He interrupted. ‘You wondered if Chatur was behind it. That’s what you think?’
‘I thought it was just a prank, but could it really be more serious?’
His eyes darkened and he looked very thoughtful, then he muttered, ‘The man is a menace but my brother does not see it. Chatur will stop at nothing. I’ve warned Anish.’
‘But stop at nothing to do what?’
‘To maintain control of my brother and his own power.’
She sighed. This really wasn’t something to concern her.
Jay started the motorcycle up again and they continued on for a while, neither attempting to speak until he pulled up where a shroud of dust lay over a village of baked mud houses. Glad to stretch her legs, Eliza got out and gazed around her. The houses almost seemed as if they had risen from the earth like a tree or a bush might have done, and the simple beauty of the soft lines of the buildings drew her photographer’s eye. This time she would only use her Rolleiflex.
‘The garh, or fort, is the ancestral home of the landowner of the area,’ Jay was saying. ‘We will meet him first.’
‘The locals too?’
‘Yes, yes, but we must introduce ourselves to the Thakur first. He has an interest in art, and is something of an artist himself. He is the nobleman who took Indi under his wing. We have much to be thankful for.’
As they strolled through the village Eliza smiled as she watched the harmonious mix of craftspeople plying their trade, women walking like queens as they fetched water from the well, children running and shouting in the streets, and even animals grazing. Sleeping dogs lay everywhere and everyone they passed seemed friendly. Despite Jay’s personal remarks earlier she felt a wave of gratitude that he’d brought her here, and followed as he walked through the village with easy long-legged strides.
‘The family belongs to the same clan as we do,’ Jay said. ‘And my brother Anish is chief of the clan. See, there’s the fort.’
Eliza gazed at a golden fort, small but very pretty, and as they entered through a stone archway they were guided to an interior garden where the Thakur was painting at an easel. He was another of these tall dignified men Eliza was becoming used to meeting, except this man had grey in his moustache and was clearly much older than Jay. He rose from his seat, wiped his hands with a cloth and came towards them, arms outstretched.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ he was saying. ‘Jayant. Wonderful to see you and your lovely companion. What can I get you?’
‘A cool drink for both of us,’ Jay said. ‘All right with you, Eliza?’
She nodded and put her palms together in the usual way of welcome.
‘So, please, take a seat, both of you.’
As they made themselves comfortable he carried on talking. ‘This place was built some two hundred years ago, granted by the Maharajah for my ancestor’s bravery. In return for the estate, he had to maintain eight horses for the Maharajah’s cavalry and was expected to take part in any battles. Luckily that no longer applies to me.’
She smiled. ‘I’m hoping to take photographs of the villagers. Will they be happy for me to do so?’
‘No problem at all. I believe photography will be the new art.’
‘I hope it won’t replace painting but will live alongside it,’ she said.
‘Indeed. Jayant here tells me you speak our language.’
‘A little.’
‘She’s being modest.’
‘And how is Indira?’ the Thakur asked Jay. He was smiling but his eyes looked tense. ‘She rarely visits.’
‘I know you understand why.’
The man’s face fell. ‘Yes indeed, though I miss her sunny presence, but let us not dwell on the past.’
Eliza longed to hear more, but something about the look on both men’s faces stopped her asking. When they all got to their feet, Jay and the Thakur stepped away for a moment and Eliza couldn’t hear what was said.
Then the Thakur led the way out of the fort. ‘This place was once surrounded by mud walls. My grandfather built these stone walls but most of the garh stands as it originally was. The gate was enlarged so that a man sitting in a howdah on the back of an elephant could pass through.’
‘It’s very splendid,’ Eliza said.
He nodded. ‘Before you take photographs would you like to meet Indira’s grandmother?’
‘I’d love to.’
‘I’ll take you there and then leave you to it.’
Once into the village, they came to a halt outside a simple hut with a small courtyard and one scrawny rose bush. The Thakur called and a fierce-looking older woman with greying hair stepped out as if expecting them. She pulled her scarf over her hair and did not smile.
‘She doesn’t speak English. Will you understand enough?’ Jay said.
‘I’ll let you know if I can’t.’
Eliza concentrated as Jay and the Thakur spoke to the woman. She mainly wanted to know that Indira was well and happy and seemed pleased with their replies, visibly relaxing. But when Eliza heard her own name mentioned, the woman stared at her fixedly and asked Jay to repeat what he’d said.
‘Eliza Fraser,’ he said.
The woman’s face closed up and she quickly took a few steps back, then as suddenly as she had appeared she had gone again and the entire exchange was over. Jay and the Thakur exchanged glances.
‘What was that about?’ she asked, standing awkwardly and struggling to know how to feel.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing that need concern you,’ Jay said.
She accepted what he’d said with no comment, but felt there had to be more to it. The Thakur stepped in to smooth things over. ‘Let me tell you about the revenues. They come from the land as they have always done. The farmers cultivate the fields for me and in return receive a part of the harvest. The shepherds are allowed to let their animals graze on the land in return for a share of their herd.’
‘My friend Devdan would have something to say about that,’ Jay said with a smile.
The Thakur raised his hands in an attitude of alarm. ‘Remember I’ve met your friend. He’s a revolutionary, is he not? Dangerous sort of a chap. A badmash.’
‘He’s not a bad character really. Just full of talk.’
‘Well, I’d keep a careful watch on him. But now I must take my leave. Lovely to meet you, Miss Fraser.’ And with that he again took Jay aside for a few private words.
Afterwards Jay and Eliza walked around the further reaches of the village. He was quieter than before and Eliza didn’t know why, though she couldn’t help but think it was something to do with her, and with that thought a prickle of alarm raised the hairs on the back of her neck. But because she had her hands full – a roll of film only allowed for six photographs, so Eliza kept having to duck into dark places to change the roll beneath a dark bag – she didn’t ask what was wrong. Then, as they went deeper into the narrow alleyways and she saw the rudimentary ways in which the people lived in this barren place, she felt shock at the extreme poverty. How could it be right for the castle to become so wealthy while these people languished in utter penury? In these alleys some of the children were completely naked, and she could only just avoid walking in the stream of filthy water that ran in a ditch in the middle of the path. Here the people were thinner, with misery etched into the lines of their faces, and when she saw the difference between this part of the village and the other she fell rather quiet. There was nothing romantic about it, but she took photographs of it all: the poor, the lost and the seemingly forgotten. And it entered her head that by recording the plight of the poor she might be able to find a way to give voice to the voiceless.
As she climbed back into the sidecar, Jay asked if she’d like to go to a bazaar a few miles away where she’d be able to buy fabric printed with hand-carved wooden printing blocks. He had a bit of business to see to as well.
‘It’s a remote, little-visited place. For authentic Rajputana you can’t do better.’
It was a friendly suggestion,
though Jay’s voice was solemn and there was a sharpness to it she hadn’t noticed before. As he drove along the bumpiest road yet, Eliza thought about Indi’s grandmother and decided to ask Jay to tell her more about Indi.
Jay pulled up the motorcycle for a moment, as if deciding on the way ahead.
‘You said something earlier about the old ways having gone underground and you mentioned Indi. What was the connection?’ She hoped he might be ready to say more now.
He sighed deeply. ‘You must have noticed Indi is different. She is a little lighter-skinned than the rest of us and doesn’t know who her father was. Added to that, her mother deserted her. Although she comes from a long line of Rajput warriors, on her mother’s side that is, she suffers the disgrace of her lost parents. Blood ties are everything to us.’
‘The poor girl,’ she said, knowing it had been bad enough growing up without a father. Being without a father and a mother must have left Indi feeling terribly adrift, and the sense of isolation must have been awful. Hardly any wonder if the girl had become emotionally attached to Jay.
They had grown quiet, and when she glanced across at Jay he turned to look at her briefly.
‘What?’ he said.
‘Are you so blind you don’t realize she’s in love with you?’
He looked blank, then drew his brows together and spoke almost as if she wasn’t there. ‘Nonsense. She’s like a sister to me.’
Eliza made a gentle snorting sound.
There was a prickly silence for a moment.
‘The Thakur’s interest set her apart from the other villagers, and if it wasn’t for his and her grandmother’s protection, she would have been marked out as a dakan.’
‘And that is?’
He gave her a look as if he was judging her reaction.
‘A woman suspected of witchcraft.’
‘In this day and age?’
He nodded slowly. ‘When another woman thought to be a dakan was found dead with an axe in her back, Indi’s grandmother acted quickly and sent Indi to the castle along with the original miniature, plus some pictures of her own. Indi told Laxmi she no longer had a safe home and, out of obligation to the grandmother, my mother had to take her in. They get rid of witches with an axe in the back.’
Eliza felt a shiver of alarm. ‘You mean they might have killed her too? That’s what you meant when you said you worried about what might have happened to her.’
‘Indi is talented, and very beautiful. Other women would have been jealous.’
Remembering Indi’s looks, Eliza could understand why.
‘So what happened when she came to the castle?’
‘She started off as a handmaiden, but when her talent became fully known my mother gave her the task of painting each member of the royal household. She became my mother’s eyes and ears. Remember Laxmi was Maharani then. I don’t exactly know how, but Indi continues to have an ear for all the castle intrigue, gossip and plotting.’
‘I imagine Laxmi was a wonderful queen.’
‘She was. And a wonderful mother … though sometimes a bit too wonderful.’
The last part of his sentence had almost been an aside, and Eliza couldn’t help comparing Laxmi, who almost certainly lived for her children, with Anna’s lack of interest. So far Eliza had given little thought to motherhood and had scant regard for it.
Jay looked distracted for a moment, glancing at both possible tracks ahead, then picked up on Eliza’s previous comment. ‘Though of course the British disallowed the use of the words king and queen. A chief was what my father had to become. We were also banned from wearing crowns. They were the preserve of British royalty.’
Eliza grimaced. ‘Honestly, that’s almost funny, but I do feel a little guilty.’
He gave her a candid look. ‘Don’t. There’s plenty of wrong on our side too. Had a son of my mother’s not succeeded the throne, as a widow she would not be enjoying the high status she does.’
‘I see.’
‘We’d better get on.’ He got back on the motorcycle. ‘This way, I think.’
After a few more miles he cut the engine and they came to a halt. ‘Please stay close,’ he said, as they left the bike against a tree. He gave the appearance of walking nonchalantly but Eliza could tell something was up from the stiffness of his shoulders and the tight expression on his face. He found a local man and they spoke rapidly, Jay raising his voice but the man simply shaking his head.
Eliza heard a strange strangled bleating sound and, glancing down a side alley, saw a live goat hanging by the back feet. She shuddered as a village man drew a sword and with one strike decapitated the creature.
Jay turned to her. ‘Quick, back into the sidecar.’
‘But I just saw a –’
‘Don’t talk now, we have to hurry.’ He put a hand on her back and almost pushed her.
‘What’s happening?’
As he started the bike up he turned towards her, a look of extreme anguish on his face. ‘I told you the old customs had gone underground.’
‘Yes.’
‘Something terrible is about to happen.’
9
As Jay rode furiously along an increasingly rocky dirt track, Eliza gripped her seat. Fear locked itself behind her ribs. The not knowing made things worse and up until now she had not seen him look so worried. She sensed he lived within a world beyond her sight, an inner, protected realm – and, just like the Rajput kingdom she might never fully understand, there were layers within layers to this man. Hidden beneath the rituals and customs of his life lay something important, something that glued it all together. She wondered what it was and decided to make it her business to learn more about the Hindu gods. It might help her understand these people better, but for now this was nothing mystical or strange, merely the private workings of another human being who, at this moment, was excluding her.
‘So tell me, please,’ she shouted. ‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s a widow-burning. The Thakur had heard a rumour that there might be one tomorrow, but Indira’s grandmother told me to come to the village we’ve just left and that’s when I found out it is today.’
‘Oh, dear God. But I thought you said suttee is illegal? We must stop it.’
‘That’s what I’m intending to do. It is illegal but that doesn’t mean it is at an end. The people know the British will be reluctant to intervene if they choose remote locations.’
The sun, now directly overhead, beat down on a bleached landscape that had turned menacing in its emptiness. On the brink of tears, Eliza wished herself anywhere but there.
‘Look, Eliza,’ Jay was saying, ‘I warned you the old rituals had gone underground. This is what we’re up against.’
‘But burning a woman alive!’
‘Nothing changes overnight.’
As Jay rode on in silence Eliza gazed out at the stark beauty of the fringes of the desert, feeling sick inside. Then, a little later, the sound of drums alerted them to the fact that they were drawing closer.
As Jay climbed down, Eliza made a move too.
‘No, stay. We may already be too late.’
‘I’m coming.’
He paused for a fraction of a second only. ‘Very well, but we’ll have to run.’
Though December was considered the Rajputana winter, it could still become hotter than an English summer. This day was no exception, and Eliza’s forehead was already beading with sweat.
‘Cover your head with your scarf and as much of your face as you can.’
As they neared the gathering, the sound of the drums and a kind of chanting took over.
‘What’s happening now?’
He paused and stood still for a moment. ‘See over there behind that building, by the scant river bed?’
Eliza twisted to see a large group of people partly obscured from view.
‘I need to skirt around, but I want you to stay back here. There’s nothing you can do, but if I tell them who I am I might be able t
o stop this.’
This time Eliza did hold back and she waited, at least for a short while; but after a few minutes, when Jay had disappeared from view and the chanting hadn’t stopped, she began to shiver. She ran after him until she reached a spot just past the building, where she knew at once that the drumming had been an invocation of death.
At first she saw Jay shaking his head and, with voice raised, arguing with a group of men. Eliza couldn’t see the girl but about twenty yards away a priest, standing beside the funeral pyre, was swinging a large object filled with incense. Another was ringing a bell that was audible even above the drumming, while two other men poured oil from earthenware jugs on to hardwood logs. When another man lit a torch, then touched it to the prepared wood, small flames struck out at the air instantly and then died down. When she heard a terrible high-pitched keening she finally saw the girl being dragged forward.
Eliza took a step forward and shouted, but no one even glanced her way. All eyes were on the slight figure being hauled on to the pyre. Everything seemed to go still, and Eliza was horrified that although the girl’s hands were tied together, for a moment it seemed as if she had accepted her fate. But then everything changed, as Jay turned his back on the men and raced towards the girl, where, pushing and fighting his way, he broke through the cordon of men.
From a low crackle and spit, suddenly the fire was fully ablaze. Eliza’s heart almost stopped as Jay caught hold of the girl’s hands and began pulling her away from the flames. Seconds passed and Eliza smelt the girl’s fear in her own nostrils, felt the terror on her own shivering skin. Jay struggled to drag the girl away and for a moment it looked as if he might be burned to death as well, but then three men grabbed hold of him and pulled him off the girl. He fought to escape their grip and launch himself at her again, but they held him tight. Now the flames sprang up around the edges, enclosing the girl in the centre, from where she was still trying to break through. She screamed repeatedly as a larger group of men and one older woman surrounded the pyre, again pushing her back, but this time with long sticks, on to a supine body wrapped in white.
And yet the girl managed to whip round and run to one side, where the flames were weakest. A man raised his sword to strike her so she was forced to shrink back into the flames. Beyond her a huge crowd stood silently watching. Eliza longed to run over to the fire and drag the girl away, but then Jay broke free and once again attempted to reach the girl. He was too late, as in that instant yellow flames licked at the young woman’s feet; her skirt caught alight, then her scarf and finally her hair, the colour so bright and sharp Eliza could barely look. As an inferno engulfed the girl, Eliza couldn’t see Jay but the screaming continued, sounding more and more desperate.
Before the Rains Page 9