The Onus of Ancestry

by Arpita Mogford

  She was touched and said, “Barun, your friendship was just as invaluable to me then as it is now.”

  Barun honoured his agreement with Dwita and accepted the place she offered him in her life. Somehow, later on, it had not rankled so much. He knew her well – he knew she could not be moved from her stand. He also understood that Dwita had committed herself completely to Christopher Ashton, where love and passion were concerned. He wondered if Christopher truly understood the extent of Dwita’s devotion to him, to the exclusion of everything else that mattered to her. If he did, then why did he not do anything about it?

  He had only once tried to ask her and she refused to discuss it. It was a private affair and she meant to keep it that way. Once the basis of their friendship was established, Barun knew that Dwita’s loyalty to him was real and undiluted, but there could never be anything more between them. Neither he nor anyone else could ever take Christopher’s place in her life.

  CHAPTER XIV

  Time had passed, it had been over a year since Barun had left India for Harvard again. Dwita missed him, their easy chatter, the arguments and discussions and light-hearted bantering; somehow he had brought back a taste of irresponsible living to her. Although her way of life usually left her with few free evenings or even weekends which she could call her own, she had still found time to spend as many hours as possible in his company. Separation from Christopher had been easier to bear when soothed by Barun’s flippant good humour. But those few months had soon passed and he had left again, saying he would return in the near future to take on the harness of paternal concerns.

  Mrs Mitra, Barun’s mother, had tried very hard to get him engaged to one of the many young female aspirants for a handsome Harvard graduate, but she had failed utterly – in the end she blamed it all on his infatuation with Dwita. She had told him in no uncertain terms that as long as she was alive she would not let her son marry a widow – a widow with the curse of three generations of widowhood on her head. Barun was furious with her and had said, “I would respect your maternal status more if you did not concern yourself with my personal affairs. Your good fortune in married life does not entitle you to insult those less fortunate. If I wish to take a wife, I shall choose her myself, widow or not.” Mrs Mitra was very hurt by her son’s attitude and had bemoaned it to her husband who in his turn had also recommended she keep out of it. Abani Mitra was anxious for his son to come back and did not want him put off by his wife’s old-fashioned beliefs.

  In the office Dwita found that Rusi was increasingly talking about retirement. He had not been very well lately and had been advised by his doctors to take it easy. Janet was anxious for them to buy a small property in England, as she knew that if she outlived Rusi she would like to return to her own country. She had always liked living in India, enjoyed the easy gracious style of life which she was used to leading in Rusi’s company, but she knew that she could never survive in India alone. She had no children of her own and knew how lonely she could be without Rusi. Prospects of a solitary future frightened her. She often wondered how Dwita managed to get by simply on her own.

  Dwita had finally asked the Wadias about Diana, on her return from Bombay. They had not said very much to allay her curiosity besides what Christopher had already conveyed to her. She was sometimes disturbed by the thought of Diana – she did not know quite why. It was something in her subconscious that surfaced from time to time.

  Recently when Rusi had brought up the question of retirement again, Dwita had mentioned to him that she herself was contemplating leaving Calcutta for a while, as she felt rather restricted professionally, and the social constraints of her past associations had begun to irk her. Rusi was very cooperative and said why did she not spend more time travelling overseas on Sunbeam business, to find out if she would really enjoy living outside India. If she did, Rusi could arrange for her to join an allied concern in England or elsewhere overseas after his own retirement from Sunbeam – but not before, he had emphasised. Dwita was overjoyed by his sympathetic response and accepted happily that she should continue until his retirement.

  Her opportunity soon came when he sent her off for three months to England again to help manage Reed Enterprises, whilst Ernest Reed was contemplating a short of period of rest and recovery in the Swiss mountains after recent major surgery. He had been very ill and in trying to return too soon to his desk after his operation he had further postponed his recovery. Whilst he was on the telephone to Rusi Wadia on some business matter, he had brought up the subject of his ill-health and his predicament of not finding anyone who could keep an eye on some of his affairs whilst he took leave in Switzerland. Rusi in expansive mood, had generously offered Dwita’s services, setting aside his need for her in Calcutta. He did so because he knew that Ernest was a good businessman and that Dwita wanted a break desperately. Ernest was delighted at Rusi’s unexpected gesture – all concerned with Sunbeam were well aware of his possessive hold over Dwita’s time and services. But Rusi wanted her to be happy and also to go further in her profession, always conscious of the fact that was all she had to fill her life.

  Dwita was very grateful but when she tried to express it, Rusi merely said, “Do not worry too much, my girl, I am letting you go because I intend taking some leave myself. I shall soon follow you – bad luck, you won’t get rid of me so easily.”

  She left for London within a few days, seen off as usual by the Wadias and her family. Arriving in Heathrow had, however, been different this time – there was no Christopher to receive her or guide her round London and no Parkinsons to make her feel at home. She was treated like a veteran traveller by Ernest Reed who had not met her, but had booked her into a service suite near Sloane Square. She was expected to find her own way to it, as he knew that she was familiar with that area of London. He had mentioned to her during their last telephone conversation that if she did not like the place, she did not have to stay in it beyond the weekend and he would find her somewhere else.

  She in fact liked it instantly. It was clean and well-kept, quite comfortable and had been decorated recently. She had been received by a friendly porter on arrival who was already expecting her and handed her a letter of welcome from Ernest. She was shown to a comfortable bed-sitting room with a small bathroom and a fully equipped kitchen.

  The porter had thoughtfully left her a bag of essentials, and there was enough daylight left for her to get a few other items. It was only Friday and she would have the whole of the weekend to herself.

  She telephoned her mother and Rusi to let them know she had arrived safely. She also phoned Ernest, although she was not at all sure whether an Englishman would care to be bothered on a Friday evening, even by someone who had come to make life easier for him. He was not in and she had left a recorded message.

  Above all, she wanted to speak to John and Jennifer, even though in a moment of impulse she had decided not to tell them about her visit. Ever since they had hidden the fact of Diana’s adoption from her she had felt a little wary of them. But she also knew that she could not possibly avoid getting in touch at some point while she was in England – and thought that postponing the moment would only make it more difficult. Moreover, she was keen to see Diana, and she could not hide her curiosity. She hoped they had no objection to her meeting the girl. But why should they? She decided to telephone the same evening.

  She rang their Oleander number as she expected them to be in the country, it being Friday. There was no reply so she dialled the London number, and a happy child’s voice answered, “Hello, who are you? Mummy is not in.”

  “I am mummy’s friend. Are you Diana?”

  “Yes, but how do you know my name?”

  “Ah, that is a big secret.”

  “Tell me – tell me – who are you?” She could visualise a small figure jumping up and down, eager to find out more about the mysterious caller.

  “I am Dwita.”

  “Deeta? Wait, I’ll call Annie – one minute. Annieee! Oh, Mummy is
coming now – Mummy it’s Deeee—-ta for you.”

  Jennifer’s voice came clear on the phone.

  “Dwita, is it you? Janet called us earlier to say that you were hoping to get in this weekend. Why did you keep it a surprise, my dear? We could have met you at Heathrow. We were afraid you were avoiding us!”

  “Of course not – I just did not want to bother you. After all, there is Diana to–” she let her sentence hang in the air.

  “You know about her? Yes, she seems to take all our time these days.”

  “Would you let me see her? I mean meet her?”

  “Of course, why do you ask?” Jennifer sounded a little anxious.

  “Well, you had kept it a secret from me after all.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I don’t really know why, Jennifer? If you do not mind my asking–”

  “It was only that we didn’t want to hurt you by reminding you of your own loss. But now that you are here you are of course going to see her.”

  “I am so glad, as I am looking forward very much to meeting her. She sounds so delightful on the telephone.”

  “Come and spend tomorrow with us then. Are you free? I can pick you up at eleven.”

  “That will not be necessary, I can get to you myself by about twelve if that is convenient – I am quite near.”

  Although she was longing to see John and Jennifer again she was strangely apprehensive. She somehow felt that she was deliberately willing herself into a situation which would eventually enclose her like a web. She would lose herself in its power and there would be no return. She was certainly afraid, but of what? She dismissed it as her fertile imagination working overtime and refused to accept the premonition.

  She went out for some fresh air and at the same time to pick up a few things from the neighbourhood supermarket. She bought herself some supper from one of the delicatessens on Sloane Street and bought a box of very good chocolates for Diana. Nothing had changed – London seemed to have stopped still since she left it years ago. She came back to her little den and made herself comfortable in front of the television to eat her simple supper of ham and salad. Her foolish apprehensions had vanished, and she could not wait for Saturday to come.

  *

  Next day she walked without haste down Lower Sloane Street towards Royal Hospital Road, and soon found herself in front of the well-known block of flats. She took herself to the fifth floor and rang the doorbell. Jennifer opened the door and embraced her warmly. John followed her. They were both truly happy to see her, but looked just a little nervous and ill-at-ease. To smooth the tension, Dwita came straight to the point, saying breezily, “So where is my new friend? I have come all this way to see her!”

  “Not us?” John tried a joke.

  “You too, of course – but today she is more important.”

  A pattering of light feet was followed by a face peeping from behind the curtains. A young girl of about eighteen accompanied the child and was trying to coax her to emerge.

  Jennifer said, “Diana, come here, my pet, come and meet Dwita – and Dwita this is Annie, who takes care of Diana.”

  She was tiny, and her head of dark curly hair framed a pale oval face in which uniform white teeth peeped out like a row of seed pearls from the Nizam’s coffers. She was sturdy and round rather than tall. Dwita was mesmerised, her eyes transfixed by the small, smiling face. She felt she had seen her before, met her in the sleepless dreams of her lonely nights. She stood rooted to the spot, all her attention glued to the small familiar figure that now confronted her.

  “Dwita, are you feeling well?”

  “Oh, yes – I just felt a little peculiar for a second.”

  “Diana, come on, dear, don’t be shy – come and meet Dwita.”

  But Dwita did not wait for the little girl to come, she went towards her, steadily and with measured steps, giving Diana a chance to get away if she wished to – she did not. She stood there waiting. Dwita held her lightly, running her hands over her gently as though Diana was a china doll, and even a little pressure would risk her breaking. Diana still did not move. She looked at Dwita, felt the rich silk folds of the saree on her shoulder and said softly in her ear, “Deeta, I like you – will you play with me?”

  “I like you too,” Dwita whispered into the little ear in return. “What shall we play, Dia?”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Jennifer asked quickly. “What did you call her, Dwita?”

  “May I call her Dia? Dia is a little lamp in my country, a little oil-lamp. Diana’s eyes reminded me of the thousand dia that burn on the night of the Diwali in India, our festival of lights.”

  “How romantic, what a lovely name to give her – of course, you may call her that.”

  So she became Dia to Dwita. Dia, had been drawn to Dwita like a magnet, and as from that moment a deep attachment had grown up between them, a unique rapport that strangers do not feel. But to Dwita, Diana was not a stranger, she was that missing reality that had fallen and been lost before she could claim it. John and Jennifer were happy to see the instant bond between the two, but could not conceal a slight jealousy.

  To Dwita, Dia looked all Indian, but the Parkinsons had merely said she was ‘oriental’ and seemed disinclined to discuss her origins further. Dwita had left it at that. She too was wary of knowing more, almost feeling she knew too much already. She was swept away by the maternal instincts that had lain hidden within her all these years. From that day onwards she spent most of her free time with Dia, not always at the Parkinsons, but often taking her back to the bedsit or going out for walks or picnics by the Thames, or in London’s parks. They fed the fish and the ducks, smelled the flowers, read together and watched cartoon shows on television. John and Jennifer did not object to this, they took the opportunity to spend more time with each other. Diana’s au pair, Annie, was also pleased as she now had extra time to prepare for her English examinations. Yet Dwita at first was unaware of quite how complete her absorption with Dia was. Dia, too, refused to leave her new friend alone – if she did not manage to see Dwita for two days in a row, she complained that ‘Deeta’ did not like her any more. She rang her often before going to bed just to wish her goodnight. When she realised how indispensable Dia was becoming to her it worried Dwita at times. She knew that though John and Jennifer had accepted her presence in Dia’s life, they would never agree to anything more. They were fiercely possessive of their parental rights.

  Christopher had telephoned her from Singapore on her first Monday morning at Reed Enterprises. Dwita was excited, thinking he would have fixed a date to come over. But he had bad news – Julia had been ill and he could not leave her and the boys until she had recovered. He had postponed some of his business trips because of that. As soon as she was well, he would have to travel for two or three weeks visiting projects in South East Asia and only after that would he be able to make his way to England. Dwita appreciated his predicament and in the solitude of her own room reminded herself that Christopher’s main concerns were obviously his family and his business. She took second or third place in his life, even though she did not doubt his love for her was alive and strong. She had not let Christopher detect the disappointment but said cheerfully, “Well, I am here for the next three months, so I hope you can at least make it before I leave.” They had spoken to each other subsequently, but she had never again asked him to come.

  Some six weeks later he had suddenly appeared in her office, briefcase in hand, looking tired and breathless, but still very handsome in his dark grey business suit. Dwita was completely thrown, but had simply said, “You? But you never told me you were coming?”

  “Have I spoilt your plans in any way? I have a taxi waiting, I can always go away.”

  “Chris dear, what is the matter with you?” She went to him and touched his face lightly. He caught her hand then, and squeezed it as though he was going to break it – he was trying to control himself. “Christopher, it is nearly five and time to pack up. Let us go home. I have
a very small bed sitter, but I am not so large that you cannot fit into it too.”

  He relaxed immediately and smiled with some effort. They left together. Her secretary was a little surprised as Mrs Roy, as Dwita was called, never left her office so early, and never before her. Who was he? Obviously someone special.

  Christopher was exhausted by the long flight from Hong Kong and the events of the past few weeks. He had at last asked for his freedom from Julia, and for custody of the children, or failing that the custody of Brent, which he thought would be fair. He would have preferred to take them both because he knew how close they were to each other. She had refused him out of hand on both counts. She knew that Christopher would never leave the boys – in them lay her own safety and security. He had then left home, spent two weeks en route visiting his projects and took the decision to come on straight to London and Dwita. He had told her everything as soon as he had collapsed onto the sofa, as though he had to unburden himself without delay in order to breathe freely again.

  “Now what, Dwita?” he said in dismay. “How long can I keep you waiting? I know I have no right to ruin your chance of a full life.”

  “Who told you that I wanted any more from life, or from you, than you have given me already? I have never asked you to leave your family in order to come to me. I understand that they need you more in some ways than I do, though I must admit that I cannot conceive not seeing you again or losing you completely. But in life, who knows?”

  He pulled her to him and said sadly, “Why did we take so long to meet up with each other? We could have saved ourselves so much pain and disappointment – now it seems too late – is it, Dwita? Is there really no way–”

  “We will talk again when you have rested and can think better and when I have recovered my breath,” she said, determined to cheer him. “I am excited as a child to see you and you cannot expect me to be sensible and serious now. I am going to make us some tea and you are going to be spoilt with some of Dia’s chocolate éclairs. How about that? I can also make some very thin cucumber sandwiches to make you feel English and royal.”