by Liz Harris
He glanced at her. ‘Your hair is very beautiful; like field of ripe barley in sun.’
‘You make my hair sound like a bowl of cereal,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Ripe barley is very beautiful. But your hair is not like porridge,’ he added, a note of amusement in his voice.
‘Porridge!’ she exclaimed, and burst out laughing. ‘How on earth do you know about porridge?’
‘Peter talk and talk about porridge. He miss having porridge for breakfast. One Christian feast day, Mrs Henderson got porridge for Peter from England. Peter and I eat porridge. Is good, but not beautiful like hair of Patricia.’ He paused. ‘I should not speak like this.’
‘You mean, in case you get hurt?’ Their eyes met. Kalden was the first to look away.
He picked up a large stone from next to his foot and threw it hard down the slope. They sat still, listening to the stone ricochet against the hard rock wall until it landed with a dull thud on the boulders and shale at the edge of the water.
‘Did your family mind you being friends with the missionaries?’
‘Yes,’ he said shortly. ‘Ama and aba – my mother and father – not like me going to the Henderson family and are pleased they are gone. But I miss the family. I hurt very much when they go and I still very sad they are gone.’
‘You said they left a year ago. That’s a long time to be feeling so sad.’
He picked up another stone and threw it down the slope. ‘In England, many things happen in one year, and every year is different. In Ladakh, life is same this year as last year. We plough fields, we sow seeds, we look after crops, we harvest. Then it gets very cold and we have long rest, with parties, festivals and stories. We eat food we grown in year before and we wear clothes we made. Then comes good weather and we plough fields again and sow seeds. Nothing is different. Nothing makes me stop remembering my friends,’ he said flatly.
‘But people make their own changes in life, don’t they?’ She paused imperceptibly. ‘They get married, for instance, and have a family of their own.’
He shrugged his shoulders, his face expressionless.
‘I’m sorry, I never thought to ask before. You’re not married, are you, Kalden?’ She held her breath.
He gave a short, mirthless laugh and turned his eyes to the sky. ‘No. I’m a fourth son.’
She felt herself start breathing again. ‘It’s not the first time you’ve said that you’re the fourth son. What does it mean, apart from the fact that you’ve got three older brothers?’
He jumped up and vigorously wiped the seat of his trousers. ‘We go back now. We take a different path and go along kongka – along the ridge. Path go around top of plateau and we see river as we walk. Then we go between big rocks back to track, and track takes us back to village. Is very beautiful walk. Come.’
Trying to shake off a growing sense of despair, she watched as he busied himself, picking up their lunch bowls and putting them into his rucksack, then she got to her feet. ‘I suppose you’re right, we ought to be moving,’ she said, and she adjusted the collar of her white, cotton shirt and tucked her jeans more tightly into her boots. ‘We said we’d be home earlier today, what with the amchi coming again this evening.’
They put their rucksack on their back and set off along the single-track path which skirted the rim of the high plateau, the river below them on their right and a mass of jagged crags on their left. Kalden led the way and Patricia followed him closely until the path widened sufficiently for her to walk at his side. Lost in their thoughts, neither spoke, but each glanced at the other from time to time.
When they’d gone some distance, the track narrowed again and veered sharply away from the line of the river in order to avoid a pile of huge boulders perched on the edge of the ridge. Before skirting the boulders, Patricia stood still and stared ahead of her at the blue-green river which stretched out to the hazy horizon, meandering sinuously between the sheer walls of scree that rose from the depth of the ravine, their colours and shadows changing minute by minute in the fickleness of the afternoon sun.
‘It really is lovely.’ She took a step closer to the edge of the plateau, and felt Kalden move to her side and place his hand lightly under her elbow. ‘You can see for miles from up here, and every single inch is beautiful: the river, the mountains, the flowers.’
She turned to him, and he dropped his hand. ‘Come, we go, Patricia,’ he said quietly, and he went back to the path.
‘Even the swinging bridges look pretty from up here,’ she remarked when they’d passed the boulders and were walking parallel with the river again. ‘Not that I’m keen to go over any of them again. I haven’t forgotten how precarious they feel.’
‘Precarious? What does this mean?’
‘It means dangerous. As if the bottom of the bridge could break at any minute, or as if the whole thing might suddenly move and you’d fall over the side.’
‘Some people fall over side. Many bridges are only thin planks of wood. Planks are tied together. End of bridge stands on heavy log, and log stands on a pile of stones. Bridges are precarious. See, I learn new word. But we leave river path here,’ he said, coming to a halt in front of a thin fissure between two tall crags. ‘We get to track through here.’ He stepped into the thin shaft of light that slanted to the ground between the two rocks. ‘Is difficult. Very small space and many rose-bushes on rocks. Sharp thorns on bushes.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him, and she followed him closely, her eyes fixed on the back in front of her as she edged her way forward.
‘Thorns, Patricia! You watch,’ Kalden suddenly shouted just before they reached the light at the end of the passage, and he stopped. She peered around him and looked at the ground. Wild rose-bushes were growing from the base of the stony outcrops on either side of them and stretching in a tangled mass across their path.
He held up his hand. ‘You wait.’
Using his legs, he carefully pushed some of the thorny branches to one side, then he flattened himself against the rock, trapping the higher-growing branches between his back and the rock. ‘You walk now,’ he said. ‘Path be wider after bushes.’
Holding her hand, he helped her to pass in front of him. Once she was clear of the prickly tendrils, he followed her, cautiously releasing the branches as he went, and they walked along the widening path, side by side, her hand still in his.
As they emerged into the glare of the afternoon sun, he let her hand fall. She looked pointedly down at her hand and then questioningly up at him.
‘No more roses,’ he said, avoiding her eyes, and he led the way across the parched ground to the track.
‘I know what you said about being hurt, but I still don’t really understand what you mean,’ she said, keeping pace with him. She put her hand on his arm, and he stopped where he was and turned to her.
‘I close to Henderson family. When they go, I very sad. You go back to England when harvest done. You and me, if we get close, I be very sad when you go – but a different sad, a worse sad. You and me, we not friends like missionary friends. They call me son. Peter like brother to me.’
‘And me?’
‘You not see me as son or brother,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I feel that. And I not see you as sister. Not at all like sister.’ He took hold of both her hands and stared hard into her face. ‘You are woman and I am man. When I hold your hand, I hold the hand of a woman, a woman who is very special. And I feel like a man. That is not good, not with a woman who is special. I must not hold hands with you, Patricia,’ he said, and he released her hands. ‘I not want to hurt very much when you go back England.’
She looked up into his face. His lids lowered, but not before she’d seen the longing and desire that burned in the depths of his eyes.
‘You know, Kalden, sometimes it’s worth getting hurt,’ she said, her voice shaking, and she leaned forward and tentatively kissed him on his lips.
Brushing against him, she felt the lean muscle of his ch
est against her body, and she shivered. Goosepimples ran along her arms, and she quickly stepped back, colouring. ‘I know I shouldn’t have done that after what you said, but I did it anyway because I wanted to.’
She turned away, shaking, and started to walk along the track, leaving him standing there, staring after her.
Minutes later, he caught up with her and walked in silence at her side, his hands deep in his trouser pockets, his eyes on the ground.
‘I wish you’d say something,’ she ventured after a while. ‘I never normally behave like that – I’ve never done such a thing before. I wouldn’t. I don’t know what came over me. Yes, I do,’ she added with a slight smile in his direction. ‘But if it’s not something that you want … ’
He stopped walking and turned to her, his face ragged with despair. ‘I do want, Patricia. I must not, but I do want,’ he burst out, his voice thick with emotion.
The blood drained from her face. ‘What is it, Kalden? Please tell me what it is. Is it something to do with my father?’
He shook his head, his eyes bleak, and looked away.
‘Please tell me,’ she begged. ‘The amchi’s coming tonight. Father will be coming out with us again very soon, maybe even tomorrow. This might be our last chance to talk properly. Please, is it to do with my father?’
‘Not your father. My brothers.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘It very complicated.’
‘But I want to understand. Start by telling me the names of your brothers,’ she said, desperately.
‘Tenzin, Anil and Rinchen.’
‘And have you any sisters?’ she prompted.
‘No sisters. Just three older brothers.’
‘Are they all married?’
‘Yes. They married to Deki.’
‘Which one’s married to Deki?’
‘All are married to Deki.’
She stared at him. ‘Are you saying that all of your brothers are married to Deki, or that there are three women called Deki?’
‘One woman called Deki. All brothers married to same Deki. They have children and are very happy. Deki is very nice.’
‘I know that Ladakhi women used to have more than one husband, but I thought that wasn’t allowed any longer.’
He shrugged. ‘Woman having more than one husband is good for Ladakh. In Ladakh, land is always kept in one piece for whole family. Whole family looks after land. Not much water in Ladakh. If every brother has wife, many wives in one family and many babies. But still only same piece of land and same little water. That makes big problem.’
‘So sharing a wife is a sort of population control?’
He gestured helplessly with his hands. ‘I not understand population control.’
She stared at him, and a thought struck her.
A sense of dread crept through her. She moved away from him and turned to stare with unseeing eyes at the jagged peaks of the mountains. She could feel his gaze on the side of her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
‘Are you, too, going to marry Deki? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? As you’re the youngest brother, you’ve got to marry the person chosen by your older brothers. Is that it?’
He laughed mirthlessly. ‘No, I not marry Deki.’
Weak with relief, she looked back at him. ‘Why not? Why not marry her if she’s already part of your family and that’s the way things are done here?’
He took a deep breath. ‘Wife not marry four brothers. And I not want to marry Deki, anyway.’ He started walking again.
She ran after him. ‘Then I still don’t understand.’
‘I not want to talk about me. I not interesting. I want to talk about you, Patricia. Have you brothers and sisters in England?’
‘But … ’
‘You have brothers and sisters?’
‘No sisters, but I did have one brother. His name was James.’
‘James go to university?’
‘No, he died when he was seventeen. He was very ill for most of his life.’
‘Oh, Patricia, that is sad.’ He stopped walking. His eyes full of sympathy, he took hold of her hand and gently squeezed it.
‘Yes, it was. My parents still haven’t got over what happened to him, and they probably never will. But really, dying was the best thing for him. He’d suffered for so many years and he was getting worse all the time.’
‘Losing brother very sad. Must miss brother.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said slowly. ‘But if I’m truly honest, although I was obviously really upset when he died, he’d been living somewhere else for so long – since he was eleven years old – that he hadn’t been part of my life for years, so I don’t miss him as much as I might have done. And things at home became easier after he died. A weight seemed to have been lifted from everyone. So yes, it was sad that James died, but in a way it was also a relief. You’re the first person I’ve ever told that to.’ She smiled. ‘It must be because you’re special to me, just like you say I am to you.’
He raised her hand to his lips, kissed it, then enclosed it in both of his hands. ‘If I not think about you as I do, it be easy to laugh, to hold your hand, to think only about today, to do what we want. But you are more to me, and this would not be right.’
He squeezed her hand, then dropped it, and they continued making their way past tiny strips of pastureland where yaks and dzo were grazing, past the manis and chortens dotted across the plain, past the fields outside the village where the stalks of ripening barley were growing tall in the heat of the summer days, their minds empty of everything except their awareness of the other.
The rays of the dying sun were casting long shadows across the dusty ground by the time that they reached the post house. As they went down the path, they saw that the front door was open and Wangyal was in the doorway, beaming in welcome. He stood aside to let them enter, closed the door behind them and hovered just inside the room.
The amchi was already in the house, and they saw that he was putting his herbs and small pots back into his bag. Patricia went quickly over to her father and looked at his foot.
‘What did the amchi say, Father? I can see that he’s put some more of that mixture on your foot, but not as much as before.’
‘I think we’ll have to wait for Kalden to tell us what the amchi thinks,’ the Major replied. ‘I gathered that he’s satisfied with my progress, but there were one or two things that I didn’t quite pick up.’
After a short conversation with the amchi, Kalden smiled at the Major and Patricia.
‘Amchi say foot much better, Major-le. The … ’ He held out both his hands to indicate size, gradually narrowing the space between his palms, and glanced at Patricia for help.
‘The swelling,’ she said. ‘The swelling’s gone down?’
‘Yes, that is so, Patricia-le. The swelling’s gone down. Must now move foot every day, Major-le, and soon you be able stand on foot. If foot hurt when you stand, then is not ready to be standing on, and must wait a day before you try to stand on foot again.’
‘Thank you, Kalden. I must say, I’m greatly impressed by your amchi. He’s achieved much in a very short amount of time. I shall take his advice and give myself a programme of exercises. Then in a couple of days, I shall try to stand on my foot. I’m sure that I’ll soon be able to walk short distances. I’m very much looking forward to resuming my exploration of the area, which I suspect will happen within the week.’
‘That’s wonderful, Father,’ Patricia said, and she forced a smile to her lips. ‘We can’t wait for you to be fit enough to join us again.’
Her eyes strayed to Kalden’s face and she saw the disappointment she felt mirrored in his eyes. A lump came to her throat and she swiftly bent over the table and made a fuss of straightening the blanket that was folded beneath her father’s foot. Kalden turned away to speak to Wangyal.
Wangyal would shortly be bringing them their meal, he told them when he’d finished talking to Wang
yal, and he asked if there was anything the Major wanted to discuss with Wangyal while they were all together. If not, both he and Wangyal would go back to their houses. Since the Major hadn’t any instructions to give and couldn’t think of anything he wanted to know, Kalden said goodnight to them both and started to follow Wangyal out of the house.
‘What time I come tomorrow, Patricia-le?’ he asked, pausing in the doorway.
‘You and I will be occupied in the morning, Patricia,’ the Major called after her as she went towards Kalden. ‘I’d like you to help me establish an exercise routine for my foot, if it’s no trouble. I’d be grateful if you confined tomorrow’s walk to the afternoon.’
‘Of course I will.’ She looked up at Kalden, who nodded his understanding. ‘Where shall we go then?’ she asked him. ‘We won’t have very long.’
‘I think of somewhere,’ he said, and he gave her a quick smile, turned and walked away.
Her eyes followed him until he was lost from sight. Her only thought was that she couldn’t wait for the following afternoon to arrive.
Chapter Thirteen
There was only about one area left to explore near the village, Kalden said when he arrived at the post house early the following afternoon, and he suggested that they go there as it would be perfect for their limited amount of time that day.
He told her that it was the small village that lay downstream, where the villagers drank the water from one of the streams that flowed past the fields outside Kalden’s village. The children from both villages played together. Sometimes they married each other, he added.
They’d go to the village, have a look round and then pick up a trail which would lead them in a wide arc around the back of his village. That way, they’d return home from a different direction. The walk wasn’t difficult and it wouldn’t take too long.
Not minding where they went, so long as they went there together, Patricia fell in with his suggestion, and they set off as soon as Wangyal had arrived to settle her father down for his afternoon rest.
She wasn’t surprised to see that the neighbouring village was very similar to Kalden’s village and that the people were equally warm and friendly. But unlike Kalden’s village, they weren’t used to her appearance, and everywhere they went children screamed with delight and chased around her, and the older villagers stopped what they were doing, beamed and shouted ‘Ju-le’, their eyes widening with astonishment as they looked at her jeans and unadorned neck and wrists.