The Hope of Shridula (14 page)

"Come with me to see the landlord," Ashish said to Dinkar. "We will plead with him together."

But when Saji Stephen saw them coming, he locked his door and refused to meet with them.

When Jyoti stumbled in from the paddy, too weak to boil the weeds she brought, her young son, Falak, said, "I will get food for us."

"No!" Jyoti cried in terror. "Remember what the landlord did to your brother!"

"I know where to get something for us," Falak said. "Do not worry. I will be safe."

The boy sneaked up to the landlord's house, intending to yank a few vegetables from his garden and be on his way. But Saji Stephen, suspecting someone would try such a trick, had arranged for his servant Udit to sleep in the garden and guard it.

Falak made it all the way up to the garden before he heard Udit snoring. He dropped down and crept in among the vegetables. Quaking with terror, he reached out to grab a cucumber. Udit snorted and sat up straight. With a yelp, Falak jumped up and bounded for the path. He leapt over the greens and jumped directly into a chicken's nest. The clutch of eggs crushed under his feet.

All the way back to the settlement, Falak sobbed. No cucumber, no greens. And those wonderful chicken eggs—all crushed under his clumsy feet.

Jyoti lay in her hut, too weak to move. Across the settlement, Kashi lay in hers, nothing in her stomach but weeds.

Falak sat outside his mother's hut and wailed in hopeless despair.

Zia, still lying awake under the
neem
tree, listened to her neighbor. She started to speak, but Ashish shushed her. "There is nothing to do," he warned. "We must each attend to our own affairs."

But Ashish didn't speak for everyone. Certainly he did not speak for Jinraj. "If the landlord will not give us our due, we will take it!" the young man shouted into the night. "Come with me, brothers! We will tear the door off the storage shed and take what is rightfully ours! Tonight we will eat!"

One person after another took up Jinraj's cry. The call echoed from hut to hut to hut until a cacophony of angry voices rose up in one unified bellow. Men and older boys rushed into the night to join Jinraj, who had already started his march to the shed. Small water boys, too young to work in the fields, ran along after, and no one tried to stop them. Old men, swept up in the moment, stumbled behind.

With a roar, the mob rushed the storage shed. Calloused hands slammed against it and determined feet kicked at it again and again. Some men had brought sticks, and they set to work battering the door. Others picked up rocks and pelted the shed until the walls splintered.

Zia sat still and watched the last of the night shadows dance and sway in the eerie glow of dying cooking fires. She heaved a satisfied sigh.

"The landlord will not forget this night," Ashish warned.

Zia nodded. "Neither will we. And for one morning, we will rise up with our stomachs full."

16

August 1946

A
shish slipped from his sleeping mat under the
neem
tree. The rains had eased, leaving the earth clean and fresh. In front of the next hut, Jyoti moved about, her water pot on her head. Few others in the settlement stirred, but soon they would. Full rice bags made a big difference. Full stomachs even more.

With long strides, Ashish headed toward the first paddy. This day, of all days, he must be hard at work. This day, of all days, must hold the hope of good harvest.

"
Appa!"

Ashish turned to see Shridula running up behind him. "I like the cool morning," she said.

Ashish smiled and shortened his steps.

Under the rising sun, Ashish stepped up to the maturing rice stalks. "Look at the weeds," he muttered in disgust. "Weeding should have been completed weeks ago. Crops should have been thinned, too."

He raked the stalks through his fingers with the touch of an expert. Looking at the stunted grains in his hand, he shook his head.

"Will it still be a terrible harvest?" Shridula asked.

"Come," Ashish said. "Your
amma
will have porridge on the fire."

"No, no! I said no!" Amina's voice grated throughout the landlord's house. "Father-in-law said
you
must watch over the girl!"

"He also said the girl was to watch over your children," Sheeba Esther answered.

"My children have me to watch over them. They need no one else!"

Ten years younger than her sister-in-law, Sheeba Esther was in the habit of backing down whenever Amina shouted orders or issued ultimatums. But not this time. This time the great landlord himself had told them what was to be.

Sheeba Esther glanced over at Glory Anna. The girl looked miserable, as if she were trying to shrink into the corner and disappear.

Rajeev Nathan stepped into the fray. "My wife is right. I do not want that girl in our living area. There is not even room enough for our own family. And my wife does not require Glory Anna's help."

"It is your father-in-law's decision, not mine," Sheeba Esther said to Amina. "If you do not like the arrangement, tell it to him." Her words were strong, but she spoke them in such a soft voice that both Amina and Rajeev Nathan laughed at her.

When Nihal Amos heard the sharp words coming from his brother and his brother's wife, he knew his Sheeba was their target. And he knew, whatever she said in response, her words would be gentle. So he hurried to stand beside her.

In the end, the two brothers took their dispute to their father. "Our wives have no desire to move over and make room for Glory Anna," Nihal Amos said, "nor should they have to."

"And my children should not have to obey the voice of a stranger," Rajeev Nathan added.

Saji Stephen sighed in exasperation. "The girl is here," he said. "What am I to do with her?"

"Is she not to be married next year?" Rajeev Nathan asked. "Why not push the date forward? Why not marry her now and be done with it?"

Bathed, oiled, and his belly filled, Saji Stephen called, "Udit! I want to go out and check the rice paddies."

His servant stared in surprise. Saji Stephen never went to the fields. He asked few questions about the crops or the workers. Except to shout threats at Ashish, he seemed completely removed from their work.

"Now!" Saji Stephen said impatiently. "This moment! Bring the horse cart around to the veranda for me."

Saji Stephen continued to insist that his overseers bore the responsibility for the crops and harvest. Of course, he eagerly awaited the opportunity to take credit for a successful season. Still, in the months since his brother was murdered, his approach had been to keep his distance from the actual work of the fields.

No one asked questions about his brother anymore. The police had come back one time, but with reassurances from Saji Stephen and his sons, and a generous loan ready and waiting, they seemed satisfied that no one in the landlord's family could possibly have wished Boban Joseph Varghese any harm. Nor could they find any guilt in the old English missionary. So they simply stopped asking questions, and not one person complained.

Once in the cart, Udit directed the horse along the village road until they came to a pathway that led down between the fields. They passed by an empty rice paddy, then continued on to a second one that was well-flooded. Udit slowed the cart.

"It looks good," Saji Stephen said with hopeful assurance. "Plenty of green in the paddies."

Udit said nothing.

"Green and tall. Most assuredly, I shall have a fine rice harvest. Do you not agree?"

"Those are weeds you see," Udit said.

Saji Stephen, his face burning, glared at Udit's back. He longed to snap out a cutting retort. A snide counter that would inform the Sudra that anything the master didn't know wasn't worth knowing. But he couldn't make his mouth form one coherent word. So he ordered, "Take me back! I have seen enough."

When elderly Uncle Dupak arrived, Saji greeted him with an unnecessarily lavish meal. Uncle Dupak was an extremely important man in the area. He was also "family": the brother of Saji Stephen's sister's mother-in-law, herself from a wealthy and important family. Saji Stephen spoke of the endless rains and bragged about his prosperous rice paddies. He plied Uncle Dupak with a spread of fruits and nuts and platters of sweetmeats.

"My nephew's wife, your sister Sunita Lois, spoke to me about your desire to find a good husband for your daughter," Uncle Dupak began.

"Not a particularly good husband," Saji Stephen quickly corrected. "That is to say, I am of limited means."

Uncle Dupak glanced about him, fixing his gaze on the golden bowl of cashews and the silver platters of fruit. Then he looked down at the luxurious Persian carpet on which Saji Stephen sat. He wrinkled his face and grunted.

"Yes, yes, I realize this all looks to be quite profitable," Saji Stephen said quickly. "But costs are high, you see, and my rice crops are in danger of being choked out by weeds."

Uncle Dupak cleared his throat more forcefully.

"I was counting on a successful harvest to fund the dowry, but my workers have been lazy and my overseers most uncooperative. They shall suffer for it, that I can assure you. But punishment doesn't produce rice, does it?"

Uncle Dupak selected a small red banana from the stalk and slipped off the peel.

"I do have a great deal of prestige in this area, as I am sure you know," Saji Stephen hastened to say. "Power and influence as well. Anyone who marries my . . . who marries Glory Anna, would certainly gain in those most valuable areas. Surely that would be worth a lot to a prospective husband."

Saji Stephen looked at Uncle Dupak and waited for him to speak.

Uncle Dupak wiped the banana from his fingers and helped himself to a handful of cashews. He said nothing.

"Well?" Saji Stephen asked. "Can you find a suitable husband for Glory Anna?"

"Certainly," Uncle Dupak said. "Absolutely."

"Keeping the dowry limitations in mind?"

"Yes." Uncle Dupak helped himself to more cashews. "As a matter of fact, my nephew tells me the dowry is not a problem. It has already been paid."

"Paid?" Saji Stephen asked. "By whom?"

"Your father," Uncle Dupak said. "Years ago."

Saji Stephen's face went pale. Taking care to control his voice, he asked, "How did he pay it?"

"With a fine collection of gold jewelry and gems," Uncle Dupak said. "And gold coins. Most generous, he was! A very fine dowry indeed."

Saji Stephen jumped to his feet. "Father's wealth? Glory Anna's marriage will be paid for with my rightful inheritance?"

"Your father added further terms, too," Uncle Dupak said. "The girl is not to be married before her fourteenth birthday. Which is next year, I believe. Until that time she is to live here in this house, in comfort and in peace."

"But . . . my father had no right to . . . to—"

"Oh, but he had every right. One more thing: Should anything go wrong . . . Should the girl encounter any difficulties or express dissatisfaction with her situation here . . . Well, in such a case this house and all the lands with it would go to your sister's husband to settle Glory Anna's dowry claims and provide for her future comfort."

Saji Stephen shook with fury.

Uncle Dupak reached for another banana.