In the Shadow of a Dream (15 page)

Minnie’s husband, a man of supreme confidence and erect bearing, seemed taller than he was. His hard mouth, below a pencil thin moustache, conveyed a no-nonsense demeanour that was contrary to his soft, tired eyes, the result of Bridge sessions, which went on till midnight, when he was to be seen always with a glass of Scotch and soda by his side. Yet he never failed to be punctual on parade or smartly turned out. There was about him an air of enigma and his apparent indifference to his wife’s beauty intrigued cadets who, to a man, drooled at the sight of her and looked forward to the occasions when she made an appearance. Chief among these was the Annual Sports Day and Pagal Gymkhanna when, as the Commandant’s wife, she gave out the prizes. How the average cadet envied the prize winners for the privilege of shaking her hand!

At Tejpore, during training, stress was laid on cadets to acquire “OLQ” (officer like qualities). This meant that the prime requirements for officers, as future leaders, were education and intelligence. Consequently, almost all officer cadets came from the urban, Indian middle-classes. But, as it was also important to be physically fit, it became necessary to take in cadets at school leaving age. Competition in sports and games was encouraged. Clearly, those who were both mentally and physically adept were the most likely to achieve the aims of the Military Academy.

As always in such institutions there are exceptions: candidates with rare abilities were grateful for a unique opportunity to prove their worth, and were most likely to shine. Apart from Dusty, only three other cadets on his course had a boyhood history of regular physical exercise and endurance and when it came to athletic prowess, they had no rivals. Of these other three, two were from the hills of Garwhal, and the third, a Dogra had, like Dusty, a rural background.

The Annual Sports Day Gymkhanna, the grandest and most colourful affair of the Tejpore’s social calendar, was invariably held in the third week of December, before the break up for the Christmas holidays. Large tents, decorated with pennants, flags and freshly painted white ropes, bordered the sports field. Here the neat, demarcated lanes of the racing tracks gleamed in the afternoon sun. In front of the VIP marquee, a large table displayed the trophies, silver cups, medals and shields, to be awarded. The Day began at 2 p.m. and following the prize-giving at 6 p.m. the day ended with a dinner and dance that went on till midnight.

Dusty, representing B Company in the long distance track events, had already won the Cross Country Marathon race, which, because it needed a full afternoon to plan, was held the day before. But as he was also competing in two other races, he hoped to collect at least two more trophies. He won the eight hundred metres, but in the mile, the Dogra beat him to second place.

‘You must be six feet tall,’ Minnie said, as she offered her hand.

Dusty held her hand lightly and bowed—all competing cadets had been rehearsed by Sergeant-Major Vallins on how to accept their awards. ‘Five ten, ma’am.’

‘Well, I wasn’t far wrong,’ Minnie said, taking the Inter-Company Marathon Race Shield from her husband and would have dropped it, had Dusty not deftly reached out to steady her hands. ‘Goodness! I didn’t realise it was heavy,’ she said with a charming smile and studied his face. ‘You look familiar. I believe we’ve met before, haven’t we? But, of course, you’re the young man who kindly…’ she turn to her husband. ‘Darling, this is the young man, I told you about, who surrendered…’

‘I know. He’s been pointed out to me. I suppose he had no choice.’

‘Nonsense, Joe, he could have held out. He wasn’t to know who I was.’

‘My dear, you’re looking at one of the sharpest boys in his course.’ The General nodded towards Dusty and waved a dismissing hand. ‘Next, Sar’Major.’

After dinner the Annual Ball was held at the Bharat Sena Hall, to which Officers, their wives and daughters; and prize-winning cadets, were invited to attend. General Sen Gupta and Minnie opened the Ball, watched by a line of nervous cadets in their best blue uniforms. The pair glided, a little stiffly on the General’s part, to the strains of Johann Strauss’s
Blue Danube
, fairly adequately played by a five-piece orchestra consisting of a tenor saxophone, a bass clarinet, a muted trumpet, the upright piano transferred from the Cadets’ Café, and drums. The musicians were members of the Academy’s Military Brass Band, except the pianist who, hired for the evening, was from Tejpore’s
Golden Slipper
restaurant. The General tried hard not to look bored, but he need not have troubled; all eyes were on the graceful Minnie.

When he got to the middle of the floor, the General said: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, do join in.’ The officers led their wives on to the floor, the cadets hesitated, some of whom, having had dancing lessons from Dusty two days earlier, awaited his signal to take the dreaded leap, and having got it, timidly approached the tables, where the few ladies left still sitting appeared to regard their advance with some alarm. But, most of the cadets, realising they outnumbered the women, two to one, regrouped to remind each other of their earlier gentlemanly agreement to take turns, unaware that some women, realising that they would be on the floor without a break, made excuses, and the disappointed cadets had the added onus of having to stay and entertain them.

Dusty had assessed this situation. Wisely he withdrew himself and drawing a chair nearer to where the band was playing, sat down and wearily stretched his long legs. The band switched to the
Tennessee Waltz
and he began involuntarily tapping his feet in time to the music. The tune reminded him of Sam’s valiant efforts to teach him the waltz before he left for the Poona Army Selection Board. ‘Just in case,’ Sam had said. ‘I’m told the waltz is popular in Army circles, where everyone tries hard to copy the Brits of the Raj. So you ought to learn the waltz and ballroom etiquette too.’ Sam had a record of the
Tennessee Waltz
, which was played again and again on his radio-gram. But he soon gave up. ‘It’s no good. It’s the blind leading the blind. We’ll need professional help.’ And so the petite Shirley Boston of the Victor Sylvester Ballroom Dancing School, First Floor, Faircourt Mansion, Flora Fountain, Bombay, entered his life—sweet, patient Shirley Boston, the first to stir his libido, who with every new lesson danced closer and closer till he felt the softness of her shapely breasts…then, that last day, on the top stair, to give her the necessary height, a soft kiss, the lightest of touch, the first kiss in his life, making his lips tingle…even now, as he recalled it.

‘Young man, I see you’re not dancing?’ The clipped Sandhurst accent of General Sen Gupta broke into his reverie.

Dusty jumped to his feet and clicked his heels. ‘I’m not a good dancer, sir.’

‘Who is? An officer and gentleman’s not supposed to be. That’s for spivs. There, come with me to my table. Keep Minnie company. It’ll release me to play a rubber or two before the night’s over.’

‘I’m afraid, sir, I can only do the waltz and quick step.’

The General laughed. ‘Nobody expects you to do the tango, young man. Besides, between you and me, the fox-trot and waltz are the entire repertoire of this band.’ He nodded at the Gurkha, who had just put his clarinet down. ‘
Bahoot achcha
! Thapar sahib. Well done! S
habash
!’ Then, as if to prove the General wrong, the band broke into
Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White
, giving the till now, not used, trumpeter his first moment of glory. Sen Gupta shrugged his shoulders and raised his brows. ‘I forgot the Samba. Oh, well, just kick your heels and touch your elbows. In fact, just follow Minnie. She’s so good, your antics will go unnoticed.’

They reached the General’s table. ‘Minnie this is Gentleman Cadet Sam Dustoor.’

‘Darling, I know Sam. He received a shield, two cups and a medal this evening. I was surprised he did not compete in the field events, and even more surprised not to see him on the dance floor.’

Dusty bowed. Earlier in the evening, while he was dressing up, he had been told, in a tone of utmost confidentiality, by his Senior Under Officer, that Minnie was ten years younger than her husband. From where he stood, she looked even younger.

‘Well, my dear, he’s kindly agreed to be your escort. Be kind. He says he’s no dancer. Come on, Malhotra, be the third man. A pity, Minnie won’t bridge the gap.’

‘It’s such a waste of time, Darling. And when I try, well you know what happens.’ Minnie studied her husband. ‘I won’t say more.’ She turned away with a slight smile and an arrogant toss of her pretty head. ‘Do sit down, Sam, and first let me introduce you to those left at our greatly depleted table…’ she stopped. Captain Sunil Malhotra rose, bowed to Minnie and left with the General into the far end of the hall. ‘This is Malti, Mrs Malhotra, just deserted by her hubby, and Colonel Ali Abbas—that’s Mrs Abbas on the floor with Colonel Dhanraj, who…’ She stopped as Captain Malhotra returned to tell Malti he would be in the adjacent Ante-room, and that when she felt bored, to join him there. He then threw a rather hostile glance, Sam thought, at him, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the drinks bar. ‘As I was saying,’ Minnie went on, ‘Colonel Dhanraj, who I gather you met on the train early in January, leaves us and Colonel Abbas is taking over as Chief Instructor.’

‘Yes, ma’am, we’ve heard Colonel Dhanraj’s leaving Tejpore.’

‘Not just Tejpore. He’s leaving the Army. His father-in-law is buying him out, or whatever one needs to do to get out of the Army. You’ve also met Janaki, Colonel Dhanraj’s wife—when you returned the trench coat he lent you. Don’t be surprised, little happens here I don’t hear about. Now, are you going to ask me to dance? We missed the Samba. This is a quick step.’

Dusty stood up and bowed. ‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?’

‘Thank you. You certainly may.’ They took a few steps, stopped, and started again.

‘You dance beautifully, ma’am.’

‘So would you, if you didn’t hold me at arm’s length, as if I were a leper; and never mind the formalities and compliments. Just relax.’

‘Relax?’ Dusty grinned, a little embolden. ‘Relax with the Commandant’s wife?’

‘Precisely. I shan’t eat you.’

For a while they did not speak. Dusty, concentrating hard on his steps in an effort to keep in time to the music, and succeeding. ‘Well done, Sam’ Her grey-green eyes rested on his face calmly. He looked away. ‘You learn fast. Colonel Dhanraj, says you’re a genius, gifted with a brilliant memory.’

He looked at her. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You are what you are. Acknowledge it, and be proud you’re talented. I don’t see why gifted people should be modest.’

‘Modest. I keep being reminded by my instructors, even by Colonel Dhanraj, that I need to be, as they say, cut down to size.’

‘What size? Your size? You should ask…no, don’t. That’ll be cheek and the Army doesn’t tolerate cheek.’

Dusty gave a wry smile. ‘My memory’s showing signs of rusting.’

‘Well, like all things that need maintaining, it requires exercise. And the Army is the last place for someone with…especially with your knowledge of literature. You should have gone into university education.’

‘Sam—I mean, my-my father said exactly that.’

‘You mean your guardian.’

‘Yes. Sorry I meant to…’

‘Anyway, I take all that back. I don’t see why the Army should be bereft of talent. As my husband says, there’s room for all types in the Army. Besides you’re not just a brain, you’re…’ she grinned as she pinched his biceps, ‘brawn also. Where does that athletic ability come from?’ He looked down at the top of her head and hesitated as she looked up. ‘You don’t have to answer. I don’t mean to be inquisitive.’

‘But I’m no good at PE and swimming.’

‘You’ll get all the practice you need here. Ouch!’

‘Sorry, did I tread…?’

‘No, don’t apologise. My fault entirely. My mind wandered then. You’re very good. As I said, you learn quickly, and now…’ She did not finish her sentence. She looked up. A girlish pleasure in her smile sent a tingle down his spine. He drew her in closer, till he heard a distinct rustle of her taffeta blouse. Her smile vanished. ‘I don’t know about you, but all I can feel is a brass button.’

He released her shamefacedly. The music stopped and they walked back to their table. He admired the sophistication with which she had admonished him, but realised it would be most unwise to apologise. She sat down and politely refused a drink. ‘Do sit. Did no one tell you it’s rude to point,’ she added, looking straight at his pelvis.