After the Storm (15 page)

Gurpreet had given him a lopsided grin and continued buffing his nails.

Whistling happily, now that the exams were over, Gurpreet had made his way to Uncleji’s Tuck Shop. He was about to go in when a couple of his classmates called out to him.

‘We have distributed all the leaflets,’ said one of them.

‘That’s good,’ replied Gurpreet, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Now don’t forget to come for the party meeting at Guruji’s house tomorrow.’

‘We won’t,’ replied the other. ‘We’ll be there.’

Just as the two lads left, someone caught hold of Gurpreet from behind, by his collar. Gurpreet turned around in surprise. It was Jatin.

‘Why the hell did you have to ask for water every ten minutes?’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘Why do you think? I was thirsty,’ said Gurpreet. ‘Ahh,’ he cried out in pain as Jatin punched his nose.

‘Thirsty indeed! Because of you I couldn’t finish my paper,’ thundered Jatin. ‘Sir, water … sir, toilet,’ he mimicked.

Swiping at the blood running out of his nose with the back of his hand, Gurpreet was about to hit Jatin back when Uncleji arrived on the scene.

‘Look, what had to happen, has happened,’ Uncleji said, after listening to the sissy Jatin tattling about him.
‘It can’t be changed. So what’s the point of fighting?’

‘Uncleji, you don’t know how many times he’s failed,’ said Jatin. ‘And now because of him, I’m going to fail. He should be kicked out of college. Good for nothing.’

‘Don’t speak in that manner about your friend,’ Uncleji admonished as he gave his handkerchief to Gurpreet.

‘Friend indeed,’ Gurpreet growled, grabbing the hanky from Uncleji and dabbing his nose with it.

They did become friends. Eventually. Not just friends but the thickest of friends. And he was glad he had him. Especially now, after Vicky’s death. Even though they never spoke about it, he knew Jatin understood and was always there for him. And for that he was glad.

Uday had come to the station. He hugged Mili and held her tight. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he said, hugging her yet again. He had chattered all the way home and Mili had let him. It used to be the opposite. But this time she was relieved she didn’t have to do all the talking. She snuggled up to Ma as soon as she reached the palace. It was comforting to feel the soft folds of her sari, to smell her familiar aroma of sandalwood, after such a long time. Bauji was equally pleased to see her, although, as always, he did his utmost to hide his emotions.

Mili was happy to be back home, to the warmth and security of familiar surroundings. Ma led her to her room excitedly. She had something new to show her. ‘Look,’ she said, pointing to the ceiling as soon as they entered her room. ‘We’ve had one of these installed for you. They are much more efficient than the manual ones.’

Mili stared at the ceiling fan vacantly. She turned
pallid as the vision of Vicky’s body swinging from her red dupatta flashed through her mind.

‘What’s the matter, Mili?’ Ma was concerned.

‘I think I’m a little tired,’ she replied. She looked at the ceiling fan again and shook her head. And she had thought coming here would help her get away from it all.

‘Yes, it was a long journey,’ said Ma. ‘You’d better go to bed. Bhoomi …’

Bhoomi, who had been hovering near the door, grinning at Mili from ear to ear, stepped forward and said, ‘Yes, Your Highness?’

‘Help her into bed,’ she said, before turning to Mili. ‘Goodnight, my child. Sleep well. We’ll speak in the morning.’

Mili looked at Bhoomi who now stood by the bed with her nightdress, ready to help her undress. She took the nightdress from her and said, ‘Thank you, I can manage.’ She smiled slightly at the look of shock on Bhoomi’s face. She had never thanked a servant before.

‘You can go now. I can manage,’ Mili repeated.

‘As you wish, Princess; goodnight, Princess,’ Bhoomi mumbled, and backed out of the room.

The next morning Mili was ravenous as she sat at the dining table. She thought of the babble that greeted her every morning in the refectory at STH. Even before entering the building, you could hear the din emanating from that huge hall. It was so wonderful to be able to dine in peace, with a golden sun throwing a quiet light on the cutlery and making it glitter. She sniffed appreciatively as the smell of pureed tomatoes and chopped onions
roasting with cumin seeds wafted into the room and her stomach growled in anticipation. She had still not got used to the gunk dished out in the hostel.

Ma came in, followed by the servants bringing in the breakfast. ‘Your favourite – aloo bhaji and poori,’ she said as the waiter served her.

Mili took a sip of the sweet mango shake and poked a finger through her poori as was her habit. She took a spoonful of the rich badam ka halwa, made with almonds, ghee and sugar. She gobbled a couple of pooris and wanted more, but suddenly felt shy. It was silly but she felt embarrassed asking for more. She hadn’t realised, but as the days away from the palace had turned into weeks and then into months, she had grown more and more distant from home, so much so that a strange formality had now crept in …

Days passed slowly in Mohanagar without Vicky. Mili could not wait for the holidays to be over. It was good to be home, to be with her family, to sleep on her own Dunlopillo mattress and yet … she longed to get back to Kishangarh. Maybe it was the freedom that she had grown accustomed to. Or the privacy of not having servants following her every move. She was glad to have Bhoomi at her beck and call again but her overenthusiasm to do everything for her irritated her now.

But what rankled the most was how everyone was cautious not to mention Vicky’s name. Like the Harijan slums on the edge of the city that everyone avoided. Hey Kishan, please let someone say something about Vicky so that she could pour out her heart to that person. But sadly, that did not happen.

Ma wanted her to meet some of her old school friends, but she declined. All her friends had always been conscious of the fact that she was a princess. Hence, however friendly they were, however rowdy the game was, there was always that slight deference that they treated her with. It was only Vicky who never cared for such proprieties and had treated her as an equal. And Mili loved her for that.

‘You don’t need to go back, you know,’ Bauji said for the nth time, as the holidays drew to a close. ‘You can continue your studies at Mohanagar. You can go back to your old school or we can get you a tutor at home.’

But Kishangarh beckoned her. She had to go back. Even the basket of her favourite sitaphal, which had arrived from their orchards that morning, could not tempt her enough to stay back.

‘You have been very quiet ever since you came home,’ Ma said, as she lovingly tucked a stray hair behind her ear. ‘Is the hostel all right?’

‘Yes, Ma,’ Mili replied. She found herself speaking in monosyllables more and more often these days.

‘A distant cousin of mine lives in Kishangarh,’ said Ma. ‘She’s a widow and lives by herself. You can stay with her if you wish.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Mili replied, turning her attention to Bhoomi who was packing her trunk. ‘No, take out those two saris. I won’t need so many of them in Kishangarh.’

‘As you wish, Princess. I will miss you, Princess.’

Mili did not say anything. She realised she was not as
emotional now as she used to be. Something within her seemed to have hardened and she could not wait to get away from everyone.

February. 1942. Mili stood on the balcony of her hostel room. The holidays were over. School had reopened early. She couldn’t believe she had been at STH for almost an entire year. Even Bauji had not expected her to last in Kishangarh for more than three months. She watched the other students coming to the hostel with their bags and trunks. They all seemed happy to be back. Mili envied them their happiness. She stood on the balcony for a long time, alone, filled with memories and nostalgia. She remembered the first time she had come to STH with Vicky. And how Angel had called their room ‘freaky’ because of the ceiling fan. Little did she know then that the ‘freaky’ would soon assume gruesome proportions.

The weather didn’t help lift her spirits. The sky was overcast. Scudding, low, dark clouds spread a melancholy hue over the landscape. They were a dirty grey, the clouds. And the more she looked at them, the more they felt like a leaden blanket, smothering her. The birds were winging their way back home, back to their nests, back to their soulmates and their little ones, cawing and screeching. Mili gazed up at the menacing clouds. It was going to pour.

She shivered involuntarily and hugged herself. She felt alone and desolate and oh so cold. Just a year back she and Vicky had arrived at the same hostel, full of exciting dreams and a sense of adventure. So much had changed
since then. Life had certainly not turned out the way she had imagined. She had such rosy dreams then and now she had nothing to look forward to.

Just then a single ray of the sinking sun broke through a cloud, illuminating it. The spectacle was magnificent. Mili looked at it mesmerised and felt her spirits rise. Maybe Lord Kishan was trying to tell her that all was not lost. As she watched the cloud, it dawned on her that the only way to get over her grief was to leave the hostel. She would go and stay with Mausi, just as Ma had suggested.

Mili made her way to Mausi’s house after class. It was snowing. Thick and fast. Soon everything looked white and blank – like her heart. Blank, empty and drained of emotion. And the deathly stillness. As though she was the only person inhabiting Kishangarh.

The sound of a horn made her jump. It was Raven.

‘Where are you off to?’ he asked.

‘To my Mausi’s. That’s where I live now.’

‘Come, I’ll drop you,’ he said, opening the passenger door.

Mili hesitated.

‘I know it’s not a grand car like your Rolls-Royce,’ he said, ‘just a humble Morris, but …’

Mili smiled as she slid into the car. ‘She’s beautiful. I love the expression on her face … and the lazy smile.’

Raven chuckled. ‘You make her sound like a very attractive woman.’

Mili grinned. She had felt numb with the cold out there and was glad of the warmth the car now afforded.
She looked sideways at Raven. He looked handsome in his long coat. He was driving very carefully and slowly. She suddenly realised they were going off the beaten track. Her lips went dry and she exclaimed, ‘This is not the way to M—’

‘The other way is far too dangerous in this weather,’ Raven replied, concentrating on the road ahead.

Just then the car spluttered and came to a halt. Raven cursed under his breath and turned the key. The car spluttered again, lurched forward, then stopped. Raven got out of the car and lifted the bonnet.

Mili looked around uncomfortably. The place was deserted and it was beginning to get dark. No one could be seen for miles around. And there wasn’t even a house nearby, not even a street lamp. Her heart began to race. So Raven Sir had purposely chosen this deserted route? It was all a ploy. No. It couldn’t be. Not Raven Sir. He would never stoop so low. But then, weren’t all men the same? she thought bitterly. Especially Englishmen. They were animals. All of them, with just one thing on their mind. Oh, Lord Kishan, what was she to do? What could she do?
Stay calm, Mili, stay calm
. Relax.
Breathe in. Okay, that’s better.

She put her hand on the door handle. Raven was still behind the bonnet, pretending to sort out the car. She pressed the handle. Yes, she’d run for it. Sprint across the road as fast as she could.
Run, Mili, run. Now’s your chance, when he’s not in the car. Just run.

No, she couldn’t get out of the car and run. Not in this snow. He would soon catch up with her.

Raven closed the bonnet and slipped back into his
seat. He turned to Mili. ‘It’s not a big problem. We’ve run out of petrol. We just have to wait till somebody comes along and helps us.’

Mili squirmed. Soon it would be pitch dark. And then she’d be alone in the dark with this Angrez.
Quick, think fast, Mili, think. What are you going to do?
Oh good, somebody was coming that way. She darted a look at Raven. He was looking the other way. This was her chance. She would run across to that man coming towards them. But what if he did not help her?

Drat. The man was drunk. He could not possibly be of any help. Some more minutes passed. Then finally, hope, in the shape of a car. Mili almost leapt out of Raven’s car with relief. It was Jatin, with his uncle. She had never been so glad to see him before.

‘Any problem, sir?’ Jatin asked, leaning out of his window.

‘We’ve run out of petrol,’ Raven replied.

Jatin and his uncle got out of their car. Between them, they were able to find a tube and an empty jar and transfer petrol from one car to the other.

Soon they were on their way. Much to Mili’s annoyance, Raven chatted amiably all the way to Mausi’s house.

‘It’s so late,’ he said. ‘Your aunt must be getting worried. Imagine, forgetting to fill up my tank! I’m becoming more and more of an absent-minded professor. One day I might even forget to eat. Come to think of it, I did forget to have lunch this afternoon …’

Mili did not say anything but kept looking straight ahead. The car swerved around the corner and stopped
in front of the little gate leading to Mausi’s cottage.

‘You’ve been awfully quiet today,’ Raven observed as he turned his gaze on her.

Mili was covered in a cold sweat and shivered involuntarily.

Raven frowned. Then exclaimed, ‘No, Malvika, no! You didn’t think I contrived that, did you? Oh, what do you think I am? I’m your teacher and your dean, for Christ’s sake. You’re my responsibility. How could—’ He broke off.

‘George was Vicky’s local guardian. She was also his responsibility,’ Mili replied quietly. She continued to sit in the car, motionless, as Raven covered his eyes with a hand, then smacked the steering wheel. He again turned to look at her.

Touching her shoulder gently, he whispered, ‘Look at me, Mili. Not all Englishmen are beasts, not all men …’

Nodding slightly, Mili bolted out of the car. She ran up the driveway and rang the doorbell.