She frowned.
‘Great Uncle Sahib, don’t say such things—do refugees tell such lies?’
‘People here say they make huge claims. Seems as though no soul was ever poor over there.’
‘It’s not right to say that,’ she said sternly.
Great Uncle Sahib asked, ‘Kashinath, do you have the negative to this photo?’
‘No, Papa ji.’
‘Oh, okay, well, if you don’t have the negative, then let’s show our niece the real thing. Come, let’s go into that room.’
In the other room sat her maternal grandmother, Nani Ma, telling her beads.
‘Nani Ma,’ she cried out.
‘Sister,’ Great Uncle Sahib said. ‘Now stop it with your Ram-Rams, and say Krishna-Krishna. Your granddaughter Krishna has come to distract you.’
She leaned over to greet Nani Ma.
Nani Ma stroked her head and kissed her forehead.
‘You’re happy, yes? All is well in Delhi?’
‘Yes, Nani Ma, I’ve just seen Prakash Aunty and Shanti Aunty in Ahmedabad.’
Great Uncle Sahib began to tease his sister.
‘Sister, you just got here last week and as soon as you arrived you changed your language. Over there, you ask after people’s health with Urdu words like khair-khairyat, and here we say kushal-mangal to ask how they are. But it all just amounts to happiness, doesn’t it?’
Nani Ma acted as though she hadn’t heard him. She closed her eyes again as he spoke. This meant, Leave me alone. I’m telling my beads. Kashinath Uncle motioned for silence and everyone tiptoed back into the drawing room.
‘Kashinath,’ said Great Uncle Sahib, ‘what use is all your medical training? Give your aunt some strengthening medicine. Walking with the kafilas all the way to India is no small matter. There’s an ancient truth in these bodies. But alleviating the fatigue of my sister is your job. I realize her body is old, but her inner strength is ancient.’
‘Papa ji, Aunty is clutching on to a bygone sadness. She’ll slowly recover from the shock.’
‘Was she like this in Delhi as well?’
‘Yes, Great Uncle Sahib. Sometimes she’d just sleep and sleep, and sometimes she’d reminisce about the old fields, the wells, the trees, all left behind. Or she’d talk about the old house and stables, the cows, the buffaloes, the horses . . .’
Suddenly she stopped.
‘Kashinath Uncle, I have to get to Talakshi tomorrow morning. What number bus should I take?’
Great Uncle Sahib and Kashinath Uncle both looked at her with interest.
‘This is the first time you’ve come to Bombay. Will you be able to find the place?’ Great Uncle Sahib asked.
‘Yes, Great Uncle Sahib.’
‘Kashinath, I must admit it. The girl is clever. But tomorrow morning you’re the one who will take her to Hornby Road.’
21
Those seven days flew by in a blur. Here she was again at the Ahmedabad train, returning to Sirohi, standing on the same platform.
If only she were returning to Bombay today! What a difference there is between arriving and leaving.
She was walking slowly towards the train with Kashinath Uncle.
Great Uncle Sahib turned and looked back.
‘Why is this girl walking so slowly? You may not feel like going today, dear, but even so, we’re not going to stop you. Will you ask me why?
‘You see, Kashinath, this niece of yours stayed with us barely a week and such a crowd gathered to see her off. If she stayed too long, would we be able to manage all her friends? No, my dear, no, you have a new job. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
She laughed.
Kashinath Uncle’s friend Dhan ji came forward. He touched her hand and said, ‘Come back soon, Krishna, we’ll be waiting for you.’
Shreenath rushed up to her as well. ‘You have many fans here,’ he said. ‘Pamela was not able to come. She had to work.’
Raman waved to her. ‘Krishna, promise you’ll definitely come back for our wedding.’ He held out a packet to her, ‘Preeti sent this for you.’
‘I have praises for both of you. Thank you. Raman, I liked your girlfriend very much.’
‘I’ll tell her. She’ll be pleased.’
Zutshi Sahib shook hands with Great Uncle Sahib as he walked towards the train. He said pranam and took his blessings.
‘Remember, dear, Bombay is not far from Sirohi. If ever you have any need, send a letter or telegram right away. I’ll come immediately. I’ll use you as an excuse to see Mount Abu.’
‘Yes, wonderful, thank you.’
‘We’ll meet again, don’t forget us,’ said Kashinath Uncle.
‘Never, Uncle!’
She waved from her window. She was sad but also happy. Everyone had looked after her so kindly.
Zutshi Sahib was seated across from her arranging his attaché case. He looked drawn, a bit aloof. Things had not gone well at Talakshi. The incident was still troubling him. He had asked her to put her signature to an untruthful document. She was forced to separate herself from the whole affair. She was just astonished that he and the salesman had seen her as such a simple, needy girl. Whatever items Talakshi did not have, how could they be marked as purchased on someone else’s duplicate list? All this would be sorted out on arriving in Sirohi.
She recollected the brother of Kundan Lal Saigal who lived next door to Kashinath Uncle. His face and manner were identical to those of his movie-star brother. When he had come to meet her, he had said, ‘I wanted to hand-stitch a hemmed kurta for you myself, niece, but there’s not enough time. Next time you come, I’ll show you my skill.’
Great Uncle brought out a kurta from his almirah.
‘Krishna dear, do look at this, the fine hemming this man is capable of!’
22
Astonishing! During the trip back, the sights of Bombay began to push aside the memories of what had been left behind in Pakistan. When she returned to Sirohi, she wrote a letter home.
Gangawa
Swaroop Vilas
Sirohi
Dear Mummy and Papa,
Pranam.
By now you must have received the letter I posted from Bombay.
On my return I immediately came to Gangawa. Phuli Bai and Mishri Bai had cleaned up the whole house. All necessary furniture was also delivered. I feel it was right to come here. I’m sitting on the veranda drinking tea and thinking of all of you.
Swaroop Vilas is neither very close nor very far from Gangawa. And it’s surrounded by gardens. Really, this place is an island of greenery in Sirohi. Close by, it’s quite deserted all around, but the birds mock the isolation with their chirping. I went out for a walk this morning. The flowering chikoo trees look so lovely. The gate to Gangawa is on the outer edge of the road going into the city. There are staff quarters behind it. I am so happy I have got Gangawa to live in. The cook is Hamid Sahib, and there are also two sentries. Both sides of the palace are guarded. Right outside is the well. It has a bricked plinth, and an old tree right next to it provides shade. They say animals sometimes come to drink from the well at night. The cottage is covered in lattice to guard against them. The whole thing looks lovely by day. Yes, when night falls, it’s a bit scary, since they call this ‘the haunted house’. So at night I am quite alert. There’s also an enormous old tree behind the cottage. When its branches touch the sloping roof of Gangawa, the roof tiles jiggle. That’s all I’ve noticed of the ghosts so far. Nani Ma is well in Bombay. Great Uncle is looking after her nicely. Even after living in Poona so long, he is still a pure Alamgarh Punjabi in his manners, and Kashinath Uncle is a complete Bombayite.
One evening, Great Uncle bought tickets to the English cinema for the entire household.
I said, ‘You all go, I’ll stay here with Nani Ma.’
Great Uncle said, ‘That will not happen, we must all go together.’
I tried hard to reason with him, ‘But Great Uncle Sahib, what will Nani Ma get out of an
English picture? Why are you forcing her to go?’
‘Because I can’t leave my sister alone.’
Great Uncle Sahib said to Nani Ma, ‘Get ready, sister. Bring your prayer beads with you. The movie will go on playing and you can just close your eyes and tell your beads.’
Mummy and Papa, I just could not stop giggling. So much so that I couldn’t even look at those two—brother and sister—in the cinema hall for fear I would burst out laughing again.
I liked Kashinath Uncle very much. All the same, it must be said that Ratan Uncle is no slouch when it comes to Mummy’s family either. I was so busy in Bombay that I had no time for shopping at all.
How is Uncle Balraj? I had sent him a small money order. Mummy, everyone in Ahmedabad and Bombay gave me money! I put it all together and made him a money order and said it was from my salary. Please don’t worry at all. Has he agreed to go to the hospital yet? Slowly but surely, everything will work out. Now I’ll stop. Please remember me to everyone.
Your daughter,
Krishna
P.S. They say that until the preschool opens, I’ll be hired as the governess for the Sirohi Court. I’m wondering what I should decide if this happens.
Sitting inside the latticed area, she’d only just stirred her tea when her thoughts took her back to Bombay again. Just then, she heard a car stopping outside.
The pattedar of the European Guest House appeared.
‘The Commissioner Sahib sends his greetings. I’ve received orders to pick you up. He’s sitting on the lawn, drinking his tea . . .’
‘I’ll just take five minutes, please wait.’
She went inside, freshened up her face, put on a new dupatta, changed her shoes and went and sat in the jeep, purse in hand.
They drove by the desi guest house and turned towards the European Guest House.
It was still called the European Guest House! And the decor was completely different.
A green manicured lawn. Tea was set out on the table, and on the chair was seated the administrative personage of Commissioner Mirchandani Sahib.
She got out of the jeep and walked over to the table all along the edge of the grass, out of respect for the lawn, the disciplined rhythm of her court shoe heels propelling her forward.
‘Good afternoon, sir.’
‘Good afternoon.’
Sir glanced at her sharply with an administrative chill.
‘Please sit down.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
She was polite and alert in a manner appropriate for an interview.
‘How are you liking it here?’
‘Sir, once I’ve determined I’ll stay, I’ll make every effort to adjust.’
‘It will take time for the preschool to open. Until then, will you be able to work as the Maharaja’s governess?’
‘Yes, sir, I can try . . .’
‘If you won’t be able to handle it, then . . .’
‘Sir, if I feel that I’m not up to the task, I shall inform you in writing so that new arrangements can be made.’
‘If that happens, then what will you do? Would you like to join Colwin?’
‘Please forgive me, sir. I would prefer not to work at Colwin.’
‘You are being given an opportunity. If you don’t take advantage of it, you will have to return to Delhi.’
‘Yes, sir, I know that.’
Suddenly, Mirchandani Sahib smiled.
‘Take the proposal of looking after His Highness seriously. I am confident that you will be able to handle it well.’
‘Thank you, sir. For my part, I will try my best.’
Commissioner Sahib glanced at his wristwatch, and she stood up from her chair and took his leave.
‘Please make up your mind to do it,’ he said warmly. ‘You’ll be able to handle it. The Queen Mother Maharani has complete faith.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
She walked back across the lawn as though victorious in the field of battle after a long struggle. Arriving in Gangawa, she sat down on the veranda and drank some tea. She looked towards the inner rooms. The dim bulb hanging in the doorway. Temporary wires. At this pace, the wiring would take five or six more days. What a difference between Bombay and Sirohi. A big world. A small world. One new and one old. One megacity and one ancient city of Rajasthan, muted and silent within itself.
And what to say about Bombay?
23
Two days before I left Bombay, the entire family had gone to the seashore for a picnic. Great Uncle Sahib had told Nani Ma, ‘Sister, if you wish to bathe, go sit on that cliff. If you bathe daily in the sea, you will really take to it.’
‘If I’d brought some cloth or a towel . . .’ murmured Nani Ma.
‘No need to worry, my dear sister. I’ve brought you a sheet from the house. I was thinking that bathing in the sea would cheer you up no end. Krishna dear, do go and help your Nani Ma.’
Nani Ma sat behind the rocks and took off her clothes. She covered her body in the sheet in such a way that one couldn’t even tell she’d removed her clothing.
She handed me her clothes and went in to take a dip. There she stood, hands clasped together, and prayed: Oh God of the Sea! I’ve left behind my religious books and my shaligram and set out from my home. Sea God, protector of rivers, forgive my sins. Please do something to save my pure books and my shaligram from falling into evil hands. Sea God, immerse them in your waters.
Nani Ma began to wipe the tears from her eyes.
I felt such deep love for Great Uncle Sahib at that moment. I realized I had started to cry along with Nani Ma.
24
She lay in bed for a long time after her morning tea. She wasn’t saying anything to herself. There was only one thought in her mind: that she had to be ready on time—she was to present herself at Swaroop Vilas Palace. She bathed and came outside. The breakfast tray was sent out by Hamid and rested on the table. She sat and gazed out through the lattice. Gangawa. It would have been nice to stay here.
She looked at the clock, then went inside and opened her suitcase.
She selected a few suits. What colour to wear? She flipped them over, looked them up and down, then took out the suit her room-mate, Svarn Seth, had given her as a gift and spread it across the foot of the bed. A delicate pink gharara and kurti, and a dupatta fringed with a silver border.
Phuli Bai watched wide-eyed.
‘Bai Sahiba will look splendid!’
As she looked over at Phuli Bai, somehow Zuber Bhai appeared standing before her. Her hand rested on her dupatta for a few moments.
‘Don’t be offended, Lali, my friend,’ he had said, ‘but this sister of yours is always staring at others with the delicate mischief of her subtle colours.’
‘But Zuber Bhai,’ she said, ‘you like bright, shiny colours, don’t you? Don’t look at these.’
‘No, I like the kind you’re wearing. Or that deep purple you wore on your annual day—I remember so many things about you.’
‘Thank you, Zuber Bhai!’ she had said with feeling. ‘Today you’ve given me a gift. And I had thought you didn’t even notice my colours. And so, I will give you a treat—what will you take? Kulfi or ice cream?’
After Zuber had left, she and Lali, her distantly related paternal cousin-brother, stopped by the gate of her hostel. ‘Listen,’ Lali Bhai advised her, ‘there’s no need to get too cosy with Zuber these days. Nowadays, conflicts can get stirred up over the slightest thing.’
Where had it gone, that banter and flirtation? Where had those faces disappeared?
She put on her shoes, arranged the dupatta around her neck, opened her purse and checked herself in the compact, then set out towards Swaroop Vilas Palace, carried by the measured pace of her court shoes. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.
25
The two gleaming swords of the Sirohi coat of arms, symbols of the ancient history, right at the entryway of the palace. Emblems of the princely state’s plateau-born valour. A guard stationed
outside the doorway. Just one step up, Jay Singh Sahib, the Aide-de-Camp of the adopted Maharaja of Sirohi, Tej Singh.
‘Welcome. Please come in, Miss Sahiba, first we’ll show you your rooms.’
After crossing the veranda, he slid open a pair of double doors.
In one corner, a bed, and in the other, an enormously long sofa. A set of stairs rose between the two.
‘Show Bai Sahiba the upstairs bathroom,’ ADC Jay Singh Sahib ordered Phuli Bai.
She climbed the three or four marble steps and glanced to the left.
Could one possibly desire anything else besides such a bathroom? she wondered.
She walked back down and thanked the ADC Sahib.
‘Thank you, I’ll not have any trouble here. Everything is fine.’
‘Please come, now let’s meet Colonel Sahib. We must do everything according to his orders.’
The ADC Sahib removed his shoes outside Colonel Sahib’s drawing room. Bai followed suit.
Colonel Sahib was seated upon the sofa.
‘Good morning, sir,’ she greeted him.
‘Good morning, miss.’
A truly impressive military countenance with a tightly coiled turban and enormous moustaches adorning his colonel-ish face. What regiment must this gentleman belong to!
As soon as they entered the doorway, Jay Singh Sahib introduced her to him: ‘Ma’am, this is Colonel Kamdar Bhikham Lal ji. If you need anything, you can apply to him.’
Stairs climbing up from the entryway. A long row of windows. Stripes of light and shadow like shot silk pattern the anteroom that opens into the square hall. The Maharaja of Sirohi and his senior and junior mothers all enthroned upon the sofa as though set in an elegant frame.
Jay Singh Sahib introduced them to her: ‘Senior Ma ji Sahib, Maharaja Tej Singh Sahib and Junior Ma ji Sahib.’
The Maharaja’s face was delicate and refined: sparkling diamonds in his tiny ears and a naughty smile. His Highness was tickling the Senior Ma ji Sahib.
‘Khamma, Bavasi,’ said ADC Sahib, addressing the Maharaja, ‘this is your new governess.’
A Gujarat Here, a Gujarat There Page 11
