Belonging

by Umi Sinha

  ‘At first we were sheltering in the barracks, but we had to abandon them because the walls had great holes in them and they were in danger of collapse. After that we camped in the shallow trench under the walls – it had been dug so we could walk about without being picked off by snipers. Our clothes were just rags. We had given up our shirts for bandages, and the women had given their petticoats and were walking about half-naked… but we were past caring about things like that. You cannot begin to imagine, Henry, how degraded suffering can make people. We were filthier than the filthiest beggar.

  ‘Your mother was heavily pregnant by then and finding it hard to move around. I gave her what help I could, but during the day I was busy with the defence… We were under constant attack.’ He gave a staccato laugh. ‘I remember your mother telling me that Colonel Ewart fumed at the incompetence of his sepoys after one of their attacks had failed: “Have they learnt nothing from me at all?” he said. He was in hospital then, having been wounded in the arm. But to answer your question – as I said, I volunteered to defend the walls under the command of Captain Moore. He was a good man, young but very competent. Later he sent me out to lead sorties against the enemy, which is how I survived. I wish to God now I had stayed behind. It’s foolish to imagine I could have saved her… but at least I would have shared her fate.’

  I watched him struggle to hold back his tears. ‘It’s all right, Father. You don’t have to talk about it.’

  He held his hand up. ‘No, I may as well finish. On that particular day I’d gone out with a party, including one of my native officers – a jemadar called Ram Buksh – to clear some mutineers away from a disused barracks. They’d been using it as a base from which to attack us. We had just managed to chase them out when we were charged by a group of sowars. One of them rode straight at me. I was on foot – we’d eaten all the horses by then. I shouted to Ram to get the others under cover and tried to dodge under the horse’s belly but the sowar brought his sword down… It gave me this – ’ he touched his scar ‘ – and sliced into my shoulder, breaking my collarbone. The next thing I knew, I was lying on a bed of grass in a hut. Some of my sepoys, who had been sheltering in a nearby ravine, had found me and carried me to a village where the villagers looked after me. The headman knew me because your mother and I sometimes rode out that way and she was popular with the children.’

  Tears came to his eyes. ‘I wish you’d known her, Henry. She was so… so full of life. Rooms lit up when she walked into them. I used to watch her with the village children. They loved her too. When I met her the world became a brighter place… and when she died…’

  I looked away as he struggled to control his face. He took a swig of whisky to steady himself and went on grimly, ‘They packed my wounds with some native recipe and bandaged them up tight but the shoulder got infected and I was delirious for some days. When the fever finally passed I was too weak to move. But my sepoys kept visiting me and bringing me news. They told me that the relief column, which had left Calcutta at the end of May, was stuck at Allahabad, having halted all along the route to burn villages and erect gallows. They had created such terror that word of their approach emptied villages before them, so they could find no food or supplies, and no coolies to carry them. It was this time of year, and the rains had started. Hard conditions for a marching army.’

  He paused and stared out at the sheeting rain, but I knew what he was seeing was then, not now. ‘I knew Wheeler could not hold out much longer because the walls would simply wash away. And sure enough I heard a few days later that he had surrendered to Nana Saheb and that the survivors of the entrenchment had been promised safe passage by boat to Allahabad.’

  He was silent for a long time then, and I did not urge him to go on, for every English man and woman knows the meaning of the phrase Remember Cawnpore!

  Cecily

  Cawnpore, early July 1857

  I do not know what day it is. We have been here two or three days, prisoners of Nana Saheb. I do not know how to write the terrible news. Freddie, James, Louisa, Sophie and the baby are all dead. Arthur is missing after going out on a raid outside the entrenchment. Ram Buksh saw him cut down and went back to recover his body but it was not there.

  The sights I have seen are imprinted on my mind and I cannot get them out. I see them when I close my eyes and when I sleep I dream them. At night I am woken by my own or other women’s or children’s screams. Scenes from the entrenchment roll over and over in my mind – little Mabel Tremayne dying of shock when the first bombardment started; Freddie shot through the head by a sniper’s bullet, dying in his father’s arms; James with his insides spilling out and Louisa trying to push them back in; the screams of the wounded when the hospital burned down; Luxmibai with both her legs blown off while trying to fetch water for the children; Louisa, crazed with grief, dying of fever and the baby fading like a flower in a few hours. Towards the end we no longer cared whether we lived or died; children ran out among the bullets and no one tried to stop them. Poor Arthur saw his whole family killed, except Sophie and me.

  After he was gone Ram Buksh did everything for me – he cared for poor Sophie, who was dumb from shock and would not eat. Even after he was wounded, he brought us food and water from the well at the risk of his life.

  General Wheeler surrendered on the 25th, and we left the entrenchment on the 27th, after a delay because there were not enough palanquins for the sick and wounded. But as soon as we were outside they dragged the servants away and our luggage was all left behind. We knew then we were betrayed, but it was too late. We were filthy and dressed in rags and the natives jeered and taunted us as we made our way to the river. I saw Colonel Ewart’s own sowars drag him from his palanquin by his wounded arm while he screamed in pain. They mocked him and demanded to know why his shoes were not polished, then they cut him to pieces in front of his wife. They told her she could go but when she turned they cut her down too. Ram Buksh tried to shield me from the sight, but when we got near the river they dragged him away, shouting that he was a traitor, and put him in irons. He fought them to stay with me but they beat him with their rifle butts until I screamed at him to go with them. I am so ashamed now that when we agreed to surrender no one thought to ask if safe passage applied to the native officers who had risked their lives for us.

  They were waiting for us at the river, lining the ghats, their rifles loaded and ready. We managed to scramble aboard the boats but the water was low and they stuck fast in the mud. Capt. Moore was shot through the heart and Gen. Wheeler cut down in the water by a sowar on horseback. I pushed Sophie down on to the floor but before I could get down beside her a sepoy grabbed me and pulled me from the boat. It was one of Arthur’s men and he was shouting something to me about Arthur, but I did not listen, for I was fighting to get back to Sophie. At last he let me go, but when I reached the river again I could not find the boat. They were all on fire – everyone in them burnt alive. Women and children jumping into the water were speared like fish. I cannot write any more.

  Next day

  We are being held captive in a building in the garden of a larger house. After the river we were taken to another place by Nana Saheb’s soldiers, who taunted us and threw grain on the floor for the children to scrabble for, and called us vermin. Yesterday we were brought here, where we are guarded by mutineer sepoys. It is dark and hot and there are so many of us that we cannot lie down together but have to take turns. But our guards are not unkind; they allow us to draw water from the well and wash our clothes and some of the women have cut off all their hair to be rid of the lice. The natives climb on to the walls to watch us and mock at us but we are beyond caring. The things I have seen go round and round in my head.

  Some of the ladies pray to keep themselves calm, or read aloud from the Bible, but I cannot. I do not understand how God could allow such terrible things.

  Two days later

  Today General Wheeler’s servant brought my bag, which he had been carrying for me, and handed
it back through the window. He asked after the family and wept to learn that they are dead, unless any escaped in the boat that got away. Other servants came to the barred windows to ask after their masters and to bring us food or possessions they have salvaged. Mrs. Anderson gave them some notes to carry to the rescue force, which they say has reached Allahabad, asking them to make haste.

  They told us that the native officers are still alive but Nana Saheb intends to try them for treason and make an example of them by cutting off their hands. I cannot bear to think of it. I realise that I no longer think of Ram Buksh as different from us. He is closer to me than anyone else on earth, closer than Arthur, or Mama or Papa, or even Mina, for he and I have shared something that no one else could ever understand.

  July?

  Nana Saheb has sent us meat, beer and wine and a native doctor to care for the sick. The sepoys say that when he saw the conditions in which we are held he was shocked. I no longer know what to think. Perhaps what was done at the river was not by his orders and he does not intend to kill us after all? The doctor is a Bengalee and seems a kind man. He said my baby will come soon and that all will be well.

  July?

  Two of the servants carrying notes to Allahabad have been caught, and to punish us Nana Saheb has sent us a woman to be our jailer. We are to call her the Begum. We hoped a woman would be kinder but she is not and even the sepoys dislike her. To humiliate us, she has ordered that our food is to be served by the men whose job it is to clean away the night soil. She makes us grind our own corn too, but we do not mind, for any activity is a relief.

  Fourteen died of cholera today and were dragged out to be thrown in the river.

  July?

  Today we heard the guns. They are here at last! We all cheered but the Begum told us not to be too happy, for Nana Saheb’s army has gone out to meet them and will wipe them off the face of the earth.

  14th July

  My baby is born. A boy. He was delivered at dawn by Mrs. Moore with the help of the native doctor. I asked him what date it was so I would know my son’s birthday. He lies beside me now, sleeping so trustingly that I know I would do anything to save him – that if we all perish, he must live. It is the last thing I can do for Arthur, to leave a son who will carry on his name now that he and James are dead.

  15th July

  We were woken by the guns this morning. After breakfast Nana Saheb’s soldiers came and took out the men and boys from the Futtehgurh party, who were kept in a different room, and shot them. They took the doctor away too, though he pleaded to stay, saying he was needed. This afternoon they shot him too, along with the servants who were caught carrying messages.

  The Begum told Mrs. Anderson that Nana Saheb has ordered our execution. When Mrs. Anderson begged for the children’s lives she said that when one cleans out a serpent’s nest one does not leave the eggs. I do not understand why she hates us so much. She said every sepoy would give his life willingly to rid their country of every white-faced serpent, but this afternoon she ordered the guards to shoot us and they refused. They say they will kill any number of men but not a single woman or child. Then she called for Nana Saheb’s general, who ordered them to shoot us through the windows, but they fired into the ceiling and the plaster fell down on us. The Begum screamed at them that they were cowards and she would find some real men who are not afraid to do a man’s work. She has been gone for an hour now. Mrs. Anderson and Mrs. Moore have ripped up their dresses and tied the door handles together.

  I have placed the baby in my bag with my lucky Sussex stone around his neck in the hope that it will preserve him. The others are all praying. I tried to pray with them but I could not, for I find that I no longer believe in God. Strangely, I am no longer afraid.

  Lila

  ‘You really are a dark horse,’ Barbara said when the rush was over and everything had calmed down. ‘A Sikh boyfriend and you never mentioned it.’

  I was sitting by Jagjit’s bed, waiting for him to come round, and still recovering from the shock of finding the pebble. Barbara had said that an orderly had come running to tell her I had fainted. She had revived me with smelling salts and made me sit with my head between my knees. ‘You were white as a sheet. I thought you’d just overdone it until you started crying and calling his name. Of course we didn’t know who he was then.’

  I had no recollection of any of that, nor of what I did while I waited for her to bring me news of him. I could not believe he was alive, even after she told me that the blood on the front of the jacket was not his. I realised then that I had never expected him to come back.

  The surgeon had removed pieces of shrapnel from his shoulder and back.

  ‘He’s a lucky chap,’ he told me, when Barbara took me to ask what he’d found. ‘This –’ he held up a jagged piece of shrapnel ‘ – was stopped by his scapular, but he still has some fragments in his skull. I can’t operate without shaving some of his hair and we need his permission to do that; we don’t want another mutiny on our hands.’

  This was the policy with Sikhs, whose religion forbids the cutting of hair. There was an elderly Sikh jemadar on the ward with a fractured skull who, for this reason, was refusing an operation that might have relieved his paralysis. And despite my pleas that I knew Jagjit, and was willing to take responsibility, the surgeon would not budge.

  ‘He really is a dish,’ Barbara said admiringly. ‘He looks completely at home here…’ She gestured up at the great painted dome. ‘With any luck he’ll come round soon. Shall I pull the screens round and leave you two lovebirds alone? I’ll keep an eye out for Matron.’

  ‘He’s just a friend. I’ve known him since I was thirteen.’

  ‘I believe you; thousands wouldn’t. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.’ She winked at me, pulled the screens round us and went away.

  Jagjit was lying still, his head bandaged and his skin yellow-grey against the white pillows. I stared at him, feeling a mixture of relief and anger. Why had he not listened to me? Why had he insisted on signing up for a war that had nothing to do with him? Why did men have to play at heroics without thinking of the consequences, not just for themselves but those they left behind?

  A wave of exhaustion overcame me. I leant back and closed my eyes, and when I opened them it took me a few moments to register that he was looking at me.

  ‘Lila? What…?’ His eyes left mine and travelled round the room, pausing on the chandeliers and palm tree pillars. ‘Where the hell…?’ He tried to sit up and sank back with a grimace.

  ‘You mustn’t move. You’ve had an operation.’

  ‘An operation? But why? What is this place?’

  ‘It’s a hospital. In Brighton.’ I steadied my voice, not to alarm him.

  ‘Hospital? What kind of hospital? And what are those bells?’

  ‘I can’t hear any bells; you may have tinnitus. You’re in the Indian Hospital in the old Pavilion… where I work. I wrote to you about it.’

  He blinked and raised a hand to his bandaged head. ‘What happened?’

  ‘A shell, we think. You’ve lost some blood so you’ll feel weak for a bit. Are you in pain?’

  ‘Er…’ He shifted a bit and winced.

  ‘Try not to move. You don’t want to start bleeding again. There are still bits of shrapnel in your head. They need your permission to shave your hair so they can operate. You will give it?’

  ‘Of course.’ He looked round again and then back at me. ‘Don’t look so worried.’

  ‘I should let them know you’re conscious. And Matron won’t like me being alone with you with the screen closed.’

  ‘Come here.’

  He held his hand out and I took it, feeling the weight of it in mine, the warm skin under my fingers. A feeling of unreality came over me. What if he was dead and this was a dream, like the one about Father being alive again? I remembered the jacket and shivered.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing. Just a goose walking over my grave.’r />
  ‘You looked so cross a moment ago… Are you angry?’

  ‘Of course not. Just tired. And worried.’

  He pulled me towards him. ‘Come closer.’

  I leant over.

  ‘Kiss me.’

  ‘If Matron sees us I’ll be out on my ear.’

  ‘Damn Matron.’

  I bent over him, careful not to jog his shoulder, and touched his lips with mine. A tear dripped on to his forehead and I straightened up quickly, wiping it away. ‘I think you’ve got a temperature. How do you feel? Can you remember anything? What happened or how you got here… anything at all?’

  He frowned. ‘We were advancing… I think it was raining. Baljit…’ his voice sharpened ‘… Baljit was next to me.’ He began to struggle up.

  I pushed him back. ‘Stay still! You can’t get up yet.’