to me. I live in the Alley among the squalid and forgotten. Your opulence is nauseating, built on the bones of defeated kingdoms. You pursue destruction. You forget that the purpose of life is not division, it is unity.’

  The Subedar lowered his head.

  ‘You killed my father!’ she shouted.

  ‘This is not what I wanted,’ he said, saturated with her reproach. ‘I am trying to save Bengal.’

  ‘As if one man can hold back the tides of Destiny. Bengal will rise and fall and rise again, with or without you. Don’t delude yourself,’ said Champa.

  ‘It is my destiny to destroy.’

  ‘Not your destiny. Your curse.’

  ‘My curse?’

  ‘You were once a Sufi, my Lord. I saw it in your memories. Get rid of Kalinoor. It has cast a shadow on your perspective. Release darkness and let the light of God illuminate. Violence is not the path of Love.’

  ‘Love?’

  ‘Dialogue, education, love.’

  ‘Did you love him very much?’ asked Shayista.

  Champa nodded. ‘Did you love Pari?’

  ‘More than life itself.’ He looked lost. ‘I built this fort for her.’ He began to sob.

  This Champa had not expected. The Tiger of Bengal was crying stretched out over a floral tile in his garden? Her anger abated and soon she was crying too.

  ‘Forgive me, Champa,’ he said. ‘Forgive me.’

  She saw the tatters of his separation and the suffering he bore. In the end, he had tried to rescue her and her school. ‘No, my Lord, you need not apologize to me.’

  ‘Shayista,’ he said. ‘I’m Shayista.’

  ‘You are Talib,’ she replied. ‘Talib.’

  ‘With the blood on my scroll, I can never be Talib again.’

  ‘It is not too late to redeem yourself. Rule not with your sword but your heart. Promise me?’ She lowered her eyelashes and opened his eyes.

  Shayista nodded solemnly. He handed her a book he had saved from the fire. The Travels of Ibn Battuta.

  ‘Marium’s favourite,’ said Champa.

  ‘I know,’ he replied. ‘I heard you the other day. Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’ said Champa.

  ‘You are right,’ he said.

  ‘And Kalinoor?’ she said, heavy hearted.

  ‘I will destroy it.’

  She nodded, betra
ying her grandfather whose lifelong quest had been to find the dark diamond.

  CHAPTER 39

  S

  hayista’s dream was fitful. He saw the mighty treasury of Bengal emptied of its magnificence, one hundred English ships laden with loot. He saw mullahs armed with guns and orthodoxy killing liberty and knowledge. He saw veiled girls dancing behind burning manuscripts. He felt his soul being rattled by a djinn then realized it was Dhand shaking him awake.

  He was lying in his garden. The pain in his burnt hand throbbed. Champa was gone, only her shawl on his bench.

  ‘Sire, you have a visitor,’ said Dhand. ‘It’s that Dutch friend of yours. Says it is urgent.’

  Shayista rubbed his eyes. His arms and legs ached, his back was sore. His stomach grumbled as he stumbled to the hall.

  Van Diemen was waiting, dressed in silk pyjamas and a pink turban with a peacock feather. ‘My Lord, I have disturbing news,’ he said. ‘An English flotilla arrived in Chatgaon today. They intend to form an alliance with the Magh Raja.’

  Shayistan could not believe his ears. Was Kalinoor behind this ludicrous reality? He beckoned Dhand. ‘I leave the fortress in your capable hands,’ he said. ‘I am going on a sea excursion.’

  ‘Shall I ready the navy?’ asked Dhand.

  ‘No need,’ said Shayista. There wasn’t time to prepare for war. He would have to outwit the English rather than outfight them. He grabbed Van Diemen’s arm. ‘Vroomen, we’re going on a trip.’ Cursed or not, no diamond was going to destroy Bengal. Come what may.

  CHAPTER 40

  A

  tangerine sun stretched out its arms and kissed the sky. Morning larks sang tunes of hope. Black-capped kingfishers soared in freedom. Silver hilsa swam in bliss. Pink-headed ducks gathered to gossip. A kingfisher dove into the water and emerged with a hilsa wriggling in its beaks.

  Madeline waved goodbye to Dacca as she reviewed her accomplishments. From Mumin she had learned of the Ruby Monkey’s whereabouts in Chatgaon but somehow, the local air was starting to change her. She almost didn’t care so much for her mission. She almost felt she could abandon her past and be a new person.

  Leaning against the rails of Belo Diabo, dressed in a silk choli fringed with pearls, a bindi on her forehead, lapping in the melancholy of waves and fading city din, the options seemed endless. Perhaps she needn’t return to France. She could stay, marry Mumin? O Bengal of endless possibilities.

  She spotted the Subedar and an effete European man approaching the ship in a skiff. Captain Costa greeted them and soon Madeline learned they were coming along to Chatgaon. There was a diplomatic matter that needed the Subedar’s urgent attention. This caused no delay as the Subedar had come with only a small bag carried by a man servant and the European seemed to have no belongings with him whatsoever.

  The Subedar greeted her and introduced his scrupulously groomed friend as Vroomen Van Dieman.

  Captain Costa hurled profanities at his crew as they skilfully navigated the ship out of the harbour and into the river. Lal Bagh Fort receded like a weeping rose on the riverbank. What once seemed impenetrable now seemed fragile.

  Madeline’s hat shaded her eyes and allowed her to watch the handsome Subedar unnoticed. He whistled a doleful tune. His European friend and Costa were discussing the journey.

  ‘How long will it take to reach Chatgaon?’ she asked. Her emerald bangles clinked as she moved.

  ‘Ten days,’ replied Costa. ‘Two weeks if weather is rough.’

  ‘What is Chatgaon like?’ asked Madeline.

  ‘Green hills, gentle valleys, wild beasts,’ said Subedar Khan.

  ‘Wild beasts?’ Madeline paled.

  ‘Cheetahs, tigers, elephants, boars,’ said Subedar Khan.

  ‘And savages,’ said Captain Costa.

  ‘Savages?’ said Madeline.

  ‘Maghs from Arakan,’ said Costa. ‘Yellow livered skunks with Eastern eyes.’

  ‘If they catch you, they’ll pierce your palms and pass a cane through the holes and then throw you onto a field to do their tilling,’ added Van Dieman.

  ‘Probably cannibals,’ said Costa.

  ‘Is it true?’ Madeline asked the Subedar.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Subedar Khan nodded. ‘They’re a simple tribe but violent. No scruples to trouble them.’

  ‘Notorious for slave trade,’ said Captain Costa. ‘Kidnapped Bengalis to sell to the Dutch East India Company.’

  Van Diemen shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘Mon dieux!’ said Madeline, nauseous.

  ‘Not any more,’ said the Subedar. ‘Raja is loyal to us now.’

  Madeline noticed the Subedar and the Dutchman exchange an uneasy glance. She wondered if the Ruby Monkeys were Maghs. Would they help her find the mines or simply eat her up for supper?

  Abdul appeared with a tray of goblets and a bottle of rum.

  Costa poured out goblets for Van Diemen, Shayista and himself. ‘To treasure,’ he toasted.

  ‘If its treasure you’re after, best find yourself a map to the Kollur mines!’ said Van Diemen, draining his goblet.

  Madeline disliked him immediately. She’d have to keep an eye on this one.

  The first couple of days of sailing passed pleasantly enough. Madeline studied her books, Captain Costa and the Dutchman got drunk, the Subedar was lost in thought. No one seemed to notice that she had abandoned her fontage or her wig. No one seemed to care if she wore no cosmetics.

  The third evening, after they had anchored, there was something magical in the air: the stillness of the bay, the starlit night, the glimmering waves of the majestic sea. A light breeze swept Madeline’s hair. Tranquility caressed her soul.

  ‘How about a swim,’ suggested Costa. ‘Last of the sweet water. By tomorrow we will be pickled in salt.’

  The Subedar agreed.

  ‘A dip in the dark?’ asked Van Diemen. ‘You must be mad.’ With that he pranced back to his cabin for the night.

  Shayista and Costa moved to the side of the ship to disrobe. Costa shed his cloak, tunic and breeches. The Subedar removed his weapons, chain mail and clothing, leaving only a slender dagger strapped to his thigh. Madeline’s voyeuristic eyes gazed at them from a distance, admiring Bagh Khan’s chiselled physique and muscular pectorals. His body was as devastated by scars as his face. Many times he must have faced death.

  The men dove into the cold water, yelping. The heat of the day dissolving as the water embraced them.

  Madeline longed for cool water on her skin. After a tussle between reason and passion, she decided she would not live as a caged bird. Women too should enjoy a swim now and then. To their surprise, she jumped in, dress and all.

  A vigorous current carried them far from the ship. Fresh water washed away their sweat and collected discontents. As they splashed, dusk descended and darkness offered a new intimacy. A space for freedom opened up. Soon they were laughing like children, refreshed, renewed, reborn.

  A silent ripple disturbed the water.

  Shayista’s ears perked up. ‘Shhhh.’

  In the darkness, another stir.

  ‘Crocodile,’ said Shayista.

  ‘Where?’ shrieked Madeline.

  ‘Let’s swim back,’ said Costa.

  More ripples as a fearsome snout glided towards them, barely visible in the reflection of the stars.

  ‘Take her back to the ship,’ Shayista ordered.

  ‘Let’s go together,’ said Costa.

  ‘It’s too close,’ said Shayista. ‘I’ll hold it back. Take her.’

  Madeline bit her lips to keep from screaming.

  ‘I don’t know how long I can hold it,’ said Shayista, in a sharp whisper. ‘Swim in zig-zags. Crocodiles only move straight lines. It’ll get confused.’

  ‘How long should I zig before I zag?’ said Costa, reluctant to abandon his friend.

  ‘Go!’ shouted Shayista.

  Costa and Madeline swam towards the ship.

  Shayista took out the dagger at his
thigh and held it above the water, waiting for the menacing snout. In seconds, the crocodile was on him, mouth open in a display of deadly gnashers. He dodged to avoid its jagged jaws, its hundred sharp teeth, then plunged the entire twelve inches of sharp steel into its head, between its two non-blinking eyes.

  The creature reared up above water in maddened pain carrying on its back, Shayista, who held on to the knife with his right hand and the crocodile with his left. Its muscular tail crashed down on Shayista’s head, knocking him under the surface. Submerged, he swallowed a gallon of water but did not release his grip on the dagger. The ebony river smothered him but he managed to resurface, gasping for air. The scuffle continued amid thrashing waves.

  Madeline screamed.

  ‘Keep going,’ ordered Costa, pushing her towards the ship. The current was stronger than it had been earlier. They hadn’t noticed how far they had drifted. Madeline panicked and started to cry.

  ‘Come on,’ Costa swam, dragging her along.

  ‘I cannot believe this is happening!’ she sobbed. She was not a strong swimmer.

  The cloudy night closed in on them, obscuring sight of Shayista and the crocodile. Costa pulled Madeline along to the ship and hoisted her up to the rope ladder on the side. Wet clothes clung to her body. Madeline tried to cover her form with her hand.

  ‘Climb,’ he barked.

  She blushed and clambered up the rope, her pink derriere visible under her skirt. She turned to help him up.

  ‘Get me a blade,’ he yelled.

  She nodded and ran, calling for the crew and returned seconds later, with a cutlass and two pirates. She passed the weapon to Costa.

  ‘Get the skiff,’ he commanded the pirates.

  Madeline watched as the pirates guided the skiff towards Shayista, following his voice as the night’s darkness obscured their vision.

  When they returned to the ship, Madeline embraced Shayista in gratitude.

  ‘Where’s the crocodile?’ she asked.

  ‘Floating downstream,’ replied Shayista. ‘Dead.’