Tiger Hills (16 page)

Gundert had hoped to speak privately with the conservator of forests this evening about an apprenticeship for two of his students; however, he was nowhere to be seen. He was about to leave when Mrs. Hutton, the wife of one of the planters, poked her head around from the women's section. “Reverend,” she trilled. “Yoo-hoo, Reverend. Come, sit here with us and talk with us for a while.” Gundert had no choice but to go over. “Here,” Mrs. Hut-ton commanded, coyly patting the velveteen sofa where she sat, “sit here, right by my side.”

She proceeded to describe to him in tedious detail the Huttons' recent visit to Bombay, as Gundert held the glass of lemon soda to his temples again and suppressed a sigh. When she began to chatter about the Lumière cinématographe show they had seen, he perked up somewhat. He had seen the advertisements, of course, in
The Times
of London; it was the first time the cinematographe had visited Indian shores. His irritation mounted rapidly, however, as it became evident that it was the social nature of the event, rather than the merits of the films themselves, that had captivated the lady.

“Hmm? Yes, five films,” she said vaguely, in response to his question. “It was six, Mama,” her gangling daughter corrected, glancing shyly at Gundert. “
Arrival of a Train, The Sea Bath, Ladies,
and
Soldiers on Wheels
… ” Her voice trailed off uncertainly
as Gundert stared impassively at her, his blue gaze pinning her like a butterfly to a board.

Really,
he thought,
what a stupendously unattractive female.
He usually made a point of sitting and talking with Miss Hutton awhile, noting with a certain mild satisfaction the color mounting in her cheeks at the unaccustomed attention. Tonight, however, his headache was too painful for him to care for such niceties.

Gundert abruptly set down his glass and rose to his feet. “Ladies … ,” he murmured, and, making his excuses, left. Slowly he walked back to the mission. The gatekeeper rushed to open the gates, and Gundert nodded at him. The lights were turned out in the hostel, with only a couple of lamps, their wicks turned low, kept burning in the hallways and in Gundert's apartments. Moving softly through the darkened building, Gundert headed for his study. He shut the door behind him, seated himself at his desk, and turned up the wick of the lamp. He took the letter from his pocket, balancing it once more in his palm.
Devanna should be given the opportunity. He should go.

Rising to his feet, Gundert began to pace the length of his study. What should he do? England … But was it truly required? Wouldn't it be better for Dev if he remained closer to home? Back and forth he went, and then, removing the key from around his neck, he unlocked once more the drawer in the bureau. He took out the parcel of silk, the fabric more cream than white with the passing years, then adjusted the wick of the lantern so that the light shone more fully upon the cloth, and examined its desiccated contents. “Such purity of form, such clarity of delineation.” Gundert stroked the delicate pistil, running his thumb along the striated surface of a petal.
“Bambusa indica olafsen.”

He stared at the bamboo flower for a long time, the panic within him slowly dissipating. And then, mind made up, Gundert rewrapped the flower and placed it carefully back in its drawer. He reached for his inkwell, took out a sheet of foolscap, and began to write.

“Dear Father Dunleavy,” he began. “Thank you for your kind response, received this afternoon, December 9, 1896.” Wealthy
though they undoubtedly were, the boy's family was unfortunately conservative, he wrote. Although they were keen to foster Devanna's education, under no circumstances would they agree to send him out of the country. Indeed, all things considered, Bangalore appeared to be the optimal solution. If the Father would be so kind as to have his office send Gundert the relevant forms for the entrance examination, Gundert would get Devanna to fill them out.

He finished the letter, read and reread it until he was satisfied, and then, innocent of the wheels he would set in motion, of the catastrophic consequences his actions would bring, Gundert turned out the lamp and went finally to bed.

Chapter 11

D
evi! Where are you? Devi!” Devanna shouted, pounding up the path that led to the Nachimanda house.

Tayi came out to greet him, fumbling with her glasses. “Devanna? Is everything all right, monae?”

Devanna touched her feet, gasping for breath. “Yes, Tayi,” he grinned. “Devi, where is Devi?”

“She is there by the cattle shed, but wait, monae, what is the matter?”

But Devanna was already gone, sending the hens scattering and squawking in alarm from under his feet as he raced around the house. Devi was kneeling, her back to him as she fertilized the pumpkin pit. Devanna grinned. He crept forward stealthily, stepping soundlessly past the tomato beds and through the trailing vines of butter beans. Devi continued to work, completely unaware of his presence as she mixed cow dung and wood ash together, reaching deep into the pit to slap handfuls of the manure against its sides. He stole up behind her and then pounced with a wild whoop. “Uyyi!!” Devi screamed in fright, the vessel of ash tipping from her hands.

She glared at Devanna as he stood laughing. “What's the matter with you? Are you still five years old that you must play these silly tricks?”

“Huh. Just because you are growing old and your hearing is failing…”

“Devanna, I don't have the patience for your foolish games. Look!” she cried. “All the ash has fallen in. Do you think I have nothing better to do than go back and forth from the fireplace all day?”

“De-vi! It was only a joke. Don't be upset. Here,” Devanna offered, “give me the pot, I'll get you some more ash.”

“No. I … it's all right,” Devi said grudgingly. “Silly fellow … ” She stared moodily into the pit.

“Ayy, Devi … ,” he said gently, as he squatted beside her. “With this temper that you are in, I can almost see thunderstorms around your head.” She looked daggers at him and he pretended to cower. “Oh, now
that
was a flash of lightning!”

She struggled to keep a straight face, but despite herself, she giggled. “There!” he cried. “Finally, a hint of sun!”

“
Silly
fellow!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “So tell me, to what do we owe the honor of your visit on a school day?”

He took a deep breath. “You are never going to believe this. I was accepted into medical college!”

She looked uncomprehendingly at him. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? I'm going to become a doctor!”

“A doctor? Like Dr. Jameson?”

Devanna nodded. “Yes, yes,” he said grinning. “Just like Dr. Jameson. Dr. Kambeymada Devanna.”

“Uyyi!” Devi screamed again, this time in excitement. “A doctor!” She thumped him on the arm. “Whatever will you do next? Do you have brains of gold or what? A
doctor?!
Does Tayi know? Come
on,
” she said, jumping to her feet, “we have to tell everyone!”

Devanna filled them in on the details as Tayi hurried to light the lamp in the prayer room. The Reverend had had him take the entrance examinations a month ago. He'd said nothing of it to anybody, preferring to wait for the results to come in, which they finally had this morning. He glanced at Devi. He'd run straight here as soon as he'd heard, to give them all the good news.

“Monae,” Thimmaya interrupted, concerned, “have you not been to see Pallada Nayak yet? He should have been the first person to know.”

“It was just … I wanted to … ” Devanna's eyes strayed toward Devi. “I am going there now,” he finished lamely.

“College begins in June,” he told Devi later on the verandah, as he laced his shoes. “I will leave for Bangalore in a month or so.”

“Bangalore?” asked Devi, taken aback. “I didn't know you were going so far. I thought you would be closer, in Mysore, perhaps. Are there no medical schools there?”

Devanna grinned. “Medical
college,
” he corrected. “The Bangalore Medical College is the best medical college there is. Why? Will you miss me?”

Devi slapped her forehead. “Look at this boy,” she said archly, “about to become a doctor and still he says the most foolish things. Of course I'll miss you. You're one of my dearest friends, aren't you?”

A shadow passed over Devanna's face. “Yes. A friend.” He hesitated. “Listen, there's something I've been meaning to—”

“Look!” Devi exclaimed. “How lucky, a chembuka bird! There, by the jasmine bushes, can't you see the rust of its wings? Quick, make a wish before it flies away.” She leaned excitedly from the verandah, plait swinging forward as she pointed. She stared at the bird, her lips moving silently, then turned to Devanna with shining eyes.

“I made a wish for you,” she said simply. “That you become the best, the biggest doctor in all of Coorg.”

They were still talking about Devanna's news in the Nachimanda kitchen that night. “How proud his mother would have been,” Tayi said wistfully. “Foolish girl, to leave her husband and ruin her life like that.”

“Leave it be, Avvaiah,” said Thimmaya. “Why rake up unpleasant memories? Today is a happy day for our Devanna.” He shook his head in wonderment. “That quiet little boy. Who would have thought it? A doctor!”

Devi's brother, Chengappa, looked up briefly from his plate. “Yes, and now watch as his father comes running to reclaim his son.”

Thimmaya laughed. “Just his father? His grandfather, his cousins, the entire Kambeymada clan, see how they will clasp Devanna to their bosom after this bit of news … Enough, Avvaiah, enough,” he protested, as Tayi served him another helping of rice. “That family,” he continued, reaching for the ghee, “must have been conceived under the most auspicious of stars. First old man Kambeymada and his pots of gold. Then Machaiah and his tiger. And now they will have the first doctor in Coorg.” He sighed. “That Machaiah fellow. I had hoped … ” Glancing at Devi, Thimmaya changed the topic.

Devi pretended not to notice and continued to feed one of her little nephews. “Aaaah, say aaah, won't you open your mouth wide for your aunt?”

She had hoped, too, she thought bitterly. In the weeks that followed Tala Kaveri, her feet had not once seemed to touch the ground. She replayed every detail of their meeting time and again in her head. The views from the Bhagamandala peak, standing beside one another, not so close that it would seem improper to the few other pilgrims who had braved the peak, but close enough that she could feel the heat of his skin searing her side.

“Look,” he had said simply.

Devi had brushed the hair from her eyes and taken a slow, deep breath. The sun had finally come out from behind the clouds, burning away the last shreds of mist. The air was so fresh it almost hurt to breathe, the breeze steeped in cardamom and roses. All about them the undulating hills, a tapestry of every shade of blue, green, and in between, shot through with the brilliant silver of waterfalls. There was the horse-shaped Kudremukh, ancient landmark for mariners homebound. There the Chamundi hill of Mysore, named after the deity whose temple adorned its face like a gold-studded nose pin. And look, there, the indigo ribbon of the Arabian Sea, snaking into the distance. A stillness crept into Devi's heart.

“My roots,” Machu had stated quietly beside her. “I come here, every year. Just to look at all of Coorg laid out before my eyes.” Softly, he began to recite the words of the prayer. “O Kaveri amma, O blessed maiden, what need have you for garlands of flowers? What need of gold, of necklaces, jewel laden? Adorn yourself with this land, Mother. This land of golden fields, of pearl-like showers. Our precious land. These shining hills, its moonlit bowers.

“This,” he said, gesturing toward the sweep of the hills, “this is where I belong.”

Devi felt a calmness, a rightness she had never experienced before, a sense of belonging, natural as breath. Like the wooden planks of a ship hearkening to the harbor; like a bird, folding its wings, come home to roost at last.

She slowly nodded. “This is who I am, too,” she said softly, “who I will ever be.” She took a deep breath, the cool mountain air catching at the back of her throat. Turning to Machu, she looked steadily into his eyes. “Right here,” she said. “Right here is where I belong.”

He had looked down at her, an unreadable expression on his face. He started to say something, then checked himself. “I will not keep your father waiting any longer,” was all he finally said, as he turned back down the hill.

They returned in silence. Devi struggled to keep up with him, a welter of confusion within her. Had she said too much, been too forward? Should she say something? What? They seemed to descend in even less time than it had taken them to climb. Devanna had returned from the tank, she saw, and Thimmaya was with him. Devi looked guiltily at the worry etched on her father's face.