The Monsoon Rain (6 page)

“Duty calls,” Mr. Chowdhury said.

Glancing at Derek, Miranda could detect a sudden intake of breath.

“Rohit is on his own, you know,” his mum said very matter of fact to no one in particular. “You know, Derek, how he frets when one of us is not around.”

Derek stiffened. His smile had vanished. He looked away very somber. He let his mother’s remark pass ignored. He definitely looked uncomfortable.

Excusing himself, he hastily steered Miranda away from his parents. She looked at him with an inquiring look that Derek pretended not to see. Who was this Rohit? Why was Derek so edgy? He had been very amiable introducing her to his parents, so why this sudden transformation? There were so many unanswered questions, which were left unanswered and soon forgotten.

At that precise moment a boy of about seven years old was being rather difficult in a large and scrambling house set in the midst of nowhere in Essex. The house was very imposing to look at from a distance in its rural setting in the midst of acres of land and a lovely flower patch in front. A wrought iron gate, which was often left open, was supposed to keep strangers out.

The boy, Rohit, went up to his nanny. “Who is that man who comes here to see Mummy and Daddy? He frightens me! I hope he does not come here anymore.”

“I hate him!” he added vehemently.

Derek and Miranda made their excuses and made their way toward another group of people Derek knew. Miranda had the definite feeling that Derek’s mother had looked upset when Derek deliberately avoided saying anything about this Rohit. Anyway, it was none of her business and she left it at that.

The whole churchyard seemed to be dotted with rich and influential people. There were ladies in very colorful saris and expensive
jewelry. It was a magnificent sight. People were mingling, Western and Eastern alike.

Derek seemed to know most of them.

Where was her mother? Miranda wondered. She could not see her.

“Derek, please,” she said. “I seemed to have lost my mother.”

“Let’s go and find her,” he said.

It was not difficult to find Molly. She was busy talking to Charu’s mother.

“Hello, Mrs. Stewart,” Derek said, giving her a peck on the cheek.

Miranda was appalled. How dare he? And yet her mother beamed at him.

“Oh, Derek,” she said. “How lovely to see you. You know Mrs. Roy, Charu’s mum?”

Derek said “yes” and ‘namaste,’ bringing his palms together and bowing his head a little. He was very well versed in Hindi language and Indian customs. He spoke a few of the Indian languages and had many Indian friends. His English mother had insisted that he learnt the Indian customs and the language. Derek inquired politely about the Indian wedding and said that he would be attending. How could he not since both the groom and the bride were his special friends? He was looking forward to it.

After more polite excuses, they made their way toward the waiting Daimler.

She got into the car willingly, but she gave the impression to Derek that she was obliging him and was going with him very reluctantly.

The reception was held in a hotel within walking distance of the church. She could have walked but could not disengage herself from Derek’s steely grip leading her toward his car. And of course Miranda was ecstatically happy just being with him, despite her outward demeanor. The hotel itself was set on acres and acres of land. A gravel path led from the gate to the front porch where the cars picked up and dropped off their passengers. The cars then were driven away to be parked in the car park at the back. It was all very grand. The property looked exquisite
with its well-tended, manicured lawns and fountains. It also had a little stream running across the grounds that was lit up at night. The building itself had been renovated as a hotel but the original Gothic style and structure remained, giving it a very regal and authentic look.

The lunch went off well, and Derek’s best man’s speech was filled with wit and funny anecdotes of his and Charles’s school days and the pranks they’d gotten up to and how they were punished by their house masters. The whole event was very happy and merry.

It was evening before the groom and bride sneaked off. They were booked into a hotel in London for the next day before returning to their respective homes in preparation for the Indian wedding. It was all very romantic and mysterious.

Derek searched her out after the couple left. “Mira,” he said, “let’s slip away from here.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Come,” he said and pulled her by her hand.

“Come Mira” He said, She liked the way he said

“Mira” there was a sort of lilt to it, She demurely followed him.

She had not changed and was still in her bridesmaid dress.

“I have to change,” she said.

He shook his head and without a word led her outside. It was a chilly evening; the western sky was splashed with the red hue of the setting sun. He took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders, leading her gently across the grass to the farthest end of the grounds. Miranda was finding it difficult to walk across the damp, soggy grounds. Her high heels were getting stuck. He picked her up and literally carried her to the farthest end of the grassy verge. She started to giggle. He put her down, lifted her chin up with one hand, and bent down and kissed her.

“I have been wanting to do this since yesterday,” he whispered in her ear. His kiss became very ardent, demanding, and Miranda felt her mouth being opened forcefully by his probing tongue. She gave in and felt completely limp in his tight embrace.

“Oh, Mira, Mira,” Derek muttered in a hoarse whisper. “I have missed you. Oh, how I have missed you.” Kissing her ardently. She felt desire emanating from him.

Desire was killing her too.

His hands slowly moved down and lifted her dress up. He wanted her desperately.

Suddenly she cried out, “No!” as she pushed him away from her. “No,” she said again.

“Just stop it.”

Her eyes flashed with anger and in a strong and angry voice, she blurted out, “You can’t just come back and use me, Derek.” Her eyes blazed, her lips quivered. “You didn’t even bother to call me. I am not a pushover. Why didn’t you call me? What do you take me for?” She took her shoes off and started to run across the grounds toward the hotel. Tears stung her eyes before streaming down her face. She was nearly choking. She wanted to go to her room and be alone.

He stood there rooted to the ground, his gaze transfixed on her receding back. It was the first time in his life that an incident of this nature had occurred to him. He felt ashamed, humiliated, and dumbfounded.

He was angry, so very angry. His blazing eyes bore into her back until she had disappeared from sight. He felt insulted. No woman had ever rejected him. She had pushed him away. What gall!

She walked up to the front desk to get her keys with her head held high. Her shoes were still in her hands and Derek’s jacket was still draped over her shoulders. She realized that she was wearing Derek’s jacket when she reached her massive beautifully furnished room. “Blast!” she said to herself. “Let him miss his jacket. After all, he is so rich one jacket will not make a difference!”

She knew she would have to face him again in two days’ time at the Indian wedding. She groaned just thinking about it.

After a restless night and an early breakfast she and her mother left for London. Molly was not fooled. Her daughter looked awful. She looked as if she had not slept the whole night. Her eyes were puffy
and she had no makeup on. She looked pale and had black rings under her eyes.

Miranda’s Mini pulled into the gravel drive in front of the porch. She had felt a little shy asking the porter to bring around her little car; compared to the other expensive cars, hers looked extremely out of place.

“What do I care?” she thought to herself.

Turning around in the passenger seat Molly saw a familiar tall figure standing at the entrance of the hotel looking very forlorn and dejected. His hand went up, and he waved good-bye. Molly reciprocated and waved back. Just at that moment Miranda also saw him in the rearview mirror. She ignored him and sped out of the hotel toward London. The exhaust throttled with so much sudden angry pressure on the accelerator!

She was not looking forward to the Indian wedding at all. He would be there, and at the reception they would be seated at the same table. Oh God, what would she do? She could not, not go. She would have to grin and bear it. She could fall ill or feign illness. Her mind was clogged up with useless thoughts. She and mother hardly spoke a word in the car. She felt relieved when she saw her mother dozing off. She would be spared the small talk.

The next two days were an absolute agony for Miranda. The wedding day finally dawned. It was a crisp, bright morning. The sun was shining, but it was cold. Being April, spring was round the corner, but it was still chilly.

For the Indian wedding Charu wore a red sari with hand-embroidered gold thread. Adorned with gold from head to toe, Charu looked like a princess, as pretty as a picture. The sari was draped so beautifully around her that the soft silk fell around her in a stunning look. She sat in the bridal chair with Charles standing beside her in churidar and achkan with a massive turban on his head. She had to laugh when she saw Derek in Indian clothes—being the best man he was dressed
similarly to the groom. Miranda and Derek pretended to ignore each other, but Miranda was acutely aware of his presence and he of hers. Every so often she and he stole glances at each other. Charu was too busy to notice anything. She was the bride, bedecked and bejeweled. She looked so happy.

Derek looked awfully good Miranda had to admit that. Oh, he was so handsome!

For his part, Derek was also finding it awfully difficult to look away. He was seething inside, and at the same time he realized his mistake at taking Miranda for granted. But life was not always as planned or expected. Once back in India he hardly had any time to reflect on London, on Miranda. And in the ensuing months he was seldom on his own to reminisce, what with the coolie dispute and running the factory and the gardens. All of these concerns combined tied him down to a very busy schedule. She should be happy that he was even able to make it to the wedding.

Derek was used to getting his own way most of the time. He had never been involved with a spirited girl like Miranda, and the unfamiliar situation unnerved him.

The wedding started with the pundit’s arrival and chanting of the vaidik mantras. Charles was led to where the pundit was seated on the floor cross-legged. Charu was then slowly led by a few of her friends, Miranda included, into the mandap, where the ceremony would be held. She joined them on the floor, and the ceremony started. Miranda, wearing her sari, pictured herself getting married like this, but then she quickly blotted the thought out. There were too many maybes and ifs.

The ceremony came to an end as the couple went to touch their parents’ feet to ask for their blessings. Charu’s mother wiped a tear with the end of her sari pallav. Father hugged his daughter and new son-in-law. Miranda’s eyes were misty, and she had to turn away and use her own sari pallav to wipe her tears too.

The meal was sumptuous, and it was clear that Charu’s father had not skimped where cost was concerned. He had given his daughter a proper send-off fit for a princess.

The guests dispersed, and Derek was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared, melted into thin air.

His other friends were looking for him as well, but he was nowhere to be found.

Well, Miranda figured, one chapter of her life was over.

After the wedding Charu left for Holland where Charles was based. Miranda felt pretty lost without her friend. She missed Charu’s calls, missed Charu. Days were dragging, the wedding was over, and there was no more excitement. It was back to the mundane world for Miranda, the one she knew so very well.

How could she change her life? What should she do? How could she get some money to do something other than what she was doing and the way she was living now?

According to her friends and family her life was good and she was not in want. Molly reminded her of how good she had it as the ration days were over and they were able to buy flour for bread and eggs for the occasional cake, which of course was still a luxury.

But bread, cakes, and black-and-white television were not enough for Miranda. She was pining for excitement. She had been led to the edge of that world, a world that she knew nothing about. She had been tossed out like a ragdoll after a peep, after she had just dipped her big toe in the water!

She tried to push Derek as far away from her mind as possible. She tried analyzing her behavior had she been right to reject him? What about another chance? Over and over again, she covered the same ground, the same thoughts.

She had no one to talk to, no one to turn to. She felt so alone. Her day-to-day routine was smothering her.

She tried dating some of the boys at work, but all the dates ended in fiasco. She refused to go out with them after the first or second date. She felt she could not cope with the kissing and petting that invariably followed. She couldn’t bear to be touched. What was the matter with her?

The boys did not excite her. There was no spark. They were all very similar, and they all led a similar sort of life: wake up in the morning,
take the Tube or the bus, go to work, maybe pop into a pub in the evenings. All very dull. She found it difficult to cope with their clumsy groping in the darkened picture houses. She often had to push them off of her. She had seen better, and she was searching for something as good or better.

Miranda received a call a few weeks after the wedding from Charu that she was coming back to London on her way to the Far East, as Charles had been posted to the Far East office.

The Far East! Where was that? Miranda didn’t have the foggiest! Where on earth was this place? Her knowledge of geography was very limited indeed. No matter—that was where the couple was headed after a brief spell in London.

Miranda wondered how Charu would look now, how she would be dressed. After all, she was married to a very rich man now. Would she be the same Charu she knew and had been friends with for so long? All these thoughts filled her mind. Thoughts of Derek also had a way of popping up when she was least expecting it, which always managed to make her miserable and melancholy. She didn’t want anything to do with him ever again. She was very angry with herself for giving into him. How could she? What had possessed her? Never again, she said to herself.