Soon Grandma began to tire of standing and they settled into a couple of wicker chairs plumped with throw pillows. A crow rose up from the bushes and circled overhead, cawing raucously as if wanting to participate in their conversation.
“Did it surprise you that Pranab left for New York?” Grandma said. There was a barely concealed sarcasm in the way she enunciated the question.
“Not for long.” Aloka stooped to gaze in wonder at the intense magenta of a bougainvillea blossom that a gust of wind had deposited at her feet. “To be honest, I was relieved. All this time I’ve felt guilty for having dragged him to New York. Now he’s going back there on his own!”
“I’m sure, Aloka, you’ve drawn some conclusions from this.”
“Yes, one of them is that Pranab wouldn’t have made it here, even if we’d never left the country. He didn’t have the strength to deal with adversity.”
“He didn’t have the character. Do you remember, Aloka, how in our Bengali society charitra used to be an important word? When a marriage proposal came for someone in the extended family, the first question asked was, ‘Does he have good charitra?’ We’re losing that. Now it’s only: How much money does he make? Which neighborhood does he live in? Is there potential to go abroad? Can the family afford a big wedding? I wish I’d relied more on my hunches and warned you about Pranab’s character.”
“I wouldn’t have listened, Thakurma. I was young and had to learn the hard way. We were taught that the heart is never wrong and, when in doubt, follow your heart and not your head. Since then I’ve found out that’s not entirely true. I followed my heart when I went with Pranab, and look what that led to. Had I joined my heart and mind to make that important decision, I’d have been better off. Now I realize that although our hearts want us to feel, and fully express our emotions, we must not take blind actions because of those emotions. There’s where I went wrong.”
“Still, you’ve come a long way, amar sona. You’ve risen above many difficulties.”
“Not soon enough and not well enough. I don’t mind saying that Sujata’s the one who deserves most of the credit. She’s come a longer way. She’s done the best of the three of us.”
Aloka’s eyes followed Grandma’s to the undulating magnolia tree limb and the crow bouncing on it. The love triangle that had originated in this house and shaken the family tree had finally resolved itself. It amused Aloka to consider that she had never cared for drawing triangles in her geometry class in school; she’d always preferred the geniality of circles. Now she could almost see before her the broken sides of a triangle, a few straight lines in space in a state of movement, no longer connected to form a prison for the restless souls.
The wind bathed Aloka’s face in a refreshing coolness. A long outgoing breath carried some regrets with it, leaving her feeling light and airy. Soon it would be time to escort Grandma inside. Soon the currents of life would blow them each again in different directions.
forty-eight
In the evening, with shadows creeping up the wall opposite the window, Suzy gave Grandma’s frail feet a gentle massage with her fingertips. Grandma’s dry scaly skin was veined like the intricate sweater patterns she once knitted. Suzy’s finger pressure must have been just right, for from her reclining position on her bed Grandma gave a grunt of satisfaction. Then she fell back into silence.
The custom of foot massage had been in the Gupta clan for as long as Suzy could remember. The loving practice improved circulation, stimulated the Ayurvedic pressure points, as well as conveyed respect to one’s elders. Grandma had long ago tutored Suzy on how to hold the foot and how to apply the right finger pressure while making circular movements, and how to check for lumps or points where energy was obstructed.
Her imaginings still revolving around Mreenal, Suzy hid a long sigh. She wished she could sit with Aloka and empty every emotion—Aloka seemed so much more mature now and so willing to offer friendship—but how could Suzy bring up the subject of her breakup with Mreenal after acting so foolishly romantic so soon after meeting him. In any case, it would be difficult to get an hour of Aloka’s time now, what with all the prebirthday activities going on around the house.
“I could just about fall asleep,” Grandma said. “I appreciate your doing this, my child.”
“We have to get you well rested for tomorrow.”
Grandma had no idea how huge the event would be, how many people she would have to greet. The whole crew at the tea estate, some two hundred people who served in various capacities, had been invited. Unbeknownst to Grandma, her three college friends from Calcutta had arrived and checked into a nearby hotel. Relatives from other states were pouring into the town as well. This would be the biggest celebration in the Gupta home in everyone’s memory.
“Have you thought about my will, dear?”
“Yes, I have. I’ll accept your offer, Thakurma. It’s a most precious gift.”
“Oh, Sujata.” Grandma lifted her head, beamed, and let her head drop back on the pillow again. “Now I can send a prayer to my ancestors and tell them that the estate will remain in the family. They’ll see that I’ve done my job.”
She closed her semitranslucent eyelids and her lips trembled in silent prayer. In joyful quickness, her eyes flew open again. “Are you happy, Sujata?”
“Yes, Thakurma. It’s my wildest dream come alive. I’ll own the most organic tea garden in Darjeeling and be able to distribute the finest product to the North American market. Many tea drinkers there still don’t recognize quality leaves. I’m trying to come up with a marketing strategy. I am also checking into natural decaf processes. Decaffeinated tea is popular there, but a fine decaffeinated Darjeeling is still rare.”
“I’m so glad you have your own reasons and are not doing it just for me.”
“Oh, no! This opens up great new possibilities for me. There are potential tea markets just about everywhere on this planet. I’ll be traveling to new places, even occasionally make a stop to see my friends and colleagues in Victoria.”
“How fortunate we’re to have you back. As you’ll find out, there aren’t very many family-run tea estates left in Darjeeling. The few that are still in existence pray for a male heir, so that their daughters will not inherit the property. Not me. Never once did I think that I needed grandsons when I had girls like you and Aloka.” Grandma swiped at a trickle of tears flowing down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had very many days like this lately. As you grow older, the years cheat you, wear you out, give you wrinkles and joint aches, but don’t bring you an equal amount of satisfaction in return. By the way, the tea workers have a special celebration in mind the first day you go and sit in your father’s office. And they’re waiting to hear your ideas.”
“I have so many new ideas! Like producing green tea. Like growing cardamom and oranges as additional crops. But first things first, we have a birthday to celebrate.”
The massage now finished, Suzy laid Grandma’s feet gently on the bed and drew the jacquard cover up over her. A beatific smile spread over Grandma’s face. “Have you told Mreenal yet?” she whispered conspiratorially.
Sujata rose, moved over to the bedside table, and began rearranging the items there. Then, in as normal and even a tone of voice as she could manage, she answered, “Yes, I have.”
“I can’t wait to see that chap tomorrow. Ihave a tea quiz ready for him. Before he can ask for your hand, he’ll have to pass the quiz. And don’t you dare help him.”
“I promise.” Suzy forced a laugh as she returned to the bedside. “I’ll do your hair right after breakfast. Then I’ll line your feet with aalta and set out a brand-new pair of sandals.”
“Good shoes are an old woman’s best accessories. Her spirit manifests itself in her walk.”
Suzy adjusted the cover around Grandma’s halo of white hair one last time. Peace and repose had smoothed her forehead. She shut her eyes and parted her lips in a blissful smile. As Suzy looked at her lovingly, she found that her own un
happiness had receded into the background.
forty-nine
Relatives swirled in the entranceway just like the day Aloka had arrived. Standing on the porch, on her way out, Aloka bent down and picked up her suitcase. Images from Grandma’s birthday, which had taken place only yesterday, replayed before her eyes. Grandma sitting upright in her half-moon chair—she was the only one in the family who could sit so regally. Members of the extended Gupta clan and friends surrounding her devised apt testimonials in their own words and conveyed thanks to her for what she’d brought to their lives. While tasting a spoonful of channer payesh, Grandma brushed aside any hint of reverence and asserted that in her heart she still thought of herself as a poor ugly village girl, cursed to bear unusual difficulties, but who treated any bliss that life handed her, like this ambrosia before her, as though it had been hand-delivered by the gods. After another taste, Grandma laughingly added that she perceived life as one of those grand epic plays that, as everyone knows, doesn’t always end on an exalted note. One’s only satisfaction, she concluded, might lie in having the good fortune to be present.
Now Aloka considered it her good fortune to have been a witness to that remarkable occasion.
Down by the car the driver cleared his throat to indicate he was ready. Aloka’s fingers became as taut as the coarse rope that bound the suitcase. She had rehearsed these last few minutes in her mind many times. There should be no tears and no promises as to when she would return. Her life, after all, was in New York, where Jahar was waiting for her, and where, as Seva, she had the job of mending a thousand hearts.
Facing Uncle Umesh, Aloka fumbled for words. Her voice cracked a bit as she found herself promising that she would be back the same time next year. She had her sister, her grandmother, and a home here, a sanctuary where she could rejuvenate. Uncle Umesh only patted the corners of his eyes.
Turning, Aloka overheard an elderly uncle whispering to his brother, “Can you imagine a woman running a tea estate? Do they have the stamina or the temperament? In my opinion they do better as mothers. What a mistake.”
Before Aloka could retort, Sujata edged her way forward with a thermos bottle and a Tiffin box for the four-hour car ride. “Your favorite luchi and halwa are in there,” Sujata offered. “And tea, yesterday’s harvest. It doesn’t get much fresher.”
Even as Sujata smiled in pride, the dark shadows on her face bespoke her loneliness. She had given up Mreenal and her cozy existence in Victoria, yet there was dignity and a firmness of resolve in her carriage. In the last few days Sujata, already assuming the role of new family matriarch, had greeted hundreds of guests. Under her care the household had functioned smoothly—meals served on time, rides arranged for the elderly, servants given a bonus, children escorted to the playground. Through all this she’d made sure that shipments from the tea factory left on time for the auction in Calcutta.
“You’ve got what it takes,” Aloka assured Sujata. “But don’t hesitate to call me if you ever need me.”
“I will,” Sujata replied warmly. “Be sure to send me clippings of your writing.”
Aloka looked admiringly again at the brave new Sujata standing before her. How far she had come; how much farther she would travel. They stood in silence for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, entering what Aloka believed was a realm of understanding beyond the verbal.
The driver signaled again, this time with an impatient hand gesture.
With a last, longing look at the crumpled faces, Aloka descended the front steps and hopped into the car. They were waving at her now, hands drooping in sadness, like a flock of uncertain birds about to take flight. Sujata and Grandma stood in the forefront, their eyes making desperate attempts to hold her in sight.
The car lurched down the winding tree-lined street away from the house.
Every journey, it dawned on Aloka now, is a quest for what we’ve been missing in our lives.
This trip had been to find Sujata.
ALSO BY BHARTI KIRCHNER
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Sharmila’s Book
nonfiction
The Healthy Cuisine of India
India Inspired
The Bold Vegetarian
Vegetarian Burgers
READING GROUP GUIDE
1. Is Aloka hurt more by Sujata’s betrayal or by Pranab’s?
2. Did Sujata really love Pranab or was she just interested in hurting Aloka?
3. Was Pranab really interested in helping the workers on the tea plantation?
4. Who is the real Pranab—the immigrant or the revolutionary?
5. Why did Aloka settle into life in the U.S. so much more easily than Pranab?
6. Why does Aloka feel she needs so many secret identities?
7. Will Jahar make Aloka happy?
8. Is Aloka Nina’s favorite? How does this affect the relationship between Aloka, Sujata, and Nina?
9. What part does Mreenal play in the novel?
10. Would Sujata and Pranab have been happy if they’d stayed together?
11. How does Pranab change by the end of the book?
12. Do you think that Aloka and Sujata can ever have a close relationship?
For more reading group suggestions visit
www.stmartins.com
St. Martin’s Griffin
DARJEELING.
Copyright © 2002 by Bharti Kirchner.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN 9781429976312
First eBook Edition : June 2012
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kirchner, Bharti.
Darjeeling: a novel / Bharti Kirchner.
p. cm.
ISBN 13: 978-0-312-31606-8
ISBN 10: 0-312-31606-2
1. Darjeeling (India : District)—Fiction. 2. Triangles (Interpersonal relations)—
Fiction. 3. Plantation life—Fiction. 4. Tea trade—Fiction. 5. Sisters—Fiction I. Title.
PS3561.I6835 D37 2002
813’.54—dc21
2001058863
Darjeeling Page 31
