After the Storm (19 page)

Gurpreet handed him a plate and whispered, ‘Let her be, sir. She’s even more stubborn than that khotta Jatin. Don’t worry, she’ll eat slyly when no one’s looking.’

Raven suppressed his smile and looked around. He could not see Mili anywhere and wondered if she had eaten.

Everyone was now moving towards the sacred fire, where the wedding rites were going to take place. And still no sign of Mili.

‘Where are all the girls?’ he asked Gurpreet.

‘They’ve gone to help bhabhi change,’ replied Gurpreet. ‘The bride needs to wear a chundri sari given to her by her mama, for the pheras.’

‘Pheras?’

‘When the bride and groom go around the sacred fire.’

‘I see. But I thought her family was not partaking of the wedding?’ said Raven.

‘They aren’t. My father gave it to her,’ replied Gurpreet.

The girls soon arrived, tittering. Mili helped Vidushi sit beside Jatin, before the fire. The priest started reciting the marriage vows. Raven looked at Mili and wondered what she would look like as a bride. What had that girl done to him today? What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t get her out of his mind. It was as though she had cast a spell on him.

A few more steps up the steep incline and Raven had reached the summit of Hem Parvat. He turned around to address his students. ‘I’ve brought you all here today because we’re studying Wordsworth and, as you know, Wordsworth and nature are synonymous. This place is as beautiful if not better than the Lake District where he wrote much of his poetry. I want you to soak in the beauty of this place and then write an essay or a poem on it. We will meet at this very spot in an hour.’

‘Yes, sir,’ murmured the students and began to disperse in different directions.

‘Malvika,’ Raven called out.

Mili turned around and walked up to him. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Have you had the chance to meet Vidushi after the wedding?’ he asked, walking towards the adjoining chain of mountains. He slowed down as he realised Mili was finding it hard to keep up with him.

‘No, sir, but I’m sure she’s happy.’

‘I hope so,’ Raven replied. ‘She’s my responsibility, Malvika. I took her out of the ashram and antagonised her parents by doing so. And then I encouraged her to remarry and upset Jatin’s parents in the pro—’ He stopped speaking as he gazed at the spectacular sight before him. For there stood the snow-capped Himalayas – tall, majestic and aloof, like a monk with his longflowing white beard, who after years of meditation had attained nirvana and now stood calm, cool, elevated.

Raven and Mili stood transfixed, for a long time. Neither of them spoke. It was one of those rare magical moments when time seems to stand still. And in that moment everyone else ceased to exist.

Feeling Mili’s eyes on him, he looked at her. As he gazed into her soulful eyes, he felt as though he was drowning in them. He could not look away. He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently.

‘Sir.’

The sound seemed to come from another land.

‘Sir.’

The spell was broken. Raven tore his gaze from Mili and turned around to see who it was. Jatin was walking towards them. Raven hastily let go of Mili’s hand and walked a couple of paces to put some distance between them.

‘Isn’t it breathtaking?’ Jatin asked, pointing to the snow-capped mountains.

‘Yes,’ Mili whispered. ‘Now I understand why they call the Himalayas the abode of the gods … They look so beautiful … like a string of pearls – pure, untouched …’

‘A pearl necklace around Mother India’s neck,’ added Jatin.

Raven laughed. ‘I think we’d better start trekking back,’ he said and started walking towards Hem Parvat where all the other students were waiting for him.

Gurpreet, Jatin and Mili walked together down the hill, making their way home from Hem Parvat. This part of the hillside was lush with pine trees. Even the air smelt of pine. The ground was covered with pine needles and pine cones.

Gurpreet saw Jatin pick up a closed cone and give it to Mili.

‘Hold it over a fire,’ he said. ‘The cone will open up to reveal tiny pine nuts. You can remove the outer case and eat them.’

Mili looked at the cone with amazement. ‘Really?’ she said as she stroked the woody cone. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘We should be ashamed of ourselves,’ said Gurpreet, grimacing and hitting the bushes by the side of the road with the thin long cane that he was carrying. He looked at Mili and Jatin who were now looking at him in surprise.

Jatin scratched his head. ‘Ashamed of ourselves? For picking up a pine cone?’

‘Here the entire country is rising up in arms against the Raj,’ said Gurpreet. ‘And we are admiring nature, writing poetry. If father hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t be wasting my time studying English.’

‘No, Preeto,’ said Jatin. ‘To understand our enemy better, it is important to know their language. Only then can we defeat them at their own game.’

‘Bravo, Jatin,’ said Gurpreet, slapping Jatin across his shoulders. He ignored Jatin’s scowl and carried on speaking. ‘Always has an answer for everything.’

‘Like Lord Kishan,’ said Mili, giggling.

‘Oye, Lord Kishan’s devotee … I forgot to ask you because of Jatin’s wedding - where were you that day? When we were supposed to meet Guruji?’ asked Gurpreet. ‘I waited outside your school gate for an hour. And got a scolding from Guruji for being so late.’

‘I forgot,’ Mili lied.

‘You can come with us right now if you wish,’ said Jatin.

‘Actually, I think I’ll stay away from all this. Politics is not really for me.’

‘This is not politics,’ said Gurpreet. ‘This is fighting for our freedom, for our rights.’

‘I haven’t got Mausi’s permission. She gets worried if I stay out after dark,’ said Mili.

Gurpreet shrugged his shoulders. ‘Ah well, in that case, we’ll just see you to your door.’

They trudged along in silence for a while. They could hear a brook nearby. Gurpreet thumped Jatin’s back.

Jatin glared at him angrily. ‘You’re bent upon breaking my back today or what?’

‘So tell me, brother, how is married life treating you?’ Gurpreet asked, completely ignoring his friend’s protest.

‘Best thing that happened to me in a long time, Preeto,’ Jatin replied with a grin.

‘How about a party to celebrate?’ asked Gurpreet.

‘Yes, do let’s have a party. It’s been ages,’ said Mili.

‘Hmm. This Sunday? Lakeview Club in Nainital?’ said Jatin. ‘I’ll work out all the details. I’ll invite Raven Sir as well.’

‘Are you mad?’ exclaimed Gurpreet.

‘Why? What’s wrong? He’s not a stick–in-the-mud like the other teachers,’ said Mili.

‘Yes, and he’s only five years older than me,’ said Jatin. He stepped on a loose stone and his right foot skidded. He steadied himself as the stone went hurtling down the hill, before continuing, ‘Besides, Vidushi and I wouldn’t be together today if it hadn’t been for him. We can’t have a party to celebrate our wedding and not have him. We owe him this one, Preeto.’

‘All right, do what you will. But remember, it’s a party and I’m going to smoke and drink, whether he likes it or not.’

Gurpreet and Jatin waved goodbye to Mili and made their way to Guruji’s house. A revolutionary whom they called Comrade Jaidev opened the door for them.

‘Is Guruji home?’ Gurpreet asked.

‘Yes,’ Jaidev replied. ‘Come with me. I will take you to him.’ He led them to an anteroom beside the prayer
hall which was used as a storeroom for stacking things for the puja. Silver plates for the arti, kumkum powder, agarbatti, dhoop, camphor, some broken statues of gods, lots of diyas and candles.

Comrade Jaidev shifted a small cupboard with their help to reveal a latch.

Gurpreet and Jatin looked at each other as he lifted the latch and started walking down some narrow wooden stairs. He held a lantern in his hands, to show the way. The two friends followed him to the basement. They had never been to this part of the house before. It looked like a mini laboratory. Something was bubbling over the burner. There were lots of beakers, tubes and decanters. Gurpreet was amazed by what he saw before him. So this was where they made their bombs.

‘Good day to you, Guruji,’ Gurpreet said as he touched Guruji’s feet.

‘May God always be with you,’ said Guruji, holding his shoulders lightly.

Gurpreet looked around to see why Jatin had not touched Guruji’s feet. He found him gaping at the bombs curiously.

Guruji picked up one and held it out to Jatin. ‘Straight out of the chulha,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Want to try it?’ He laughed as Jatin shrank back. ‘Darta hai saala,’ he added as he led them back up the stairs to the living room and ordered the servant to bring some tea.

‘What happened to that girl you were going to bring along?’ asked Guruji.

‘She’s not sure whether she wants to join us or not,’ replied Gurpreet.

‘That’s all right,’ said Guruji. His voice rose as he spoke again. ‘We only want those Indians who are a hundred per cent committed to the cause. We need people who are ready to do or die for their country.’

‘Yes, you’re right, Guruji.’

Not hearing any response from Guruji, Gurpreet followed his gaze. He was looking out of the open window and pointing to a flag fluttering in the distance. ‘See that flag?’

‘You mean the Union Jack?’ asked Gurpreet.

‘The day is not far when the Indian flag will be flying in its stead,’ whispered Guruji.

‘It seems that day will never come,’ Gurpreet said with a cynical smile.

‘It will. And soon …’ said Guruji. ‘The Congress is planning something. A nationwide protest against the British to quit India.’

Raven knocked on Principal Perkins’ door. Hearing a ‘Come in, please’ he walked in.

‘I have some bad news, I’m afraid,’ said Miss Perkins. ‘The warden’s problem seems to have escalated. It’s something to do with her brother–in–law getting wounded in the war and becoming impaired. She will be taking longer to come back than we had previously thought.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ replied Raven.

‘Miss Agatha has kindly offered to take the warden’s place until her return. I hope you approve?’

‘Yes, of cou—’

Cries of ‘Bharat Mata ki Jai; do or die’ made him stop
speaking and look out of the window. There were some revolutionaries marching down the street below.

‘Those demonstrators look like your students from MP College.’

‘So they are,’ said Raven as he narrowed his eyes and looked out of the window again.

‘In that case you ought to stop the protest.’

‘It is a peaceful march, Miss Perkins,’ Raven answered slowly, continuing to look out of the window. ‘I can hardly object to that.’

‘If I were you, I’d keep an eye on them.’

‘Really, Miss Perkins, I think they’re harmless enough.’

‘It seems your sympathies lie with the Indians, rather than the English. Don’t fool yourself, Raven. You’re a white man, a gora, a foreigner to them. You may think of yourself as an Indian, but they never will. And they will have no qualms throwing you out of their country, given the chance.’

Raven looked at her and saw the mistrust in her eyes. He sighed and got up. ‘I should take my leave now. I’ll go and meet Miss Agatha and make sure she has been briefed about the rules and regulations governing the hostel.’

Miss Perkins made no move to get up. ‘I wanted to ask you about Princess Malvika Singh. Has she settled down? Her friend’s death was a bit of a shock for all of us.’

‘Bit of a shock?’ exclaimed Raven. ‘It was a huge shock. But yes …’ He turned his back to Miss Perkins and looked intently at the painting of the Last Supper that hung on the wall. He touched its cold gilt frame. ‘She’s
much stronger than I’d thought,’ he said slowly. He swung back to face Miss Perkins. ‘She was extremely upset that no action had been taken against the collector, bu—’

‘Well, we don’t really know for certain what happened that night,’ said Miss Perkins. ‘I mean, a frivolous Anglo-Indian girl’s words as opposed to a respectable collector’s …’

Raven stared at her, not quite believing what he had just heard. ‘I’m appalled,’ he said in a low voice.

‘It’s the truth, you know,’ replied Miss Perkins with a shrug. ‘If matters had gone to court, everyone including the judge would have said the same thing.’

‘Not everyone,’ said Raven. ‘I’m sure the Indians would have felt differently.’

‘Who would have listened to them? Certainly not the judge. But I’m glad that girl – Malvika – has settled down. So tell me, Raven, is it really necessary to spend so much time with her?’

Raven’s mouth fell open and he glared at her. ‘I beg your pardon, miss?’

‘People talk, Raven, and I’ve been hearing things. If you’re unable to maintain a healthy distance between yourself and your students and these rumours continue to grow, I may have to take the matter to the vice chancellor.’

Pursing his lips, Raven nodded slightly. ‘Good day to you, miss,’ he mumbled and left the room, banging the door shut.

Raven angrily changed gears and reversed out of the driveway at full speed. Who was Miss Perkins to tell
him what he ought to do with his students and what not to? He slowed down as he perceived a palanquin approaching. Was he in love with Malvika? He thought hard. No, he didn’t think so. Then why was he always looking out for her? He worried about her; felt sorry for her for all that she had gone through. Yes, that was it. He felt sorry for her, that’s all.

He parked his car and made his way towards Lakeview Club, a lovely resort constructed fully with logs and wood, on the edge of the Naini Lake. It had rained all day, so much so that the entire place now looked intoxicated and full of revel. He took a deep breath, inhaling the heady fragrance of moist earth, took off his hat and walked into the club. Normally he did not attend these social gatherings, more so if they were hosted by students. He felt as inconspicuous at such parties as a peacock would in the Himalayas. But one imploring look from Vidushi and he could not say no.

A cheer went up as he entered the room where the party was in full swing. He accepted a glass of whisky from the waiter and looked around. After exchanging a few niceties with his students and congratulating Jatin and Vidushi, he made his way to the door that led to the deck.

Mili sat there alone, at the edge of the deck, her feet dangling in the waters of the lake. Raven went and sat down beside her, his glass in hand.

‘Good evening, sir,’ she said with a smile.

Raven nodded, raised his glass, then took a sip. ‘You seem to be far away,’ he said.

Mili looked down. ‘I was just reminiscing – the last
time I went to a party, Vicky was with me.’

‘Yes, I remember, you almost got expelled from the hostel,’ he said, smiling sardonically.

Mili grinned. ‘We’ve been friends ever since we were babies, even before we could talk. Ma used to tell me, whenever we were together as toddlers, we’d sit side by side, holding hands. Always holding hands. She thought it was awfully sweet.’

Raven smiled softly and the two of them fell silent. He looked around. It was twilight. The lake was surrounded with purplish-blue mountains on all sides. A thin veil of mist was descending down the mountains and dipping into the tranquil waters, like the weeping willows. Why had he never come to Nainital before, he wondered? It reminded him of Avalon. There was even a boat on the lake that looked like the barge on which Arthur had lain, after he was mortally wounded.

From the corner of his eye he saw some students about to walk out onto the deck. Then they saw him and walked back inside. He smiled disdainfully. Cowards, all of them. He wondered why they were all so scared of approaching him.

He stole a sideways look at Mili. She was chewing her nails. ‘Stop biting your nails,’ he said, snatching her hands and looking at them in horror. ‘You’re a girl. Not just that. You’re a princess. And your nails are worse than the washerwoman’s.’

Mili pulled her hands out of his grasp and hid them behind her back. ‘You’re scolding me at a party? You can’t scold me about my studies here, so you’re picking on my nails,’ she grumbled.

Raven put back his head and laughed. He took a long sip and emptied the contents of his glass. He gestured to the waiter to come over and refill it. The waiter walked over with a half-f bottle of whisky and an empty tumbler. Ignoring the glass, Raven picked up the bottle, then shooed the waiter off with a wave of his hand.

He took another sip, then turned to Mili. ‘That principal of yours, she’s a cow. She says to me, “You’re not an Indian.” You tell me, Malvika. What makes you an Indian?’

‘Sir, I don’t understand.’

‘Why do you say that you’re an Indian and not a German or Russian or Japanese?’

‘I was born and brought up in India, that’s why, sir,’ replied Mili.

‘Exactly,’ said Raven, taking another long sip of the whisky. ‘So was I. I have lived here all my life. I can speak Hindustani. I enjoy Indian food. So does that not make me an Indian?’

Looking slightly baffled, Mili answered, ‘I suppose.’

It was getting dark now. Raven looked at the lake again, its waters gently lapping the boats, like a mother rocking her baby to sleep. The boats swayed slightly every now and then, as though stirring in their sleep.

He moved closer to Mili.
Miss Perkins should see me now
, he thought and chuckled. He noticed Mili looking at him curiously and glugged down some more whisky. ‘Sod Miss Perkins,’ he muttered.

He began tapping his feet in time with the music playing inside. Someone had put on ‘Let’s Do It’. As the words
‘Let’s do it
…
let’s fall in love
…’ rang out,
Raven looked at Mili and their eyes met. He gave her a sheepish grin. Mili smiled back shyly, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She had a very captivating smile, Raven thought as he stared at her lips, mesmerised. It started with a small twitch of the corners of her lips, spread timidly to the middle, quivered softly, gathered courage, then reached her eyes, giving their depths a greater intensity. He took a swig at his bottle and curbed an insane desire to touch her.