Lakshmi carried the food into the dining room from the kitchen. Raaken had taken the weekend off to visit his family in the next estate and she was helping out in the house. Shiro and her brothers were in Colombo that Easter. So it was just Tea-maker Aiya and Periamma who sat at the traditional Easter breakfast of boiled eggs and pancakes. In an attempt to be festive, Periamma had coloured the eggs with food dye. But Tea-maker Aiya was in no mood to notice.
‘It was probably the chief clerk who decided to have the party on Easter Sunday,’ he said. ‘He’s a Hindu. What does he care about this day? That idiot, Wright, would have gone along with it. He would take any chance to get drunk.’
Periamma sat silent, picking at a pancake. She had explained to Lakshmi that organising the staff party was traditionally seen as women’s work, and there being no female staff, the wives did the organising for the day. Periamma was by far the best cook and the most organised. Over the last few days, Lakshmi had helped her and the other women make pretty coloured eggs and cakes. Periamma had instructed the other women on how to make little triangular pastries with minced meat and potato filling and small cupcakes with frosty icing of different colours. Patties, she called the pastries. In the beginning the other wives had done all the things wrong, but they had learned and now almost everything was ready for the staff party later that day.
‘I have half a mind to not go. You can go with the ladies, if you want.’ Tea-maker Aiya grumbled. ‘This isn’t a time for partying, what with the coolies all set to go on strike and all.’ He sliced an egg in half – probably imagining it to be the chief-clerk Supramanium’s throat – poked one half into his mouth and chewed.
Rasiah Periamma poured him a fresh cup of tea. ‘You know we have to go, Appa. The Tea-maker and his wife have always attended the party.’
‘I know, I know,’ He groused, his mouth still half-full of egg. Pausing to swallow he continued in the same angry tone. ‘And not only is Anthony Ashley-Cooper coming, his brother’s going to be there too! We’ll have both high-and-mighty Ashley-Coopers there at once!’
‘Why do the superintendents come for these parties?’ Periamma’s brow creased in worry. ‘I can understand with the Irvines. It was some entertainment for Mrs Irvine and the girls. But two single men?’
‘Tradition, Lilly, tradition. They pay for it, they attend it. It’s pretence of good will while they squeeze the place dry. This time we get the Ashley-Cooper look-alikes – Anthony and William.’ Scowling he poked at a pancake.
Lakshmi picked up the empty plates.
Tea-maker Aiya glanced at the clock. ‘Before we leave for church, I have to visit the factory and check how the withering of the tea leaves is progressing.’ The chair scraped on the bare floor as he stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin. ‘Just be careful with Anthony and William today – they’re two peas from the same Ashley-Cooper pod.’ He strode out of the house.
Periamma watched as her husband walked down the path to the factory. She sighed and turned to look at Lakshmi. ‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘We have been married for twenty-five years, but there are still times when he treats me like a young girl.’
‘Periamma, it is beautiful. The way you both care for each other and the children.’ Unable to control her emotions, Lakshmi turned and ran into the kitchen.
***
The Tea-maker’s house was abuzz with the frying of spicy snacks and the last minute baking of cakes and biscuits. Periamma and Tea-maker Aiya had returned from Easter church service. Lakshmi had come immediately after she finished the morning shift of tea plucking and was busy cooking for the party.
Lakshmi bent down over the wood-fired oven to take out another batch of biscuits. Periamma watched her fan the biscuits on the serving tray. ‘You must learn to cook the Sri Lankan Tamil way, Lakshmi. Making cakes is good, but you must learn rice and curries also. Then we can get you employment in a house. That is the only way you will get away from being a tea plucker.’
Last evening Lakshmi had heard them talking. ‘She does not belong in the line rooms,’ Periamma had said to Tea-maker Aiya. ‘She is pretty and fair complexioned. Maybe we could arrange a marriage for her with a lower level staff member? There is that nice young Indian man, Sundaram, the junior book-keeper.’
Lakshmi winced as she remembered Tea-maker Aiya’s reply. ‘Don’t be silly, Lilly. What staff member in his right mind would marry a coolie girl? That would be the end of his promotion chances in the plantations.’
***
The staff members were putting up the last of the streamers and balloons and people had begun to trickle in for the party.
Lakshmi stood behind Periamma looking around the clubhouse.
Tea-maker Aiya came in, carrying a book. ‘Look at all this rubbish,’ he grumbled. ‘And these women. Who taught them to dress, for goodness’ sake? What do they think they are, Vesak lanterns? Or at a Thovil ceremony.’
Periamma shushed him as the assistant Tea-maker’s wife, Mrs Wright, approached. She was dressed in a maroon and green silk sari with a shiny green jacket under it. The sari was decorated with sequins, which shone and sparkled as she moved. The jacket rode high on her body, revealing a generous bulge of brown flesh. The hair piled up on her head was adorned with a bunch of red plastic orchids. To top it all, she had plucked her eyebrows and coloured her eyelids dark blue. Mr Wright, carrying six bottles of arak, followed her across the room. His eyes were glazed and he staggered as he walked.
Tea-maker Aiya rolled his eyes. ‘I am glad you look normal.’ He shoved a finger in the direction of the Wrights. ‘Look at that man. Drunk already!’
Periamma looked down at her blue cotton sari, then across to her husband, the only staff member who had not bothered to change out of his casual factory clothes. ‘Yes, we are different, aren’t we?’
‘This is all very nice, no?’ Mrs Wright teetered up to them, her round, fleshy face beaming. ‘You like my makeup? My daughter Roshni has just finished the beautician course in Nuwara-Eliya, no? She helped the other ladies also. Shall I ask her to do your face also?’ She peered into Periamma’s face.
‘Thank you Mrs Wright, that is so kind, but I am afraid we don’t have time for that. I have to make sure the food is served.’ She turned to Tea-maker Aiya, ‘Will you help me please?’ Periamma grabbed his arm and moved him away.
‘She can stick her daughter’s makeup where the monkey stuck the nuts,’ Tea-maker Aiya mumbled under his breath as he followed her.
Lakshmi went into the kitchen at the back of the clubhouse and opened the trays of food. After laying out the food as Rasiah Periamma had asked her to, she slipped out and stood by the kitchen door. No one took any notice of her. After all, she was just a coolie helper.
The party was in full swing and the baila music blaring over the speakers when the two Ashley-Cooper Periadorais drove up to the clubhouse. The uniformed chauffer held the door of the black Wolseley open as the two men got out of the car. Someone turned the volume of the music down and a hush descended across the room.
Mr Wright was swaying from side to side and hiccupping. Mrs Wright hustled him into the kitchen. Lakshmi caught Periamma’s eye and shut the kitchen door.
Lakshmi recognised Watakälé Periadorai as the one who had spoken to her in the field. The other one looked a lot like him. He was a little taller and broader. Watakälé Periadorai was smiling. The other man had a scowl on his face.
He must be Udatänná Periadorai.
The task of welcoming the Periadorais had fallen to Periamma. Naturally! Tucking the fall of her sari around her waist, she walked over to the door of the clubhouse. Everyone else in the room was silent and her words carried to Lakshmi.
‘Welcome to the staff party. It is a pleasure to see you both,’ she said to the men.
Watakälé Periadorai bowed at his waist slightly and held out his hand. ‘The pleasure is all ours, Mrs Rasiah.’ H
e turned to the other man, ‘You have not met my brother, have you? William is the superintendent of Udatänná. William, Mrs Rasiah is the wife of the Tea-maker in Watakälé.’
William, Udatänná Periadorai, ignored his brother’s words. He looked around the room, keeping both hands firmly in the pockets of his pair of trousers.
Periamma spoke directly to Udatänná Periadorai. ‘I am glad you could join us, Mr Ashley-Cooper. It is good of you to come all the way from Udatänná. Would you like to sit down?’
Udatänná Periadorai raised his eyebrows and stared back at her. The blue eyes were cruel and cold.
Lakshmi shivered. It hurt her to see Periamma being treated like that. She could see from Watakälé Periadorai’s face that he didn’t like it, either.
Udatänná Periadorai shrugged his shoulders and sat down. Watakälé Periadorai settled in another chair.
Periamma looked around. The staff members and their wives seemed to have either gone into the kitchen or were in a huddle by the drinks trolley.
Tea-maker Aiya was nowhere to be seen.
Elmo, the 18-year-old son of the apothecary, was standing by the record player. ‘Come, Elmo.’ Periamma beckoned to the young man. ‘I am sure the superintendents would be interested to hear about how you play rugby for Kandy schools.’
Having settled that, Periamma nodded to Lakshmi. Lakshmi went into the kitchen. The women were crowded together, talking. ‘Aney, they are both very handsome, no?’ Mrs Wright giggled. ‘I must introduce Roshni later. Could be useful in job hunting, no? A reference from the superintendent is a big thing.’
‘And so young,’ another woman commented. ‘Wonder how they will manage?’
This comment reduced them all to giggles. A couple of women looked at Lakshmi and nudged each other.
‘They will find a way I am sure. Like their father did.’ one sniggered.
Lakshmi shuffled from foot to foot, then spoke to Mrs Wright. ‘I think Periamma wants some food taken out.’
Mrs Wright picked up a tray of cakes and spicy snacks and shoved it in Lakshmi’s hands. ‘You take it out.’
‘But –’
‘Don’t argue with me, you idiot. Do as you’re told.’ Mrs Wright shoved Lakshmi out through the kitchen door into the clubhouse.
It was wrong for a coolie girl to serve the Periadorai food. But what was she to do? She looked at her long maroon cotton skirt and white satin blouse with sequined lace at the collar. Periamma had sewn it for her. The new pair of slippers on her feet was Shiro’s Uncle George’s Christmas gift to Lakshmi.
At least she was dressed all right today.
Taking a deep breath, she walked tray in hand, across the room towards where the Periadorais were seated. Periamma looked up as Lakshmi approached. Her brow knit in a frown. Lakshmi saw the look of worry, almost fear in her eyes. She turned to the Periadorais. ‘Would you like to try some of our Tamil snacks? They are called palaharams. These are vadai, a spicy fried snack of pulses. Those yellow ones are semolina and honey. Or maybe some love cake?’ She pointed out the various sweets on the tray that Lakshmi was holding.
Udatänná Periadorai kept his hand on the sweet tray and stared at Lakshmi. Lakshmi met his eyes and quickly looked away. Periamma flinched. Lakshmi stared down at the tray, shivering with fear.
‘Is this pretty lass your daughter, Mrs Rasiah?’ Udatänná Periadorai drawled.
‘No, Mr Ashley-Cooper, my daughter is studying in Colombo,’ Rasiah Periamma’s voice was soft, controlled.
Lakshmi stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. The tray wobbled in her hands.
Watakälé Periadorai reached out and took a piece of cake. He smiled at Lakshmi. ‘Thank you.’ His voice was gentle, even kind, and completely different from his brother.
‘I thought all staff children studied in Nuwara-Eliya or Kandy?’ Udatänná Periadorai released his hold on the tray long enough to take a piece of cake. Lakshmi promptly backed away, placed the tray on a table and rushed back toward the kitchen.
‘No, our daughter is in Colombo,’ she heard Periamma reply. ‘She is studying at a Methodist missionary girls’ school. She should be finished and back home next year.’
Lakshmi glanced back. ‘A missionary school?’ Udatänná Periadorai’s lip curled in a sneer. ‘I thought all you natives were heathens?’
Stepping behind a pillar, Lakshmi peeked out to watch and listen to them talk.
‘No, Mr Ashley-Cooper, we are Christians,’ Periamma continued. Others wouldn’t notice, but Lakshmi heard the hurt in her words. ‘All three of our children have attended missionary schools in Colombo. My elder two boys are in university there.’
‘Wonders will never cease.’ Udatänná Periadorai waved his hand, dismissing her and her comments as irrelevant. He scanned the room, his eyes narrowed, cruel and calculating.
Mr Wright moved towards Udatänná Periadorai with a tray of drinks. ‘Sir, what will you drink, sir?’
‘Straight whisky, man,’ answered Udatänná Periadorai with a yawn. ‘Anything to liven up this place.’
‘Sir, you have not met my wife and daughter, have you, sir?’ Mr Wright continued, motioning them forward. Mrs Wright minced across the room. She held her daughter Roshni by the hand. Roshni was dressed in a low cut red blouse and a skirt that barely covered her shapely bottom. She wriggled and smiled at Udatänná Periadorai.
He pointedly stared at her breasts and then dropped his eyes to her waist and lower.
Periamma got up and moved over to the group in charge of the music. ‘Let’s get the music going.’
***
The staff members relaxed as the night wore on. People danced the baila. Others got drunk. Mr Wright vomited in the tea bushes. The women gathered and gossiped. Periamma hovered, making sure the food and drinks were served and cleared up. Lakshmi washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen.
A couple of hours passed.
Udatänná Periadorai stood talking with Mr Wright and Roshni. He had a number of empty whisky glasses next to him. His hand rested on Roshni’s waist.
Lakshmi walked around the room with a tray, collecting empty plates and glasses. Udatänná Periadorai stared at her as she picked up the empty glasses on the table next to him. He bent down and whispered to Roshni.
Roshni looked at Lakshmi and giggled.
Watakälé Periadorai was chatting with some of the younger staff members about the relative merits of the Sri Lankan and Indian cricket teams. He moved over to Udatänná Periadorai. ‘I’m sorry to break up the party.’ His eyes fixed on his brother. ‘But we should be going.’ He turned to Mr Wright and Roshni. ‘My brother has a long ride back to Udatänná.’
Udatänná Periadorai scowled. He stared at his brother, but said nothing. He turned away without a further word to anyone and sauntered to the front door.
He jumped in the back seat of the car, then yelled out, ‘Come on, Anthony, I’ve had my gutful of hobnobbing with your minions.’
Watakälé Periadorai ignored him. He went round the room, shaking hands and thanking the staff. He smiled as he did so, but his eyes were dark and angry.
Periamma walked with Watakälé Periadorai to the front door. Lakshmi slipped out of the back door of the kitchen. She stood behind the tall canna plants. She wanted to be there to help Periamma if needed.
Watakälé Periadorai shook hands with Periamma. ‘Mrs Rasiah, thank you very much for a lovely evening.’ His voice dropped. Lakshmi leaned forward to hear his words. ‘I must apologise for my brother –’
‘No,’ Periamma spoke clear and loud. ‘The staff party can be overwhelming for someone unused to boisterous Sri Lankan entertainment. Thank you both for attending the event.’
Watakälé Periadorai shook her hand again. ‘Thank you.’
‘Let’s go, little brother,’ Udatänná Periadorai hollered from the back
seat of the car. ‘I need some fresh air.’
Watakälé Periadorai slipped into the front seat by the driver. The car rumbled down the drive, away from the clubhouse.
Lakshmi stepped out of the shadow just in time to hear Periamma mutter ‘Rajan is right. William is an arrogant bastard.’ She looked at Lakshmi. Her eyes were tired, sad. ‘Lakshmi, where is Tea-maker Aiya?’ Together they walked back into the clubhouse.
Tea-maker Aiya came out of a side storeroom, carrying a book. He scratched his head and yawned. ‘Have they gone?’
Periamma shook her head. ‘Appa, that was rude.’
Tea-maker Aiya chortled. ‘I don’t think anyone even noticed.’
The Periadorais’ departure signalled an end to the party. People started packing up. Mrs Wright grabbed Periamma’s arm. ‘He is a very nice man, no? The superintendent of Udatänná – Mr William? He has told Roshni that if she wants a good job to contact him. You should talk to him about your children also.’ Giggling, she lurched away on her high-heeled slippers.
‘I can imagine what job he will have for Roshni to do,’ Tea-maker Aiya said under his breath.
By the time Lakshmi and the Rasiahs finished packing up it was past ten o’clock at night. They drove to the Tea-maker’s house. ‘It’s very lonely on the road at this time, Lakshmi,’ Periamma said as the three of them unfolded themselves from the old Morris Minor. ‘You should sleep here tonight.’
‘No, Periamma,’ Lakshmi said with a chuckle. She ran into the storeroom and changed into her old clothes. ‘We all go about at this time. It is safe. I will run all the way to the line room. I won’t take the short cut. I’ll go by the main road past the weighing shed.’ With that she dashed out the back door, shutting it behind her.
‘Be careful,’ Rasiah Periamma called after her.
Lakshmi meandered along the road, forgetting her promise to run back to the line room. What was there to run back to? She wished she had accepted the offer and stayed overnight in the Tea-maker’s house. Lakshmi looked up. The moon was a silver ball hanging in the velvet black sky. Fluffy grey clouds moved across its shining face. Fireflies glittered and glimmered in the trees. An owl hooted in a tree.
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