A Sahib's Daughter (21 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Samira. “No one’s trying to keep anything from you. I’ve only know Justin a short time. You always think everyone’s in love with me! Oh, Gran.” She put her head in her grandmother’s lap. “It’s been awful, you have no idea! I think it’s all over with Ravi. I haven’t been able to talk about it to anyone. That’s the real reason I wanted to see you.” Her voice broke. It was sheer bliss to be able to unburden herself.

“My poor child,” said Prava. “What went wrong?”

“That’s just it, I have no idea,” she said, sobbing. “He stopped coming to see me, with no explanation. And I know there’s no one else.”

“He needs to have his head examined,” said Prava. “But if I were you, I would have nothing more to do with him. Look at that nice Sahib Justin. So handsome and so polite! What manners! I tell you these Indian men don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Oh, Gran, you’re like a tonic, not always easy to take but very good for the system.” Samira smiled through the tears. “I should have come here sooner. I feel better already. But you mustn’t be too hard on Ravi.”

“Ravi. Pah! I tell you, forget about him. You know nothing about his family even.”

“I know even less about Justin’s,” smiled Samira. “And I seem to remember that you were opposed to mother seeing father at the start. You said Sahibs were not to be trusted.”

“Now, who told you about that? Anyway, things are different for you. You’re a Memsahib.”

“I’m not, Gran, as well you know. I could end up like Sandra Williams, with no one wanting me.”

She had heard the story about how Geoffrey Peters had stood up her mother’s friend at the altar many years ago. After courting her and proposing marriage, he lost his nerve at the last minute, unable to stomach the comments people were making about him marrying an Anglo-Indian. Sandra had been humiliated in front of the entire school. For weeks, the choir had been practicing “The King of Love My Shepherd is” for her wedding. Sandra had already handed in her resignation and was ready to move to the gardens, and her replacement had arrived.

Being St. Jude’s, though, they kept Sandra on and offered her replacement another position at the school. Eventually, she joined her mother who had retired and moved to a flat in Bangalore.

“Your situation is very different from Sandra’s. And times have changed. You have more options now. I’m telling you, if I were you, I would have both of them! A girl like you should have twenty men running after her.”

“Anyway, Justin is too old for me. He’s in his thirties.”

“The older the better, my girl,” said Prava. “The older ones have more money and more sense. I can’t believe Ramona didn’t tell me about him.”

She couldn’t let go of the idea that there was some form of conspiracy against her. “Now, let’s see what Ramchand sent me, and we can decide what to have for dinner.” She was excited about the basket of produce.

Charles always joked that Prava had more growing in her tiny patch than they did in their entire mali-bari. Prava always had something in her garden to compliment her meals, coriander, mint, green chilies or tree tomatoes whose piquancy would fill the kitchen. Mark loved her orange tree, which was dotted with dozens of tiny Clementine during the winter. He would sit in its branches, popping them whole in his mouth, then spitting out the pips as far as he could into the street below.

“Then you’ll be happy to know that I’m meeting Justin tomorrow before he leaves,” Samira told her, as they washed and peeled vegetables. “We’re going for a walk. I thought I’d show him the view from the top of the hill, if it’s not too cloudy.”

“Yes, that does make me happy,” said her grandmother. “And I’m also very happy to have you here with me.”

Chapter 18

Darjeeling, India, 1978

Ramona was in the kitchen supervising dinner and trying to explain to the cook that she needed a pilaf dish to take to the club the following day when she heard the sound of a motorcycle outside. Sure enough, Jetha came in to tell her that Ravi Sahib had arrived.

“Typical,” she thought to herself. “Just when Samira leaves, he decides to visit her.”

“Why, hello, Ravi,” she called out. “It’s been a while since we had the pleasure of your company. Would you like something to drink?”

“Please,” he said, seating himself in one of the wicker chairs. “It’s very hot.”

“Yes, it is. Especially on a motorcycle, I’m sure. Samira’s not here, I’m afraid. She just left for Darjeeling to visit her grandmother. You should have telephoned first.”

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “I need to see her urgently.”

Ramona regarded him coldly and wondered what could be so important after he had neglected her for so long.

“I’m sorry, Ravi. I’m not sure when she’ll be back. I’ll let you know when she returns.”

“No. No. That will be too late. Could I telephone her perhaps? Would you give me her number?”

“Sorry, my mother doesn’t have a telephone.”

“In that case I’ll have to go and see her,” he said. “Please, Mrs. Clarke, may I trouble you for her address? It’s really important. I need to see her urgently.”

“I can’t think what could be so urgent after all these weeks,” said Ramona, conveying her displeasure.

“But here is the address.” She scribbled Prava’s address on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

“Thank you,” said Ravi. “And I’m sorry to have upset you. I’ll go and see her first thing tomorrow.” He looked disconsolate. “Good-bye.”

“How odd,” thought Ramona, watching him drive away. “I’ve never know him to be so nervous and unsure of himself. What’s got into him, I wonder?”

Samira awoke the following morning and flung her little window open, breathing in the sweet mountain air with a sense of anticipation. Being away from home was already renewing her sense of perspective, and she decided that she would start making arrangements to visit Aunt Pauline. She bathed in Prava’s dilapidated bathroom and put on an old white dress and her black sandals.

Prava was on the verandah drinking tea in the morning sunshine.

“Morning, Gran. How are you today?” Samira bent to kiss her.

“Fine, thank you, my girl. You know how I am. As long as the sun shines, I’m right as rain.” She chuckled at her own wit.

“Here’s your tea,” she said, pouring a cup for Samira.

“Thanks. You know, I feel much better already,” said Samira. “I think I’ll go and check if the snows are out before breakfast, if you don’t mind. I won’t be long.”

She gulped her tea and ran up the path to the Mall. The air was fresh and the street deserted at this early hour. Fine morning mists in the valleys below were dissipating as the sun gained strength. She took in the familiar view of the white mountain ranges and could see that it was going to be a gorgeous day.

Prava was finishing her second cup of tea when she heard the sound of a motorcycle on the street below her lane. It roared past, stopped and then roared back again as though unsure of where it was going. Dogs barked at the sound and were loudly berated by their owners.

“What a commotion,” Prava thought. She was cross. She hated these noisy plainspeople who descended on her town in increasing numbers, cluttering up the streets and filling the shops and restaurants. She was even more cross to find the owner of the motorcycle opening her gate and entering her property.

“No parking!” she shouted, although his vehicle was not even within view. He was a plainsman, just as she suspected, and had black hair and olive eyes.

“Excuse me, madam,” he addressed her politely from the path below. “I am looking for Samira Clarke. Is she here, please?”

“And who are you?” Prava demanded, although she already had a good idea who he was.

“I’m Ravi Anand,” he said. “A friend of Samira’s.”

“Samira’s not here.” She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “She went for a walk.”

“Which way did she go, madam?” he pleaded.

Samira was right, thought Prava. He was handsome, though she herself could never trust a man with eyes that color. No wonder the girl was breaking her heart over him! Well, she might as well put him out of his misery. He’d obviously driven a long way to see her.

“She went up that way,” she pointed. “Turn left when you get to the Mall and make a right at Government House.”

“Thank you very much, madam,” said Ravi, making his way quickly up the hill.

She wondered what could have been so urgent for him to drive so far when Samira had only just arrived. He must have left at the crack of dawn. Maybe he was going to propose? Perhaps he’d heard she’d come with Justin? If she were Samira, which man would she choose? That was a tough one, now that she’d seen Ravi.

Samira was enjoying the Sunday morning solitude. She hoped Justin would be up in time to see the snow-capped mountains, although they did not appear to be in any danger of being obscured by clouds today. She had formulated plans for her future during the night, deciding to travel around Europe for a year before returning to India and looking for a job in publishing.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Ravi, of all people, walking towards her. He looked upset.

“Ravi,” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?”

“Sammy, it’s so good to see you.” He put his arms around her and held her close. “With a little help from your mother and your grandmother who pointed me in the right direction, not very happily, I have to say.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I have something to tell you, I felt I should tell you personally,” he said. “I’m going to Delhi for a few weeks. My parents have made, well, certain plans for me that I feel obligated to follow. It’s not what I want for myself. It’s for the sake of the family. I need you to understand that.”

“You’re not telling me they’ve arranged a marriage for you?” Samira asked, horrified. “You, of all people? I thought you said your family was very open- minded and wanted you to make your own choice.”

“I know what I said, and I was telling you the truth. It’s not that I don’t…care for you.” He looked uncomfortable. “But for a marriage to work, people must share similar backgrounds and beliefs.”

“That’s poppycock! Are you saying that my background is so different from yours?”

“Sammy, please don’t. Two months ago, I told my father of my intention to ask you to marry me.”

“And what made you change your mind?”

“What he and my mother said to me. Marriage is not about two individuals coming together, it’s about two families.”

“I understand that, Ravi. I’m Indian, too, remember? I’ve lived here all my life.”

“That’s just it, Sammy,” he said. “If you were Indian, there would be no problem.”

“So, it’s because my father’s a Sahib?”

“It goes deeper than that. You would never belong in Delhi with my relatives.”

“Relatives!” scoffed Samira. “You live here, not in Delhi. And what does it matter what they think?”

“Sammy, please believe me when I say I made all these exact arguments to my father. What my family thinks matters very much, and that’s maybe where we differ. I have a large family, large and closely knit. My relatives are all very dear to me, and I would never do anything to upset them.”