The Letter (14 page)

Nainital increased Margaret’s nostalgia but the children were in robust health, their cheeks reddened by mountain sunshine. She began formal lessons with five years old Pavia, based on a school morning, and the incubation period for diphtheria passed. Afternoons were for recreation. A trim pony and cart were hired for outings. They made a splendid party: Muni, ayah, Margaret and the children, accompanied by bearers, rugs, umbrellas, wicker baskets crammed with delicious food, and all the paraphernalia necessary for jaunts, picnics and boat rides on Nainital’s azure lake. It made up for missing Suleka’s wedding. Margaret knew Suleka would understand and it was probably better for everyone that she didn’t attend.

Margaret’s Indian surname was a target for talk in local circles. Consequently she received no invitations to call and issued none. It made her angry. The effect stranded her on an island of servants, children and domesticity. On the plus side she bought riding boots, jodhpurs and jackets for herself and Pavia.

Margaret had hoped Nainital might be more enlightened. To amuse herself she hired a horse and as soon as it was light rode stealthily into the feathery white mist hanging low in the valley. Diamonds of soft damp dew clung to her flowing hair and sparkled in the horse’s mane. Mountains, trees, land, blurred in cloud revealing little of what lay beyond the path she’d chosen.

All at once the sun was up. She was in the middle of a
kaleidoscope of anemones, geraniums, candulas, aconites,
primulas, orchids, colour on colour, too many and varied to name. The horse cut through the fragrant spectacle sending an extravaganza of nectar-seeking butterflies pirouetting skywards. The faint dark line marking her passage was closed over, erased by bounteous grass.

She rode on serenely thinking of nothing, enjoying the solitude. A group of noisy riders gingerly negotiating the nearby slopes shattered the moment. No doubt they were the latest British soldiers seen swaggering in the town. Whistling and calling they attempted to catch her up. She was put out by their raucous behaviour but amused by their attempt at riding. Clasping reins and digging their heels into the horses’ flanks, they were sweating as heavily as their mounts.

She condescended to wait, chatting amiably while the men tried to control the frisky horses. Once more on level ground, with the calming influence of Margaret’s horse setting a steady pace, the soldiers regained their confidence. Some took the opportunity to flirt with this mesmerizing woman who had appeared from nowhere.

Quickly bored with their banter and the slow pace of the ride Margaret cantered away. Her companions’ horses dashed heedlessly after her. Their riders gamely hung on, fighting to remain in the saddle. Margaret glanced back at the ensuing chaos, so far no one had fallen off, but any posturing would be painful for the next few days.

*  *  *  *  *

She received a letter from the magistrate. A landowner
claimed to have witnessed the horse chase across his lands.
He accused Margaret of reckless riding and cantering her horse on the Mall Road, which was against the local byelaws. She hadn’t considered the ownership of the land but did the man think she was a fool? One was lucky to ride at all through the main road’s hectic traffic! The 25 rupee fine was extortion! She wouldn’t be riding again. Pregnancy had put a stop to that. She avoided payment by returning to Aakesh.

Chapter 18
 

Aakesh
1939

Ben was waiting in the courtyard. He looked washed out as if a painter had begun to rework a canvas. The image was there but the colour gone. He pinched Saurabh’s cheeks. Pavia pushed her brother away to get a share of her father’s affection and began to tell him of their holiday. Ben put his hands on his daughter’s shoulders quietening her, “My darling child. I thought you’d never return.”

“It was just the sickness” Pavia said, “but papa, Where’s dadi?”

Yes, Margaret thought, where was their grandmother? She must have missed the children. They certainly missed her.

“Mama please can we go to find dadi and Aunt Vartika and…”

“Shh Pavia… everyone will be here. They must be busy.” Margaret sent the ayah to find them but Ben called the servant back. Pavia took her sulks to Muni. Margaret grumbled “Don’t think you can return and take over the children.”

“They’re mine. I will do with them what ever I choose.”
The flash of anger was gone. “Let us go in,” he said unhappily. “The servants can amuse the child. Usually there was no shortage of servants to play with Pavia but today no one came forward. Muni and the ayah took the children.

Ben led the way to the study where he slumped into his chair. “My Indian wife and daughter are dead… lost in the diphtheria outbreak. By the time word reached me it was too late. They will no longer trouble you,” but Margaret saw they troubled him.

She had wanted nothing more than to get rid of ‘The
Impostor’ and her child, but not like this. Death was too cruel. She was glad there was no grave. Maybe they would meet in another life?

Ben came to Margaret’s bed and while she comforted him he discovered there was to be another child, to be born in the autumn. It was a sad beginning.

*  *  *  *  *

Hiten gave Ben a malicious letter from the landowner in Nainital, intimating that Margaret’s flirting and irresponsible actions had come to the attention of the magistrate. Ben read the impudent letter and half-heartedly reproached her “Charuni, you must take
better care of yourself. You are not Indian and so at present
your constitution is more delicate.”

“I am as strong as an ox. Look how I recover from bouts of malaria.”

Hiten warned, “The stiff fine imposed by the magistrate will not be forgotten. I suggest it is paid.”

“I’ve no intention of paying it.”

“Vidyaaranya, tell her… think of the family name.”

“I’m adding a new member to the family name,” Margaret said sarcastically. “Let’s think about that. I might not return to Nainital.”

*  *  *  *  *

The ‘Impostor’s’ death bought some stability but it was
no guarantee of Ben’s long term fidelity. After the taste of freedom in Nainital the rigid culture of Aakesh began to grind Margaret down. Under these black clouds she went into labour earlier than expected. Muni was with her but as the hours passed the maid became increasingly worried. The midwife could do nothing. Margaret screamed out in agony. Ben intervened sending his near hysterical mother away; keeping Muni and the midwife to assist him. The baby was in a breech position; too late to turn, delivered wrapped in his mother’s pain. There was no cry.

Ben worked speedily, clearing mucus from the infant’s mouth, expertly rubbing the blue floppy body until with a series of splutters, the baby drew breath. Ben’s cheeks were wet with emotion, “A son! . . . Charuni, we have a son.”

Margaret experienced none of the euphoria that accompanied the births of the older children. Torn, hovering between life and death she didn’t expect the baby to survive. Some twisted logic accepting it as fitting punishment for her treatment of Ben’s dead wife and child.

Once more there were fireworks but Ben stayed at home ministering to his wife and son, checking their heartbeat and respiration. On the following dismal day the baby was placed with its ayah, but immediately he was out of sight Margaret sent Muni to bring him back, refusing a wet nurse. The sickly baby lived, forcing his depressed mother to love him.

Ben’s face grew soft when he held his son. He named him Rajeev. Pavia and Saurabh were far too boisterous to stay quiet for long so their visits were curtailed. Margaret rested.

Paternal custom was again derailed by Ben who supervised the care of his son. It seemed to Margaret that he wanted to spend every second with them. He read poetry to her. His deep melodic voice made the verse come alive. Sometimes they read the
Gita
together, discussing its teachings. She learned lines off by heart to please him. They shared ideas, laughed together at the amusing antics of their older children and prayed for an improvement in the health of their youngest. Margaret was as happy as when they first met in Edinburgh, long before any physical intimacy took place. There was the uniting of minds.

*  *  *  *  *

Margaret didn’t question Ben’s lengthy stay at home and was taken aback when he said, “I was invited to join the British Army before war broke out in Europe. It was an honour and it would have been discourteous to refuse.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was for me to decide. You are used to my being away and I thought it would advance the family.”

“I still haven’t met the Collectors wife! You’re good enough to die for my country but not good enough to take your wife to the mess.”

“You have been here long enough to know how these things work. The war in Europe is not going well. Ghandi is opposed to Indian involvement but Jinnah’s Muslim League is inclined to support it. The British will not talk of independence until the war is over and Jinnah hopes this will gain him influence. If Indian troops are required there is a possibility I will leave with them.”

“Leave India! But you can’t…”

“My Charuni, you know I must. You are British and an officer’s wife. Hiten will protect you and God willing all will be well and things will go on as before. Let us see. It may be that Suleka will move here for a few months. You must miss my sister since her marriage.”

Of course she did but that wasn’t the problem. Ben’s family would believe she had something to do with his decision to join the army. His mother and Vartika must hate her. Hiten in charge meant impending loneliness; for how long? Margaret couldn’t ask Ben to shirk his duty. In the world of men and politics he was true and noble. She admired him for that.

The final command to rejoin his regiment came, as she knew it must. Over the last weeks they had said their sorrowful goodbyes in private. The staff car was waiting. Ben kissed the children, saluted his mother and assembled family. The driver slammed the door shut sending a cold shiver down Margaret’s spine. Nothing would ever be the same.

Chapter 19
 

1940

Hiten went through Margaret’s accounts in detail, cynically intruding into every aspect of her life. She acrimoniously answered his queries and he paid the creditors. He was an excellent administrator. Electricity was to be installed throughout both houses, and they were to have a wireless and telephone. However with Ben abroad he was able to exert a frightening level of control.

Letters made Margaret’s day. Ben’s, from North Africa,
overflowed with affection and enquiries concerning the children and of course his usual guidance. She learned from Scotland that Jean and their brother-in-law Willie were in the Royal Air Force. Willie hoped to become a pilot. Margaret’s mother didn’t like him being so high above the land, writing that he’d have done better keeping his feet on the ground and joining the army like Nan’s husband. The unpretentious letters worrying about Margaret’s health, grumbling about the weather, the war and the shortage of things in the shops bridged the ocean.

Jean wrote enclosing some photographs. In one she was wearing the latest bobbed hair-cut and a short coat with a fur collar. Another showed her perched on a high hedge beaming, put there by some fun-loving young pilots out on a spree. She looked terrific, not at all like the sister Margaret knew. Jean described dances, trips to the mess and a free and easy attitude between men and women, unwittingly reinforcing the difference between their cultures.

Thinking of Jean brought on a wave of homesickness Margaret hadn’t experienced in a long time. Uncertainty was everywhere and it was difficult to keep track of the people she loved. She made offerings to the gods for their safety, throwing in a sprinkling of ‘Hail Marys’ to cover all the angles, trying hard not to think further than the present.

*  *  *  *  *

Margaret couldn’t believe Ben’s latest letter. Surely he wasn’t expecting her to leave the children so she could work as a volunteer with the British. It was bad enough their being without a father but to be without both parents? Well the idea was ridiculous. However he meant it and had written to his mother and Hiten.

Already Pavia and Saurabh led their bearers a dance, leaping over the well, hiding in the stables, or sneaking out of the main gate. They were unaware that once outside the protective walls of Aakesh they risked being kidnapped for ransom or prostitution. Ben’s mother ordered the harassed servants to be beaten on more than one occasion for the children’s naughtiness. Margaret was appalled to see them strutting round the main house, haughtily demanding the servants attend to their whims. Thankfully Rajeev was different, gentle and quiet, but he picked up all manner of coughs and colds. He was happy to be nursed by his dadi, making no attempt to crawl after his impish older brother and sister.

Margaret asked Ben’s mother to be firmer and punish Saurabh and Pavia, not the servants. This brought a tirade from the devoted dadi. Saurabh was her eldest grandson. One day he would be lord of the estates. Superiority and authority was his. He would exert it where he chose.