Swimming in the Monsoon Sea (14 page)

Once Amrith had been picked up from the hotel that evening and they were driving home, Uncle Lucky stared out of the window for a while, lost in thought. He turned to Amrith. “Remember the story I told you about my father
and his brother? And how, years after my father’s death, I went to Jaffna to look at that useless piece of land?”

Amrith nodded.

“Well,” Uncle Lucky said, clearing his throat. “The story does not end there. You see, my uncle, like my father, had ruined himself in court cases. He had left his widow with very little money. In small towns, the arrival of any stranger is a source of interest. Before I had even left the railway depot, the stationmaster found out who I was. He told me that my aunt had cataracts in both eyes and desperately needed an operation.

“By the time I arrived at her house, she knew I was coming. A neighbor was posted at the gate and he informed me that my aunt would like to invite me in for a cup of tea. I could guess why she was doing so; she was hoping I would help her out of her poverty.” He glanced at Amrith. “But I refused to go in.” He sighed. “Later, after I married your Aunty Bundle, she convinced me to make amends. But, by then, the widow had died. For a long time, it plagued me that I did not go in and offer her help. I always wondered how her life had ended, what terrible misery she must have sunk into.

“Then, a few years later, when I started my office and was hiring staff, a young woman from Jaffna came to be interviewed. She was from the same village as my father. I felt a curious excitement take hold of me when I found this out. I told her who my father was and she did not recognize his name, but when I mentioned my uncle’s name, she was very surprised. It turned out that she was related to my aunt, the
widow. Her young niece.” He looked at Amrith significantly. He was speaking of Miss Rani. “I not only hired her, but also paid for her to take courses to improve herself and help me run the office. And, you know, the funny thing is, from the moment Miss Rani came to work for me, my business really took off. By accepting my past and making amends, I had become a better businessman. I was more clearheaded and able to see around problems, to spot trickery.”

He took his glasses off and wiped them with his handkerchief. “Yes-yes, the past is really helpful, if we can come to accept it.” He put his glasses back on and regarded Amrith. “And sometimes the past does offer us a gift — a way to come to terms with what has happened to us.”

Amrith knew what Uncle Lucky meant by “a gift.” His cousin, Niresh.

Rain had started to pock the car windows. Amrith gazed out at the grayness, feeling depressed. The gulf that had come between him and Niresh had stayed for the rest of his visit.

That evening, Aunt Wilhelmina dropped in for dinner. Her face was shining with triumph. She had barely seated herself before she declared, “Yes, I was right all along. Mervin’s return is connected to money.” She narrowed her eyes in anger. “Do you know what that blackguard is planning to do? Sell Sanasuma.”

Amrith became very still. Sanasuma was the holiday home that had meant so much to his mother. In that time when Aunty Bundle had visited them at the estate, they actually made a trip to see it. He lowered his fork and pressed his hands together under the table.

“Do you remember it, Bundle?” Aunt Wilhelmina continued, unaware of his distress, “You and Asha spent many vacations there.”

Aunty Bundle did not reply. She was watching Amrith closely.

Aunt Wilhelmina became aware of his discomfort. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry, child.”

Amrith pushed back his chair.
“Um
 … could I be excused?”

“Yes, son.” Uncle Lucky looked at him, concerned.

As Amrith left the living room, he heard Aunt Wilhelmina say, “Bundle, something must be done. Sanasuma should be Amrith’s.”

“But what can we do, Aunt Wilhelmina? You know the old man left everything to Mervin in his will.”

“It is not right.” Aunt Wilhelmina’s voice had risen to a birdlike trill. “It was Asha who loved Sanasuma. It meant nothing to Mervin. Amrith should not be robbed of his inheritance. Sanasuma belongs to him.”

When Amrith reached his room, he lay on his bed, curled up on his side.
Sana-suma
. As he spoke the word in his mind, the memory of that visit swept over him.

Even though the holiday home was just an hour from their tea estate, his mother had never been able to take him there because she had no car. Aunty Bundle’s visit had allowed them to make the trip.

The road to Sanasuma had not been mended in a long time and it was full of potholes. Finally their car could go no further and Amrith, Aunty Bundle, and his mother had walked the last stretch. There had been a smell in the air of eucalyptus, pine, and the dried ancient mud of the path. Amrith had picked off a eucalyptus leaf and pressed its cool sting to his nose. The jungle was all around and the trees closed in, towering above. Through their leaves, the sunlight laid a shifting filigree on the path. Everything was still down there, but they could hear the wind roaring through the treetops. It felt to Amrith as if they were underwater, at the bottom of a river that thundered high above. Occasionally, there was a sound, as if a branch was about to break, and they looked up to see monkeys jumping from tree to tree, swinging down the branches.

Then, in the distance, he heard the chatter of water. The light began to increase ahead. The forest soon fell away to bushes and patches of grass, with brilliant magenta flowers on waving stalks. The underbrush was noisy with the trilling of cicadas, a bird that made a low, mournful
hoop-hoop-hoop
.

The road finally came to an end at a clearing.

The old family home was perched on a shelf of land that jutted out from a mountainside. Above them, around
them, were towering mountains, their peaks lost in the clouds. From the shelf, there was a precipitous descent to a densely wooded gorge miles below, flashes of silver from a river that ran through it. The rocky slope of the mountain came down to the back garden of the bungalow and, a little way up the slope, a stream tinkled as it skipped downwards. At one point, there was a drop and the stream tumbled over in a waterfall, then loitered in a rock pool before continuing its journey past the bungalow and over the shelf of land to join the river far below. The sun embroidered sequins into the falling water; the rock pool shimmered like green silk.

As his mother and Aunty Bundle approached the little bungalow, Amrith hurried to keep up with them. It was made completely of wood and was in a terrible state. The pillars of the front veranda had lost most of their paint and the floorboards were broken in places. His mother and Aunty Bundle had to struggle with the door before they got it open.

The moment they entered, they heard the scurry of some animal among the furniture. For fear it might be a snake, they did not go in any further. There were giant cobwebs everywhere and the floor was littered with leaves that had blown in through a shattered windowpane. The upholstery of the sofa and armchairs had great patches of mildew growing on it. As Aunty Bundle and his mother looked around, their faces were sad and angry. Finally, his mother sighed. “Let’s leave. We should not have come back.”

And yet, once they were walking away from the house, his mother changed her mind. She wanted them to go
swimming in the rock pool, as they had planned. They were wearing their bathing suits under their clothes and they stripped down. His mother was the first to go in. She shivered at the coldness, then cried out, “Come, Amrith, come, this is heaven!”

Aunty Bundle lowered Amrith into the water and his mother took him. He gasped from the cold and kicked out frantically, fastening his arms around her neck, his legs around her waist.

“Now relax, Amrith, relax.” She drifted away on her back, loosening Amrith’s legs, which trailed up in the water. “Are you okay?”

He nodded and clung to her. His mother’s arms were strong around him. They warmed his back, his hips. “Amrith,” she whispered in his ear, “when you think of this place, I want you to remember what fun we had swimming together.”

Before they left that day, his mother took Amrith to the back garden and showed him a eucalyptus tree. On its trunk was carved
Asha and Bundle, Best Friends
.

T
he next morning, Amrith found it impossible to concentrate on his typing exercises. He kept glancing towards the door every few minutes, losing his place, and having to start the line over again. Niresh had said he would try and visit today, but Amrith wondered if he would, given the way they had parted yesterday. He watched the time pass on the wall-clock. By eleven, he had given up hope. Miss Rani, whom he found himself looking at differently now, came by to mark his exercises. She circled numerous errors with her red pencil, but he did not care.

Amrith started a new exercise. He had just finished the first line, when the door opened and Niresh rushed in. He was panting from having run up the stairs and his hair was disheveled. He waved as he came across the office.

“What happens when you cross a centipede and a parrot?”

“I don’t know.” Amrith stood up, grinning.

“You get a walkie-talkie.” Niresh snorted. Everyone in the office turned and stared.

He thumped Amrith on the back. Everything had returned to normal between them. “Hey, my dad’s got some errands to do. Do you want to hang out for a bit, maybe have some lunch?”

Amrith went to ask Uncle Lucky. He gave his permission, then took out his wallet and handed Amrith a hundred-rupee note. “Go to Pagoda for lunch. But don’t let that boy pay. You have enjoyed their hospitality and we need to return it, as best as we can.” He looked at Amrith from under his hooded eyelids.

They could not invite Niresh to their home because of Aunty Bundle’s refusal to meet these Canadian relatives.

A giddy exhilaration took hold of Amrith and Niresh as they left the office. They ran down the stairs, charging through office workers, and burst out onto Chatham Street.

“Hey,” Niresh cried, “I want to buy a sarong.”

“Sure,” Amrith cried back, in high spirits. “I know where to go.”

Amrith took Niresh to Laksala, the government handicraft store. It was in an old colonial building with lofty ceilings. As they entered, Amrith pointed to a part of the store that had knickknacks. “Do you want to get gifts for your three friends?”

Niresh looked at him blankly.

“Your three close buddies,” Amrith prompted.

“Oh … oh, yeah.” Niresh glanced away. “No, it’s okay.”

Amrith led the way to the section that sold clothes. A woman in a Kandyan sari was standing behind a glass counter. When they asked to look at sarongs, she laid out a selection on the counter.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, looking at the sarongs, passing them to each other. Niresh finally picked a green one, with a pattern of dancing peacocks around the border. He wanted to try it on and the woman led them to a curtained dressing room at the back.

Standing outside the dressing room, Amrith could hear Niresh unzipping his shorts, the shuffle of his sandals as he pushed them off to slip into the sarong. He heard the rustle of the sarong being pulled up. There was a moment of stillness and then Niresh said, “Damn … Amrith?”

“Yes?”

Niresh pulled open the curtain. He had tied the sarong all gathered and knotted in a way that made the front a good deal shorter than the back. Amrith smiled.

“I look like a freak, don’t I?”

“No, it’s not too bad.”

Amrith indicated with his hands how Niresh should tie the sarong; how he needed to move his hips from side to side before quickly bringing the two ends of the sarong together, then tie a knot and make a roll around his waist.

Niresh tried again, but his effort was a failure. They looked at his handiwork in the mirror. Their eyes met and they laughed.

Niresh turned to him and lifted his arms away from his body. “Okay, I give up. Show me how it’s done.” He wanted him to step right up, face to face.

Amrith did not look at Niresh as he stood in front of him. His hands were shaking ever so slightly as he began to untie the mess his cousin had made. When he moved the sarong from side to side, before bringing the ends together, he got a glimpse of Niresh’s white underpants, the swirl of dark hairs above the waistband.