‘She’s not sure whether she wants to join us or not,’ replied Gurpreet.
‘That’s all right,’ said Guruji. His voice rose as he spoke again. ‘We only want those Indians who are a hundred per cent committed to the cause. We need people who are ready to do or die for their country.’
‘Yes, you’re right, Guruji.’
Not hearing any response from Guruji, Gurpreet followed his gaze. He was looking out of the open window and pointing to a flag fluttering in the distance. ‘See that flag?’
‘You mean the Union Jack?’ asked Gurpreet.
‘The day is not far when the Indian flag will be flying in its stead,’ whispered Guruji.
‘It seems that day will never come,’ Gurpreet said with a cynical smile.
‘It will. And soon …’ said Guruji. ‘The Congress is planning something. A nationwide protest against the British to quit India.’
Raven knocked on Principal Perkins’ door. Hearing a ‘Come in, please’ he walked in.
‘I have some bad news, I’m afraid,’ said Miss Perkins. ‘The warden’s problem seems to have escalated. It’s something to do with her brother–in–law getting wounded in the war and becoming impaired. She will be taking longer to come back than we had previously thought.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ replied Raven.
‘Miss Agatha has kindly offered to take the warden’s place until her return. I hope you approve?’
‘Yes, of cou—’
Cries of ‘Bharat Mata ki Jai; do or die’ made him stop speaking and look out of the window. There were some revolutionaries marching down the street below.
‘Those demonstrators look like your students from MP College.’
‘So they are,’ said Raven as he narrowed his eyes and looked out of the window again.
‘In that case you ought to stop the protest.’
‘It is a peaceful march, Miss Perkins,’ Raven answered slowly, continuing to look out of the window. ‘I can hardly object to that.’
‘If I were you, I’d keep an eye on them.’
‘Really, Miss Perkins, I think they’re harmless enough.’
‘It seems your sympathies lie with the Indians, rather than the English. Don’t fool yourself, Raven. You’re a white man, a gora, a foreigner to them. You may think of yourself as an Indian, but they never will. And they will have no qualms throwing you out of their country, given the chance.’
Raven looked at her and saw the mistrust in her eyes. He sighed and got up. ‘I should take my leave now. I’ll go and meet Miss Agatha and make sure she has been briefed about the rules and regulations governing the hostel.’
Miss Perkins made no move to get up. ‘I wanted to ask you about Princess Malvika Singh. Has she settled down? Her friend’s death was a bit of a shock for all of us.’
‘Bit of a shock?’ exclaimed Raven. ‘It was a huge shock. But yes …’ He turned his back to Miss Perkins and looked intently at the painting of the Last Supper that hung on the wall. He touched its cold gilt frame. ‘She’s much stronger than I’d thought,’ he said slowly. He swung back to face Miss Perkins. ‘She was extremely upset that no action had been taken against the collector, bu—’
‘Well, we don’t really know for certain what happened that night,’ said Miss Perkins. ‘I mean, a frivolous Anglo-Indian girl’s words as opposed to a respectable collector’s …’
Raven stared at her, not quite believing what he had just heard. ‘I’m appalled,’ he said in a low voice.
‘It’s the truth, you know,’ replied Miss Perkins with a shrug. ‘If matters had gone to court, everyone including the judge would have said the same thing.’
‘Not everyone,’ said Raven. ‘I’m sure the Indians would have felt differently.’
‘Who would have listened to them? Certainly not the judge. But I’m glad that girl – Malvika – has settled down. So tell me, Raven, is it really necessary to spend so much time with her?’
Raven’s mouth fell open and he glared at her. ‘I beg your pardon, miss?’
‘People talk, Raven, and I’ve been hearing things. If you’re unable to maintain a healthy distance between yourself and your students and these rumours continue to grow, I may have to take the matter to the vice chancellor.’
Pursing his lips, Raven nodded slightly. ‘Good day to you, miss,’ he mumbled and left the room, banging the door shut.
Raven angrily changed gears and reversed out of the driveway at full speed. Who was Miss Perkins to tell him what he ought to do with his students and what not to? He slowed down as he perceived a palanquin approaching. Was he in love with Malvika? He thought hard. No, he didn’t think so. Then why was he always looking out for her? He worried about her; felt sorry for her for all that she had gone through. Yes, that was it. He felt sorry for her, that’s all.
He parked his car and made his way towards Lakeview Club, a lovely resort constructed fully with logs and wood, on the edge of the Naini Lake. It had rained all day, so much so that the entire place now looked intoxicated and full of revel. He took a deep breath, inhaling the heady fragrance of moist earth, took off his hat and walked into the club. Normally he did not attend these social gatherings, more so if they were hosted by students. He felt as inconspicuous at such parties as a peacock would in the Himalayas. But one imploring look from Vidushi and he could not say no.
A cheer went up as he entered the room where the party was in full swing. He accepted a glass of whisky from the waiter and looked around. After exchanging a few niceties with his students and congratulating Jatin and Vidushi, he made his way to the door that led to the deck.
Mili sat there alone, at the edge of the deck, her feet dangling in the waters of the lake. Raven went and sat down beside her, his glass in hand.
‘Good evening, sir,’ she said with a smile.
Raven nodded, raised his glass, then took a sip. ‘You seem to be far away,’ he said.
Mili looked down. ‘I was just reminiscing – the last time I went to a party, Vicky was with me.’
‘Yes, I remember, you almost got expelled from the hostel,’ he said, smiling sardonically.
Mili grinned. ‘We’ve been friends ever since we were babies, even before we could talk. Ma used to tell me, whenever we were together as toddlers, we’d sit side by side, holding hands. Always holding hands. She thought it was awfully sweet.’
Raven smiled softly and the two of them fell silent. He looked around. It was twilight. The lake was surrounded with purplish-blue mountains on all sides. A thin veil of mist was descending down the mountains and dipping into the tranquil waters, like the weeping willows. Why had he never come to Nainital before, he wondered? It reminded him of Avalon. There was even a boat on the lake that looked like the barge on which Arthur had lain, after he was mortally wounded.
From the corner of his eye he saw some students about to walk out onto the deck. Then they saw him and walked back inside. He smiled disdainfully. Cowards, all of them. He wondered why they were all so scared of approaching him.
He stole a sideways look at Mili. She was chewing her nails. ‘Stop biting your nails,’ he said, snatching her hands and looking at them in horror. ‘You’re a girl. Not just that. You’re a princess. And your nails are worse than the washerwoman’s.’
Mili pulled her hands out of his grasp and hid them behind her back. ‘You’re scolding me at a party? You can’t scold me about my studies here, so you’re picking on my nails,’ she grumbled.
Raven put back his head and laughed. He took a long sip and emptied the contents of his glass. He gestured to the waiter to come over and refill it. The waiter walked over with a half-full bottle of whisky and an empty tumbler. Ignoring the glass, Raven picked up the bottle, then shooed the waiter off with a wave of his hand.
He took another sip, then turned to Mili. ‘That principal of yours, she’s a cow. She says to me, “You’re not an Indian.” You tell me, Malvika. What makes you an Indian?’
‘Sir, I don’t
understand.’
‘Why do you say that you’re an Indian and not a German or Russian or Japanese?’
‘I was born and brought up in India, that’s why, sir,’ replied Mili.
‘Exactly,’ said Raven, taking another long sip of the whisky. ‘So was I. I have lived here all my life. I can speak Hindustani. I enjoy Indian food. So does that not make me an Indian?’
Looking slightly baffled, Mili answered, ‘I suppose.’
It was getting dark now. Raven looked at the lake again, its waters gently lapping the boats, like a mother rocking her baby to sleep. The boats swayed slightly every now and then, as though stirring in their sleep.
He moved closer to Mili. Miss Perkins should see me now, he thought and chuckled. He noticed Mili looking at him curiously and glugged down some more whisky. ‘Sod Miss Perkins,’ he muttered.
He began tapping his feet in time with the music playing inside. Someone had put on ‘Let’s Do It’. As the words ‘Let’s do it … let’s fall in love …’ rang out, Raven looked at Mili and their eyes met. He gave her a sheepish grin. Mili smiled back shyly, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She had a very captivating smile, Raven thought as he stared at her lips, mesmerised. It started with a small twitch of the corners of her lips, spread timidly to the middle, quivered softly, gathered courage, then reached her eyes, giving their depths a greater intensity. He took a swig at his bottle and curbed an insane desire to touch her.
There was something potent about the combination of darkness and drink, he decided. It brought to the surface emotions and desires that stay buried at the bottom of one’s heart and never dare surface in broad daylight. He looked again at Mili. Her eyes were glittering in the moonlight and he could not look away. ‘Your eyes,’ he whispered, ‘they’re so hypnotic … so intense … You’re the first woman I’ve met whose eyes speak volumes.’
He looked down at her hands as she looked at him incredulously and said, ‘Sir?’
He pulled her right hand into his and caressed her stubby fingernails. ‘Poor nails,’ he mumbled.
‘Oh no, sir, please don’t start again,’ she groaned.
Raven continued to look down and play with her fingers. ‘I feel so calm, so much at peace with myself when I’m with you,’ he said. ‘I don’t feel the need for words. I can be myself when I’m with you.’ He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly. ‘There are very few people in this world who you can actually talk to, and fewer still with whom you can remain silent and yet communicate.’
He emptied his bottle with a glug and called out to the waiter to get him another drink.
‘Sir,’ said Mili in a worried tone, ‘I don’t think you should be drinking any—’
Raven put his fingers on her lips and drawled, ‘Shh! I’m your teacher. You’re not supposed to interrupt me. Now listen …’ He lowered his voice and spoke so softly that he was barely audible. ‘Do you know why I talk to you so much and not to anybody else?’
‘So that I forget my own loss and grief?’
‘Umm … maybe … maybe not …’ He threw the empty whisky bottle into the lake. He watched the rippling waters for a moment, then looked at Mili. Pushing back a tendril of hair that had fallen over her brow, he tucked it behind her ear. Then ever so gently, he cupped her face in his hands. He watched her as she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.
‘I think I’m falling in love with you,’ he said. Then he got up abruptly and went indoors.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mili sat in the library, fiddling with her pigtails and staring at the book in front of her. What happened at the party last night? Did Raven Sir really say he was falling in love with her? Did he mean it? Or was he jesting? Or had he guessed her feelings for him and wanted to see her reaction? She got up and closed her book. She had to know. She went down the stairs and walked to his office. Oh Lord Kishan, be with me, she muttered under her breath as she hesitated and looked around. Then gathering her courage, she knocked on the door.
‘Come in,’ Raven barked.
Mili walked in. She looked at Raven. He was seated at his desk and did not bother to look up. ‘Good evening, sir,’ she said as she sat down. Was she imagining things, or did he still smell of alcohol?
‘What is it, Malvika?’ he asked brusquely, without looking up. ‘I’m busy. Can it not wait until tomorrow?’
Lowering her eyes, Mili began to chew her thumbnail. Oh Lord Kishan. Someone was in a foul mood today. She cleared her throat. ‘Sir, do you remember what you said last night?’
Raven averted his gaze. ‘I’m afraid I had a little too much to drink. I don’t remember anything.’
‘Sir, but you’re a teacher. How could you get so drunk? Aren’t yo—’
‘Yes,’ Raven cut in sharply. ‘Yes, I’m a teacher. But teachers are also human. I made a mistake … like human beings sometimes do.’ He continued to leaf through his students’ essays.
Mili stared at him. He was behaving as though she had already left the room. Or was invisible. She sat in silence for a long time, then whispered softly, ‘Sir, are you sure you don’t remember anything? Or are you afraid?’
‘Me? Afraid? Of what?’
‘Of what people might say?’
‘Have I ever cared about such things?’
‘Then what is stopping you?’
Looking up from his papers, Raven glanced at her. ‘I’m not selfish. That’s all I can say.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You will, with the passage of time. Go home now, it’s getting late. And shut the door behind you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Mili replied quietly and left the room. She dragged her feet to the palanquin waiting for her by the school gate. She got in and sat down. The palanquin swayed uncomfortably as the bearers picked it up and started their descent down the hill.
Mili stared ahead into nothingness as tears rolled down her cheeks. Why was she crying? She had known all along that Raven Sir had not meant a single word of what he said last night. Then why was she upset now? And what did he mean by saying he was not selfish and she would eventually understand? None of what he had said today or last night made any sense. And yet she had hoped against hope … that he too would love her as much as she loved him. Maybe not as much, just half – not even half; if only he could reciprocate even one-tenth of what she felt for him.
She got off the palanquin hurriedly when they reached home and ran towards her room. But Mausi had seen her and noticed her swollen eyes and red nose.
‘Have you been crying?’ she asked tenderly.
‘No, Mausi.’
‘You’re going to lie to me, Mili?’ she said, lifting her chin with her fingers. ‘Won’t you tell me what’s upsetting you? Am I not like your mother?’
Mili pulled Mausi’s hand away. She sat on the sofa and began taking off her shoes. ‘I was reading a sad poem, Mausi, and couldn’t control my tears.’
‘Then go wash your face and come for your meal,’ said Mausi.
‘I’m not feeling too good. I think I’ll skip supper and go to bed right away.’ With that she went to her room and shut the door.
12th August. 1942. Mili was in Gurpreet’s house. She had gone to collect some books she had left behind at Uncleji’s Tuck Shop the other day, when having lunch with him and Jatin.
She looked at Gurpreet. He had let himself go after Vicky’s death. His hair was long and unruly again, beard unkempt. He almost looked like a fakir, except for the haunted look in his eyes. ‘What happened to the rest of the litter?’ she asked as she stroked Bruzo, Gurpreet’s dog, a brown Lhasa apso with an adorable white patch on its forehead.
‘My aunt sent them to different homes. Couldn’t afford to keep them all. But this one is close to my heart, there was no way I was going to let her give him away,’ said Gurpreet as he caressed Bruzo.
‘He’s the one Vicky wanted to take to Mohanagar?’ Mili asked, as she tried to brush Bruzo’s hair off her clothes and grimaced. She was go
ing to smell like a dog all day today.
‘Yes, the greediest of the lot. When he was a puppy, he used to look so funny when he walked. He’d run two or three paces, then fall flat on his face. I got worried and took him to the hakim, thinking there might be something wrong with his legs. But it turned out he was just a little overweight. Fancy that! An overweight puppy.’ He laughed as Bruzo barked at him, looking offended. ‘You’re an absolute glut, aren’t you?’ he lisped, as he playfully pulled Bruzo’s ears. ‘The time when Vicky saw him as a puppy, he used to drink up an entire saucer of milk, while his brothers and sisters barely managed to finish one between the five of them …’
‘Talking of drinking,’ Mili said, ‘you shouldn’t have worried about Raven Sir objecting to your drinking at the party.’
Gurpreet guffawed. ‘True, he was more drunk than I was.’ He stopped playing with Bruzo and looked at her. ‘And what’s between you two? He was stuck to you like a leech all evening.’
Mili looked away. ‘Don’t be mad,’ she eventually said. ‘He’s my teacher.’
‘Yes, and don’t you forget that. A teacher and an Angrez. That reminds me – on our way here, we passed the collector’s car. Wasn’t he our Vicky’s Uncle George?’
‘Yes,’ Mili replied tersely.
‘He was looking at you in a funny way …’
‘That’s because I spat in his face the last time I bumped into him.’
‘You spat at him?’ said Gurpreet, staring at her incredulously.
‘You would too, if you knew what he did to Vicky.’ Mili bit her lip no sooner the words were out of her mouth. She shouldn’t have said that.
‘What? What did he do to Vicky?’ Gurpreet asked. His Adam’s apple moved. He raised his voice. ‘Mili, what d’you know about Vicky that I don’t?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You’re trying my patience, Mili. Tell me.’
‘I can’t,’ Mili replied. She gulped and bit her thumbnail. She had never seen Gurpreet so angry before.
After the Storm Page 19
