A Garland of Marigolds (6 page)

The idea of a bath was sheer bliss.

“
Is
it really possible to have a
bath?
”
I
asked her

The
fragile little woman bowed
gracefully.

“
It will be my pleasure to serve
you while
you are here,
”
she said in her soft voice.
“
My name is Lakshmi.
”

“
Lakshmi? The goddess of
happiness?
”
I
was proud to be able to
show
off my meager
knowledge
of her religion.

She smiled.
“
She has
a little to
do with prosperity also,
”
she added.
“
If you will
f
ollow me I
shall prepare your bath.
”

We
went out
of the main
room with its formal chairs and beautiful rugs on
the polished
floor to explore the rest of the house. One or two
pictures,
faded photographs for the most part, hung on the walls
that were
decorated with colored pieces of
paper.

The
plan
of
the
rooms was
simple. Somewhere in the center was
the kitchen, a small hole
where the cook managed superbly with a small
brazier and a few unlikely
pots. He squatted
on
the floor and ground his
spices on a
flat stone amidst a clutter
of
utensils. Out of
the chaos emerged several
meals a day all immaculately served. It
was a constant source
of wonder to us all.

The bedrooms were
spartan, each furnished only with a single bed,
a small table, a
chair and hanging recess hidden by a
much-faded curtain. There
were three of
them,
all exactly the
same. It was easy to recognize
Gideon
’
s. Immaculately tidy, it
nevertheless betrayed his
presence by the titles of the few books
and the single strange
sculpture that hung on
the
wall.

We passed the second
room and went into the third.

“
You will be comfortable
here?
”
she asked.

I looked at her
in surprise.

“
I thought
... I was told
that
I
was sleeping in another house,
”
I
said.

“
With the little
memsahib,
”
she agreed.
“
This is only for your
bath. I will bring it
to you now.
”

With a flash
of orange she was gone and I was left alone. Down the
corridor
I
could
hear Camilla
’
s cheerful laughter and enough
splashing to make
me envious. It seemed that she was already in
the bath and I would
have to wait until she was finished. But two seconds
later
Lakshmi
was
back carrying an enormous tin bath of
the type I
had seen only in illustrations in old-fashioned books. She
laid
it
on
the
floor
and filled it from buckets of hot water.

“
Thank you very
much,
”
I said, expecting her to go, but she did nothing
of the sort.
Gently, she helped me into the bath and
cupping
her
hands
together poured the water over me.

“
This is from the Ganges.
This is from the Jumna.
”
And so on, naming the Indian rivers one by one, the holy rivers of India. It was
an attractive
custom, but one which was dying out, she told me,
half-shamefaced.
She had been brought up by her
grandmother, she told
me, and had learned the custom from her.

It was very
pleasant soaking in the hot water. In contrast the air
seemed quite cool,
and by the time I had dried myself and dressed,
I felt
quite
fresh.

Camilla
was
still
soaking in her bath when I went past Gideon
’
s room
so
only the two men were on the verandah as I went out. They both
stood
up to
greet
me, their cane chairs creaking comfortably.

“
Sit down and
I
’
ll
get you a drink,
”
Joe said immediately.

I frowned at him.
“I ...
I don
’
t think I will,
”
I
said shyly.

“
Okay,
”
he agreed easily.
“
On your head be it.
”

I sat uneasily on the only vacant chair and watched the two men as they joked
with
each other, tacitly consenting to let me alone until I should
proffer a
remark of my own. I hunted through my mind for something interesting to say and came up with precisely nothing.

“
Th
e
panchayat
is
coming
up later
to discuss the water supply,
”
Joseph
told
Gideon over
his shoulder, helping himself to another drink.

Gideon
grinned.
“
Sheer curiosity!
”
he laughed.
“
They want to
see the girls!
”

Joseph looked
straight
at me.
“
This one will keep them in
order,
”
he
teased
me.

I could feel Gideon
’
s eyes
burning into
my
turned away face.

“
The
panchayat
are the
village
elders,
”
he drawled.

I
turned
to look at him.
“
H-how many of them are there?
”

“
A dozen. Someone has to represent each of the many and varied interests in the village.
”

I began to suspect he was teasing me.
“
And they are?
”

He considered for a moment.
“
Caste,
”
he began,
“
and sub-castes; the landowners and the land-hungry; those who want to build a dam for irrigation purpose and those who don
’
t, and so on.
”

The very idea of having to deal with such a committee appalled me.

“
How—how madly democratic!
”
I said faintly.

Gideon
’
s eyes twinkled appreciatively.

“
There
’
s hope for you yet,
”
he said.

But nothing he had said prepared me for the reality of the meeting. One by one the old men trooped onto the verandah, raised their hands in greeting and sat down with their legs knotted before them on the floor.

“
Are we ready?
”
Gideon asked. He looked very strong and inflexible as he towered above them on his chair. One of the old men smiled at him sheepishly.

“
The
Swami
is not yet come,
”
he said smoothly.

Gideon frowned.
“
He does know we are meeting?
”

The same old man answered,
“
Of course.
”

Camilla, with her hair done up on top of her head and her neck still wet from her bath, came sailing out of Gideon
’
s room and came to join us on the verandah. Her eyebrows rose spectacularly when she saw the assembled party, but although she was younger she was more self-possessed that I could ever hope to be.

“
Good evening,
”
she greeted them with a dazzling smile.

The old men rose in a single wave of movement.

“
How pleasurable to make your acquaintance,
”
said their spokesman, and the others nodded emphatically around the circle.

“
How lovely to see you all!
”
Camilla responded cheerfully. She clasped her hands together in inspiration.
“
Is there any lemonade?
”
she asked Gideon.

It was Joseph who went to the kitchen and came back with a tray of ice-cold bottles and a bundle of straws. The old men sucked contentedly at their straws and then, suddenly, a young man with wild matted hair and an orange robe that barely covered his nakedness walked in. Gideon greeted him with evident pleasure, and I offered him a bright green bottle which he gravely rejected.

“
Though it is good to see such progress and to have all these good men taking refreshments together,
”
he added with a flash in his eyes.
“
I shall sit here and study the problems we have before us.
”

He sat down quickly at my feet and bowed slightly to the other men. With his coming everybody had burst into excited chatter, but at his signal there was complete silence again.

“
We have come to talk about the well,
”
the spokesman said in his careful English.
“
We have paid much for this benefit and, as yet, we can get no water there.
”
It was a bare statement of fact, unadorned and uncomplicated.

The
Swami
sat in silence, apparently not listening at all. The others, more confident now the original point had been made, were positively lyrical about their previous expectations from the new water supply and how badly letdown they felt. Finally, when the last man had spoken, the
Swami
turned to Gideon.

“
Is this true?
”
he asked quietly.

Gideon nodded.

“
As far as it goes. We are waiting for the electricity to be turned on. As it is it has to be manipulated by hand and the women prefer the old tank down by the sugarcane.
”

“
And the electrician?
”
the
Swami
prodded gently.

“
Has not been paid,
”
Gideon supplied wryly.

There was an immediate outburst of indignation as all the old men tried to explain why their particular group in the village was not responsible for this omission. With mounting excitement they told how the electrician had come and had done the work and then had removed the operative fuse until his bill had been paid in full. But how could they pay until they had water to irrigate their crops?

The
Swami
listened to them all, waiting patiently while the flow of words went over his head and gradually stilled to a whisper.

“
Be that as it may,
”
he said calmly,
“
it is very annoying to be deprived of your water. What remedy do you suggest?
”