Passage Across the Mersey

by Robert Bhatia

  There was little that Helen could do to speed the resolution of the situation. However, she wrote to Avadh’s Doctor Brother in Delhi, assuring him that she would take good care of his surgical instruments. She explained to Avadh: ‘I thought it might bring it home to him that I am a very real person, waiting for word, and that he might bestir himself again on our behalf. I know you are doing your best and I do trust you most deeply.’

  She then reassured him: ‘I am taking care of myself, because I want to be lovely for you. This thought makes me go to bed, eat my food and keep myself neat more than anything else. And I want you to do the same for my sake.’

  And finally, she wrote with a request that was of paramount importance to her.

  Darling, if I have to stay in England several months (which I pray may not be so) would you buy me and send by air an engagement ring. It need not be a valuable ring, but it is advisable that I should wear the usual symbol of a woman about to be married – it would save me quite a lot of embarrassment. It is usual to give a ring with a stone in it, or a silver ring with engraving on it – I should imagine it could be bought in the bazaars.

  Later the same day, she wrote another letter in which she demonstrates that she is doing all she possibly can to prepare herself for their new life.

  I have found a shop which has a book called Teach Yourself Gujarati in Three Weeks. It costs four shillings so I am going to buy it. Of course when the author said ‘in three weeks’ he had not met me – undoubtedly it would have been ‘Three Years’ otherwise!

  I have just done an hour on Hindi and have learned the colours and a few birds. The book from which I take the lessons is not terribly informative, but it does give me some idea so I keep on trying.

  I am going to see if I can buy a parasol and coloured spectacles, as you suggested. I shall have quite a bit of fun, going into shops to ask for them – the shocked look on the faces of the assistants will be as good as a pantomime.

  The book I obtained from the library on Hinduism is finished. It actually had about half a page in it on the Arya Samaj – which sounds a reasonable sort of religion to me, which is not incompatible with what I already believe in.

  Arya Samaj is a reform-minded movement within Hinduism that has been progressive on women’s issues. One of its core beliefs is in the equality of all human beings, and the importance of equal opportunities for all. Avadh was a follower of this sect and it would provide Helen with a route to becoming a Hindu before their marriage.

  Helen continued:

  Some sides of Hinduism must be rather embarrassing to highly educated and well-informed people, just as some sides of Roman Catholicism are here, but I do appreciate the complete honesty of thought of the philosophers who hammered out the fundamental truths of Hinduism and I feel that with complete honesty myself I shall be able to really respect people who believe in those truths – which points may not mean much to you, but are things on which I have had to ponder very seriously – you have no idea how earnest your memsahib can become!!

  *

  Avadh wrote to Helen with great relief that he had managed to secure the support of both his bosses at work for their marriage.

  The fact that something has been making me depressed and worried did not escape attention of Professor Sarabhai and Dr Ramanathan and they asked me if they could help. Their knowledge was more due to their opening cables from you by mistake and my sudden departure to Delhi for a day. Anyway, I thought fit to tell them just now that I wanted to marry you to which they said that so far as they were concerned, their relations with us will not alter at all. It was very kind of them, indeed.

  This must have come as a great relief to him, but still he sounds depressed in his letter of 30 January.

  What I have done today is merely nothing because I have been feeling so lifeless. Today is a holiday; as you know two years ago on this date Ghandiji was killed [Gandhi was assassinated by a Hindu nationalist who shot him at point-blank range]. I am pretty certain that things as they are in this country – black marketing and all that – he would have wondered whether this is the country where he preached non-violence. If you think that I have gained anything from his preachings, you had better get disillusioned now, for in the situation in which I am, with you so far away – had he been in my place – he would have worked day-in and day-out – and I just wander round here and there, feeling as lonely as a lonesome cloud in the sky.

  At this point in the letter, there was an interruption and when Avadh returned his mood had lifted.

  I had just got the trunk call through. My brother and father are trying first to persuade Kashi to either join a college of nurses or a graduation college and as soon as that is done, you will be able to come. Since it is a question of only a few days, I think as brother suggested, I shall give you the word of coming only after everything has been settled. According to brother, it will be settled in about eight or ten days. If it has to take longer, I don’t think it will take much longer than a fortnight. I am considerably cheered up because from the trunk it appears that soon everything is going to be all right. You better not say anything just now to anyone because I am afraid something might turn up again and then it would be again awkward.

  Love, now cheer up and take care of yourself and write to me a lovely letter so that I could also cheer up. I feel with you I could go through everything – even the heat of Ahmedabad – and you must have a reciprocal determination, at least about heat.

  Helen was, of course, ecstatic to hear this news and replied on 5 February:

  I was thrilled by your letter giving the result of your telephone call to your brother; Oh darling, darling, it would be so heavenly if we could get things settled in a fortnight. It would mean that you could stop worrying and I could too, and we could just happily count the days until we are together again. If I came by air it would mean six weeks, or if I got a sea passage in two months I could be with you. I don’t know about you, but I am not afraid of waiting just a little while once I know that quite definitely on a set date I shall see your dear face again. I have played around the house today like a kitten in the breeze I have been so happy at your letters. I just feel I want to sing at the top of my voice. I do hope Kashi does agree to your father’s proposals, not only for our sakes but because it will be good for her. She probably thinks at the moment that her life is finished, but as long as she goes out and lives and does not sit at home, she may well find that God has much in his ample storehouse for her. I thought my life was finished till I met you and realized it was only just beginning.

  Unfortunately, this was just one of many instances of false optimism. Kashi and her family were not going to be satisfied easily.

  *

  In the midst of all his pressing concerns, Avadh wrote on another matter: ‘I wonder whether when you are coming you could bring a dozen or two pipecleaners – they will cost only a few pence, and would form a nice birthday present for me in August, though I shall certainly utilize them much before.’ I can sympathize with my father here: there is nothing worse than a dirty pipe!

  Helen replied: ‘Sure, I’ll bring some pipe cleaners. Might I suggest some feathers in the meantime! What happens if I use the pipe cleaners for hair curlers on my way out to you? Do I get shot down??’

  And on 7 February she wrote: ‘To go from the sublime to the ridiculous in one swoop, I don’t know how many pipe cleaners you want, but I have bought you a dozen bundles, which will keep you going for a while – you old chimney! The tobacconists thought I was buying them for hair curlers and actually recommended another kind because they produced better curls! When I said I wanted them to clean a pipe with, he knew I was mad.’

  She also responded to his pessimism about Gandhi’s waning influence.

  You say that the black market is rife and India has forgotten Gandhi’s teaching. In that case it is all the more reason why we should set an example of true moral integrity, if we can find the strength to do it. I do not mean that we should be slaves
to orthodoxy, but try as best we can to be honest in the true sense in all we do. You probably saw Gandhi, which I never did, but his example of industry and forbearance, of understanding and honest thinking, is a model to us both. We could do worse than do as he did. Put your worry on one side now, my heart; we are going to be together come what may – you can work in peace in this knowledge and, in building a good name for yourself, will build something worthwhile for India. We both have talents which, well used, can be of inestimable value, and remember that nearly all good ideas and reforms have always started with a single person.

  *

  No sooner did it feel as though the situation with Kashi was moving towards a resolution than Avadh began to complain about his job. When he took the role of head of theoretical physics at the laboratory, he had been promised two research assistants and a seat on the governing body. These promises had not been kept and he complained that hiring him as a professor because they could get government money for it and then only being willing to pay his research associate a fraction of what others were getting was like ‘begging the gift of a car and then not being willing to pay for petrol’. He and Dr Ramanathan also shared concerns about the influence of the wealthy mill owners who funded the laboratory.

  He said his work was ‘to teach some elementary Physics to the “Experimental blokes”; ¾ of them won’t know, and what is worse will not care, what I am talking about’.

  He continued that he felt ‘very England sick and I somehow want to come to England and stay there – rather than this country – provided of course, I could get some post in England which I am sure I would get. People in England are more courteous than here and, of course, in Ahmedabad people do not know what courtesy is.’

  Helen must have been frustrated by this letter, and worried that it could throw all their plans up in the air once more, but she replied calmly.

  Dearest Avadh,

  Thank you for your letter of 30th January, telling me something about the laboratory. I was deeply interested in what you have to say and can understand that it must have caused you a lot of headaches. I am very ignorant of such things but proffer the following advice, most of which will probably have occurred to you anyway.

  Most important, I think, is to get hold of whoever promised you membership of the governing body and a research scholar, and be very awkward indeed about the non-fulfillment of these promises, because undoubtedly you do not stand much chance of being able to do a lot unless you are on the Governing Body. Naturally, Ramanathan [the head of the laboratory] and Professor Cosmic Rays [from the wealthy mill-owning family who funded it] will not wish to share their throne but they must. If fulfillment is not forthcoming, a few personal letters to Sir Krishnan [a member of the University’s management council] and any other important person you can think of might help. You could write on the lines that you feel sure they will be interested to have your impressions, etc., then praise what can be praised and go on to say that the greatest of stumbling blocks is that you are not on the Governing Body and can they suggest how this could be arranged – you have already approached Dr So and So or Prof That without success. In other words, get pressure brought to bear from several directions. Since Ahmedabad does not understand courtesy [as Avadh had said in his letter of 30 January], dispense with it and hit out hard, but if you can avoid deep offence do so.

  Another thing I think you must do – and I may be asking more work than is possible – and that is, do some hard thinking yourself and try to publish as much work as you can possibly turn out, even if it is not very great work – people are impressed by publication and your value will go up. This must seem like absolute sabotage of true research, but believe me it is practical politics and you may well stumble on something really great.

  If I were you I would keep in very close touch by letter with Fröhlich and Huang [Avadh’s PhD supervisor and a colleague respectively in Liverpool]; write them fairly frequently and find out what they are doing. Don’t forget this job puts you on an equal footing with a great many important people, with whom you are possibly already slightly acquainted. Keep in touch with them – ask their advice, and so on. You can always dictate letters to me to save time and I can type.

  All of this was very sound advice and probably helped Avadh think about how he could manage his career more actively. Helen told a friend later about the central role of Professor Fröhlich in Avadh’s career: ‘I don’t think that Professor Fröhlich ever understood Avadh’s complete devotion to him. To Avadh, he was his Guru, his great teacher, a person who, in Hindu lore, was to be respected and served even more deeply than one’s parents.’

  He also had a deep bond with his Chinese friend Huang, based on intellectual honesty. They had to break off their friendship, however, when Huang returned to China. At the time, both worked in nuclear physics and any contact between nuclear physicists from opposing nations was far too risky.

  Helen finished her letter by saying:

  We can aim eventually to come to England if you like (naturally I would like) but what you do in the next year or two largely depends on how good a post you could get here – you never know, it might form a recommendation for something pretty good here.

  I have written so much and yet no word of love, but it is all love because all I am thinking about is you and how you can best order your life to do the best you can with it. I am full of joy to think we may soon be together.

  On 7 February, she wrote again about Avadh’s problems at the laboratory:

  I realize how complicated is the problem you have to solve of your position in the laboratory, but unless you fight for what you want, I can quite see that you will be hopelessly squashed by the weight of Prof Cosmic Rays. Domineering people have to be very sharply dealt with, but it is surprising how they shut up when they find someone really tough opposing them. Of course, apart from any ability of yours, your position must be rather like that of a Londoner in the provinces – the provinces think that the Londoner is sophisticated and affected and the Londoner thinks the provinces are boors (which they often are). You have been brought up in a capital, which means you must have seen a whole lot more than Ahmedabadites, and I expect they view things in the same light as a Londoner. Wot a life, but never mind, love, we will walk up the avenue [a Judy Garland lyric] together and make them step in the gutter to let us pass before we are done! We shall hardly be able to complain that life is dull.

  Except to see some Chinese films through the Anglo-Chinese friendship Society, I have not been to the pictures since you left. I can never sit long if I am worried and naturally I have been worried, but now I am more relaxed as I know that it is likely that we shall soon have a settlement, and even if we don’t get one I can keep you if you come back here until you get a job, so perhaps I shall go one of these days.

  It seems a dreadfully long time since I last saw you, although it is only seven weeks. I was thinking only today of our last evening together and the terrible fear in my mind that I would never see you again; that fear, at any rate, has gone from my mind. I know that I may have to wait, but one day I am going to be able to look at you again and feel my heart leap with the joy of it, and hold your hand and stroke your hair. To me these things are well worth suffering for and worth waiting for. You have given me so much happiness that you have made me greedy for more!

  Darling, if there are any formalities I should observe in the shape of gifts to people at our wedding, will you let me know. In this country a gift is given by the husband to his bride and to his bride’s maids, and by the bride to her husband only. The bride also supplies at least some of the linen for the new home – which I shall do, although I am sad to say not very much. I hope your father will not be involved in a lot of trouble in the arranging of our wedding – I am touched that he should even interest himself in it.

  On Thursday 2 February Avadh wrote again about his growing disillusionment with India.

  In certain ways, after seeing life in England, I feel in India,
even though it is my country and I should do something to solve some of its problems, there is so much of peculiar relationships that, well, one has to do so many things which a really free-minded person will not do. I wonder whether my doing things at times which I do not like, will not produce in you some sort of hatred for me. As far as it is possible I must keep my head straight – but you know there is a proverb in our country that one might walk as carefully as possible through a coal mine but one is bound to get some black spots.

  He was thinking more and more about leaving Ahmedabad and having his former professor in the United Kingdom help him find a job there. Helen sounds near breaking point with the stress of all the uncertainty but she replies on 8 February with a very well-reasoned argument.

  I think, Darling, that we should definitely come back to England as soon as you can get anything to do here. We can return to India in a few years time when all this has been forgotten. I had been told by Dr Chico [an Indian medical doctor and friend in England] since I sent the cable that I should find it hard to work because I was English, but another Indian told me quite casually that when he left India three weeks ago the Indians were so busy hating the Pakistanis that they would never bother their heads about an English woman!!

  If you think we could safely live together in Ahmedabad until September, perhaps I could find some work to do so as to swell our banking account. Don’t spend much on clothes for me and don’t buy another thing for the flat unless you feel we cannot live without it.

  Dearest, dearest I feel we must be married – that is why I am coming. If I come back to England with you, that will be all right in the eyes of my family and of the people amongst whom we should have to live in England. I adore you and I can’t live without you.