MONEY TREE (28 page)

Anila was hardly aware of the rumble of noise of a small crowd coming her way. It wasn’t until the noise was right outside her door that she became fully conscious of it. There were familiar voices and one she hadn’t heard before. She guessed they were coming to get her and take her before the council. They would drag her out and then beat her for all the fuss she caused. Maybe they would throw her on a fire. She deserved it. Then she heard Leena calling her name. Surprisingly the tone wasn’t stern or murderous. The next moment, her door was pushed open and light flooded the room.

‘Anila? Look whom
we have we brought to see you.’

How could Leena sound so happy? How could she even talk to her, after what she’d done to her? Leena was standing in the doorway, her head bent under the low frame. A strange young woman stooped and entered. Anila could not make her out against the white light from outside, but her head was bare and her hair was short as a boy’s. Then another woman was coming in behind her, a
white woman, wearing jeans, she could see that much! Anila felt her small hut become too crowded all of a sudden. Were these people here to take her away for losing all the money?! She jumped to her feet. She backed away, fearful in her own house.

‘Leena, what is going on? Who are these people? Have they come for me?’

‘They are from the bank, Anila. They are from our bank!’ She sounded excited and worried at the same time.

The Indian woman spoke. ‘Mrs
Jhabvala, I am most sorry to arrive unannounced. My name is Meera Banerjee. I am from the People’s Bank. I am your regional manager.’

Anila struggled to take the words in.
They had come for her! This woman was the regional manager? How could she be? She was only a girl, surely younger than herself. And looking like she was going to one of those clubs, with her short hair and her trousers and blouse. She must be here to punish her. To demand her collateral! And why did she bring this white woman? Anila felt her heart loosen and everything poured out of her at once. Her guilt, her fears, her dashed hopes.

‘Namaste, Miss Banerjee. I throw myself at your feet. I have lost all the money your bank gave me. I let it be stolen. I will work for nothing to pay it off but I do not think I wil
l ever manage to pay you back.’

Meera
reached out and touched Anila.

‘May I sit with you and talk about this? I am sure it is not so very bad. But first, do you mind if this
Scottish woman sits with us? She does not understand Hindi so I may have to explain to her in English from time to time.’

Anila was
almost beyond surprise or shock. But why had a woman come all the way from Scotland to see her? She nodded dumbly and motioned to the three women to sit. She moved quickly to retrieve the little stools that her mother and daughter sat on and gave them to the strangers. She and Leena knelt on mats on the bare ground and began automatically to prepare tea. While she was doing this the bank woman was explaining a little of what was going on to the white woman in English – what did Scottish sound like? Anila understood some of the words. But they were speaking so fast. Her father had tried to pass on some of his own education, but there were too many strange words. She became conscious of the buzz outside. Leena saw her ears prick up and explained.

‘
Anila, half the village has come to see the bank lady and the Scottish lady. And there is an American man – a great big one! – sitting outside. They came in a very powerful car.’

Leena
giggled and Anila could not suppress the smile that came to her lips. Meera too was smiling and explaining to the woman who also smiled. Anila kept staring at her. Anila whispered to Leena in Hindi.

‘The
Scottish woman is so beautiful. Such white skin.’

‘It is their weather
, surely. They have no sun, I hear.’

‘Her figure is perfect, so shapely
in those blue jeans. The men in the village will go mad for her!’ 

Ted Saddler sat outside, surrounded by a grinning mass of people. They jammed the narrow alleyway on either side, with a bunch directly in front of him. They were inspecting him hard, and discussing him freely. A stool had been brought so he could be exhibited properly. Meera had told him he wasn’t allowed into the hut under the rules of Purdah. He took off the hat he’d donned when they got out of the jeep. It was already sweat-stained. He used it to fan himself.

Ted
gazed back. He’d got used to close scrutiny by villagers during his Iraq tour. But he felt even more incongruous surrounded by these skinny people with scraps of cloth round them. A lot of bad teeth. Mainly old women and children. He assumed the young men and women were out in the fields. Though god knows what they grew in this heat. He felt the sweat coursing down his back and his sides. The underside of his trousers was damp. He would have given anything for a cool bath and a tall glass of beer with condensation running down the side. A scrawny boy approached, about ten years old and with big white teeth and a crooked arm.

‘Please sir? What are you doing here? Are you come to take Mrs Jhabvala away?’ He wore a knotted cloth round his thin hips and a grubby T shirt advertising Singa Beer. His feet were bare, his English laboured but understandable.

Ted grinned back. ‘No, we’re not taking Mrs Jhabvala away. We are here to help her.’ He went beyond his remit. ‘We are here to help the village.’

The boy translated and raised excitement through the crowd. He was encouraged to ask more questions.

‘Excuse me, what is your mother country, sir?’

‘America.’ It brought a sigh from the crowd as though they had expected it from his size and colour. ‘A place called New York.’

The sigh grew louder and became an Ahhh. ‘New York!’ interpreted the boy, ‘that is a wonderful city. We have seen it on television.’ He looked troubled. ‘9/11, yes?’ His hand did an aircraft dive. Then the smile came back. He pointed at the hut where Erin had gone.

‘Is she your woman?’

The boy was completely without caution now and brimming with curiosity. Ted toyed with the notion of Erin as his woman. He wished Miss Cool had been around. How would she have answered? Fat chance. Without skipping a beat. 

‘She is a friend. We are working together. We are working with the People’s Bank.’

‘Will you give money to everyone?’

A
woman had whispered the question into the boy’s ear then told her friends. They went quiet waiting for his answer.

‘It is not for me to talk about money. It is for Miss Banerjee, the woman who came with me. She is the bank’s representative here. You must ask her.’

The crowd digested this and there was a general movement closer. Many of the women began to settle down on their hunkers. Ted realised his interrogation could go on for a while. He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a damp fold of dollars.

‘Is there anywhere I can get a beer here, kid?’

‘
S
he thinks we have come here to take her away. All her money has been stolen. The other women believe it was the money lender. This is not surprising. Often these men lose their power when the bank comes in and offers fairer loans. The problem is being able to prove this.’

‘How big was the loan?’ asked
Erin.

‘4000 Rupees. Around
65 of your dollars. We gave them 3000. It was meant for use by three women. These two and a friend. I’m not sure how it got to 4000 rupees.’

Meera turned and asked some more questions. There was rapid fire exchange with the two local women.
She turned back to Erin.

‘They had to set up a women’s cooperative so that they could get proper attention from the traders here. Some of the other women’s money was stolen as well. Now she is completely lost and thinks her family – her mother and daughter – will starve and she will have to go and beg in the city. Or kill herself. It is a question of honour.’

‘No, no, tell her she won’t!’

Erin
was appalled. For the sake of sixty bucks – or eighty, whatever - this woman’s world would end. She tipped her doorman more than that at Christmas.

‘Tell her I’ll give her the
money. Tell her not to worry.’

Anila was looking at the white woman with astonishment. She could understand enough. Meera sighed inwardly. Westerners always thought money was the answer.

‘Do you think we would let one of our customers down so easily? It is a setback, but it is not unusual. Tell me, Erin, if this happened in England, what would the customer do?’

‘Well, for a start they’d
be complaining their heads off. In America their lawyers would be sniffing for a law suit. If the money was really stolen, they’d probably be covered by insurance. The bank would look again at the case and maybe work something out with the insurer.’

‘Exactly. When a person takes out a loan from us, there is a tiny amount of the interest for insurance. Tragedies happen all the time and it is as well to anticipate them. I have the authority to lend her mo
re money until we have cleared matters with the insurance company. Of course we have to be careful. We do not advertise this service much. As you can understand, it is open to abuse. So I will get a few more facts from these women and also speak to the cooperative. We prefer cooperatives. It shows great courage and initiative, and coops work better.’

Anila was calmer but still apprehensive. She’d thought she’d misheard the English woman’s offer. She certainly didn’t believe it. No-one did such a thing for a stranger. She sat with her back straight trying to answer all the questions put to her by this Meera Banerjee who still seemed
too young, but was so clever and strong. Anila wondered what it was like to have all her hair cut off and to wear men’s clothes. She must have been wonderfully educated. Anila wondered what that would have been like instead of getting married to Dilip.

She wondered if Meera believed her about the theft.
She got up and pulled back the little carving to let the daylight come though the ragged hole. A beaming villager’s face filled the gap.

‘See, there is the hole where I kept the money. You can see it has b
een attacked from the outside.’

‘It is alright, Anila. I believe you. Are the police coming? Has anyone called them?’

Leena answered, seeing her friend at a loss. ‘One of the women is going in to Udaipura today to see her son. She said she would report the theft.’

‘And I suppose the police will take a month to send a jeep to find out what has happened. I
f they come at all?’

The two local wom
en shook their heads in unison.

‘I will call them myself later this day and ask them to come.’

‘But we do not have telephones in the village. Will you drive back to the town?’

‘I have a telephone that works here.’

‘Ah. A satellite phone.’ Anila said it in English to make Erin’s ears prick up.

‘Exactly. Now Anila, I would like to talk to some of your friends in the cooperative please. Is that possible?’

Leena leapt to her feet. ‘I am one. I will get the others. They are already outside. How many do you want to speak to?’

Meera looked round the small hut. ‘I think two
more will do.’

Leena came back with two nervous lo
oking women, one of them Sandip. Meera put them at their ease even though there were many sidelong glances of curiosity at the white woman.

The big woman, supported by her friend and by Leena, gave her account of the brief life of the cooperative. She praised Anila for taking the lead and being so brave in front of the whole village. She told her of the hard negotiations with the agent and what a good deal Anila had struck on all their behalves. She explained how strongly she felt about the viability of the idea and what it could mean to her and her friends. Throughout it all Anila sat with
an embarrassed look as her praises were sang. To Anila it all sounded like madness now. Or something done by someone else. How could she have dared do so much! 

Finally Meera had answers to all her questions, and realising they had been seated for almost two hours, she suggested they take a break for lunch. Meera politely but firmly declined Anila’s offer of food. She knew Anila would hardly have enough to stave off her own hunger, far less feed two guests - three, she thought, remembering with a guilty pang,
the American outside.

They emerged blinking into the afternoon sunshine to find
Ted had assumed the role of story teller to what seemed half the village. The narrow lane was completely blocked for yards in either direction. Ted was surrounded by a ring of children who’d crept within three feet of him. By his foot lay two empty beer bottles. Beyond the children were their parents and old people who’d come to listen and wonder at the halting translations coming from the boy who now stood authoritatively by Ted’s side. Some of them could understand Ted’s English, but it did no harm to hear it twice. More time to savour it.

Ted
looked broiled but happy enough. He was in mid flow, left hand gripping beer bottle, right waving excitedly, explaining baseball to them. Erin stood stretching, listening to Ted’s account with amusement. She found many eyes on her, and a number of women pointing at her jean-clad legs and talking to each other. She and Meera rescued Ted, and followed by a gaggle of jabbering kids, they inched through the crowd and back down to the centre and their vehicle.