Goddess of Fire

by Bharti Kirchner

  Worry twisted inside me. I couldn’t trust my eyes to see clearly. I held onto a branch of the tree.

  “This morning when the sun had been up for several hours and he still wasn’t up, I went to his bedchamber. Eyes shut, he was lying there. ‘Sahib, sahib,’ I called, and put a hand on his forehead. It was slightly hot. He woke up and said he’d be fine, just needed more rest. Still, I decided to come and get you. Sahira is taking care of him and the household in my absence.”

  “Did you call a doctor?”

  “No, the sahib asked me not to.”

  Typical Job. Never cared to see a doctor.

  “Has he ever asked for me?”

  “Oh, yes, the sahib talks about you constantly. I can tell how much he wishes you were with him. He hardly has any vitality left. I planned on visiting you sooner and persuading you to come back. How much I regret not doing that.”

  I heard Mary’s sweet voice behind us. “Where’s Papa?” she asked. “Mama, what’s wrong? When is Papa coming to visit us, Idris?”

  Idris opened his arms and Mary ran to him, throwing her slim arms around his neck.

  Rani Mata stepped forward to my side. She had obviously heard my conversation with Idris. She held my hands and we spent a few moments face-to-face in silence. “Anything you need,” she told me gently. “Anything at all, Maria. You have to go now, but remember that my doors will remain open for you.”

  Back at the house in Hooghly, I left Mary to play with Idris outside while I ascended the steps to the second floor and walked into our bedchamber. Job was asleep, his body covered with a white quilt; he looked pale and slightly emaciated. It was a shock to see my husband, a seaman, trade pioneer, adventurer, and leader, so frail and vulnerable. I did not disturb him. Walking past the desk, I saw the draft of a letter lying on it. It was written in Job’s familiar curly script on creamy official paper and dated almost two months ago. I picked it up. Job was responding to the Council’s order. The ink was dark, Job’s handwriting firm. I went downstairs with the letter.

  As I began to read it, I could hear Job’s voice filling the room.

  “In my years of service for the Company, I have come to love Hindustan and her people. Therefore, I must reject your ill-considered proposal of an English-only settlement and follow the dictates of my heart.”

  I clutched the letter to my breast, its message dizzying me even more as I read further. Job warned that he would remove his Factory from the Council’s jurisdiction and run it as a separate enterprise in order to erect a town that would include the native population as well, one that would eventually become a thriving commercial center. There, all could prosper from the new Factory’s trading activities.

  I read on. Even more stunning, Job had proposed that I become the Chief Advisor, sharing equal responsibilities with him, that this new position would have more authority than those of the other Factors. “Had I heeded her counsel, we might have avoided the disaster at Cossimbazar. She is the only one among us who understands the locals, their language, and their customs, and as such she is an asset to the Company.”

  This decision, this recommendation, Job had insisted, was final.

  Idris shuffled in. After taking a few moments to compose myself, I asked, “Did Job ever mention this letter?”

  “Yes. He worked on it for days, trying to get it right, then had it dispatched by courier. Arthur-sahib and I were the only ones with whom he shared it. The other Factors had no inkling. Shortly afterward, Arthur sahib left for Surat on an errand.” Idris paused, his voice thinning. “Job sahib’s eyes were filled with anxiety when he explained to me what he had proposed. It made him anxious to think about the Council’s reaction, what punishment they might impose on him, even the possibility of a bloody gruesome battle, should they send an armed contingent to crush his insubordination.”

  “I suppose that’s why he didn’t want me to be here?”

  “Exactly. But given that the Council hasn’t yet responded and the sahib is sick, I felt it was necessary to bring you back. I did it on my own, without the sahib’s knowledge. Did I do the right thing?”

  “Yes, I am very glad that you did. You are a wise and loyal man, Idris. With your help, I shall be able to nurse him back to health.”

  “It grieves me to say this, Maria, you were like a daughter to me, but I must now say goodbye. My duties here have ended. I am growing old and it is time I returned to my village, to spend more time with my family.” He smiled faintly. “Perhaps I shall even master the flute.”

  I put out a hand to stop him. “But Idris …”

  He shook his head slowly, but resolutely. “There was a time when I thought I’d relocate my family here and be able to see them more often, but then I decided against it. This town is big and prosperous, but there’s so much scheming for power, so much unhappiness, danger at every step. I have had my fill of it and will not expose my family to it. In my advancing age, if I am to have any peace of mind, I must …” His voice choked; he abruptly turned and walked out the door.

  Standing in a state of shock, I absorbed the silence about me. A bullock cart clattered by outside the window. I simply couldn’t imagine this place without Idris.

  I returned to our bed chamber and put the letter back on the side table. I was about to tiptoe out when Job called out. “Darling!” He was half-rising and propping himself up on the pillows. “You’re back!”

  “Yes, Idris fetched me from Rani Mata’s.” I drew close, sat on the edge of the bed, and noticed the sheen of perspiration on his forehead. His face held a bright light as he drew me close and kissed me. I tried to hide my concern, and asked him, in as level a voice as I could muster, about his health.

  “It’s only a low fever. I already feel much better.” He paused. “I can’t tell you how terribly I missed you and Mary. In the end, the pain in my heart made me ill. You’re my whole life.”

  “It broke my heart as well. I didn’t want to leave you, but you didn’t leave me any choice. Oh my love, my life, how I wished I had known the truth. So much suffering, so many sleepless nights. Might there have been another way?”

  “I didn’t want to drive you away, either. But I suppose you’ve read the letter and hopefully you will understand and forgive me. Those dangerous times, all I could think of was keeping you and Mary safe, even if it meant tearing my heart to pieces.”

  I nodded. Yes, I understood better now. He had only pretended to take a position opposed to my own. How hard we’d argued, voices rising, our words like spears, remarks meant to wound. By design, Job had worked to make me furious, so consumed with frustration that I’d walk out the door. Job Charnock. Ever the strategist, he had worked towards driving us away, far away from him, out of harm’s way should the Council decide to take action against him. He wanted to face the consequences alone. “How cleverly you assumed the role of an opponent,” I said to him, holding his hand. “How bravely, too.” We laughed together, drawing closer than ever in relief that the ordeal was over, at least temporarily.

  A day later, with Job feeling much better, we sat in the garden, beneath a neem tree. The day’s heat had subsided somewhat; a breeze rustled the leaves. Insects hummed, pigeons cooed, and a white heron flapped laboriously skyward. We discussed our life together, the events that had brought us close, those that had estranged us—from the time he had rescued me from a burning chita to the arrival of Anne memsahib in his life, to the time we got married, and then to the most recent episode in our lives.

  Gradually, our emotions spent, our thoughts and feelings expressed like never before, we went back to the most pressing matter at hand.

  Curious about his recommendation that I be appointed to the position of Chief Advisor, I asked, “Does that mean you take my work seriously?”

  “Much more than that. You’re my equal in every respect, darling. In fact, you’re better than me when it comes to figuring out those nuanced situations that we so often face. Would we even have a Hooghly Factory without you? I doubt
it. Back in Cossimbazar, you advised me against confronting the Nawab. I didn’t listen to you and I paid for it. I only wish I had told you all this earlier.”

  A kite fluttered up into the sky. I watched its ascent with pleasure. “If I ever have to override the wishes of the other Factors, will you support me?”

  “Rest assured, I will.”

  The Council hadn’t yet replied to Job’s letter. A frown formed on his forehead at the mention of this situation. I shuddered as I considered the potential consequences should the Council reject his idea. The Crown could ask the Council to dispatch a military force, arrest Job, burn our house down, execute both of us, and confiscate all our assets.

  “Your love makes me stronger,” Job said, his gaze fully on me. “I will stand my ground, however the Council replies.”

  “Please don’t ask me to leave again, my darling. I’ll share your destiny. Yes, I will. I’ll send Mary away to Rani Mata’s as soon as I sense any trouble coming to us, but we will face it together.”

  He nodded. I could see that he was ready to face whatever might come his way. He’d done that once before when he had rescued me from my first husband’s funeral pyre.

  A week passed. Once again, we were happy together. The mood was light and bright, the days full. Only occasionally would I be seized with worry.

  One morning, I hired a palanquin and took a solo trip back to Sutanati, to once again survey the land I so wished to acquire. As I got off the palanquin and lingered by a pond, a village woman whom I’d met on a previous visit approached me.

  “Mother Maria, we’ve been waiting for so long. Our people are thankful in advance for the work your Factory will offer them. Even our children are asking when they’ll be able to study with a teacher. We have never had much to look forward to; our days are but one long grind. You’re our only light.”

  Looking into her hope-filled eyes, I stayed silent for a moment. Then I assured her that somehow, with Job’s help, I would strive to make that dream a reality, no matter what it cost. I reached out and squeezed her hand.

  While my mind leapt ahead with the plans for this settlement, doubts about financing such a massive project crept in, as well.

  A few days later, the Factors gathered in our house. Although I’d officially resigned from the Company prior to fleeing to Rani Mata’s, they asked me to rejoin them. Job, back to his vigorous self, presided over the meeting.

  A knock on the door and Arthur appeared, carrying a rolled-up document. He’d just returned from a journey to meet with the Council in Surat. Everybody in the room was quiet, anxious. Despite the lines of fatigue on his face and the dirt and grime on his clothes, Arthur looked animated. He took a seat, placed the document on his lap, and gave me a faint smile.

  “How happy I am to return.” He looked around the room, and then his gaze settled back on me. “And how happy I am to make this announcement. We missed not having you among us, Maria. Our Factory, let me just say it wasn’t being managed as well as it might have been. We didn’t know where you’d disappeared, and Job didn’t feel well enough to handle his duties. The best I could do was to take a trip west, appear before the Council in person, and seek their advice.”

  “Such a strenuous journey!” I replied breathlessly. “What result did it yield?”

  “The best possible. Let me break the news to all of you.”

  Arthur unrolled the document.

  “I went before the Council and asked them what they would do to get our Factory back on its feet. I also argued your case. It took some time, but they heard me out, and threw away your letter of resignation. Allow me to read a few sentences from this document which they’ve signed and asked me to present to you and the rest of the Factors.

  ‘Maria Charnock is hereby officially appointed the Chief Advisor of the Hooghly Factory. In that capacity she will work closely with Job Charnock, the Chief Factor, and be second in command. We have reconsidered our earlier decision. In expanding the territory of our Company, we see benefit for us and that of the people living in the trio of villages located near Hooghly.’

  They ordered me to find you, Maria, and return you to our Factory. Their change of heart seems to have something to do with the Dutch and their plans for expansion, but now the Council wants to proceed with your vision, and that’s what’s important.”

  In the pause that followed, the Factors began to whisper among themselves. “Seniority,” said William, “what happened to seniority?”

  “The Council hopes all of you will accept Maria’s authority,” Arthur said to the agents present, “or else consider seeking other employment.”

  The Factors rose and went across to the window, whispering and complaining among themselves. A short time later, they returned to their seats and said in unison, “We agree.”

  Only Francis picked up his belongings and strode out the door. I smiled to myself at his departure. I stared at the harsh sunlight streaming through the window. I had no illusions about the Company’s long term vision: expansion and an eventual takeover of our land. Still, it thrilled me, for they needed my services, and I wouldn’t deny that I needed them as well to advance my own personal interests and those of my people.

  My eyes roamed the room. I saw doubt etched in some faces.They didn’t fully trust me; nor did I fully trust them. It would be important to have allies in the dangerous game I was playing. I imagined myself in the future, sitting across from Rani Mata, spending long hours discussing my strategies with her.

  Job fixed me with a tender gaze. I could sense the love and support he would provide to fulfil my dream of establishing an open city. That city, after all, would be his loving gift to Mary and me, as well as to the people of Hindustan, a precious gift from a generous heart.

  My reverie was cut short as I heard Job speak. “Now that the organizational structure is in place, we have trading to be done, the Dutch to deal with, and …” He turned toward me.

  “And, gentlemen, we have a city to build,” I said. “A town named Kalikata, a place where all are welcome.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear Reader,

  Allow me to share with you the story of how this book came about.

  Ever since my childhood days in Kolkata, when I studied its history in the classroom, I’ve been fascinated by the city’s intriguing past. In particular, I yearned to learn more about Job Charnock, a faithful servant of the English East India Company in its early days, who was believed to have founded Kolkata (then known as Calcutta). Eventually, I immigrated to the States for graduate study, but I returned to Kolkata often on family visits and discovered that my childhood yearning was still very much alive.

  I noted with great interest that the late 17th and the early 18th century was a time of great upheaval in India, with Calcutta at the epicenter. It was a period that afforded a preview of the bloody British occupation that would follow. The more I researched and learned about this period and about Calcutta, the First City of the British Empire, the more I dreamed of writing about it, especially how it was founded.

  My research soon led me to the controversy that has in recent times surrounded Job Charnock. Did he really establish the foundation for Calcutta? Or did the credit belong to local Indians? With that as the starting premise of my novel, I asked myself the following question: What if Charnock and his Indian wife had jointly founded Calcutta?

  His wife’s life was never recorded in detail. All that is known for sure is that she was a village girl who was being forced to self-immolate on her husband’s funeral pyre when Charnock appeared and rescued her. This historical vacuum provided ample leeway to give my imagination full reign. So I created Moorti, later to be known as Maria, a spirited woman equal to her husband in ambition, ability, and vision.

  Although I have tried to stay true to historical facts wherever I could, Moorti is entirely a product of my imagination. So is Job Charnock, for the most part. Not only have I compressed the details of his life for readability, but have also fictional
ized his personality and actions. However, there are a few exceptions. I’ve stayed true to one of Charnock’s character traits noted by many historians, his loyalty to the English East India Company. I’ve also shown his interest in the Indians and their culture, unusual at the time, a point on which historians generally agree.

  And finally, I haven’t concerned myself only with kings, queens, and the high-born. I have tried to show how common people also lived, laughed, suffered, and even managed to thrive.

  I thank you, dear reader, for taking part in this long historic journey with me.

  Ever yours,

  Bharti Kirchner

  USA

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I deeply appreciate the support of friends who have stood by me during the long years it took to write this novel. Their names (in no particular order) are: Margaret Donsbach, Ann Slater, Gail Kretchmer, Jo Ann Heydron, Barbara McHugh, Jean Akin, and Christine Z. Mason. I may have forgotten a name or two. You know who you are.

  On the publishing side, I am fortunate to have the excellent guidance and brilliant vision of Priya Doraswamy, my literary agent, Sucharita Dutta-Asane, editor, the Severn House team, Bidisha Srivastava, editor, HarperCollins India, and Amrita Chowdhury, publisher, MIRA. I have enjoyed our collaborative effort.

  Thanks to Deepa Banerjee, librarian. Much of the research was done at the Suzzallo Library, University of Washington.

  Notable among the countless volumes I browsed there are: Charnock and His Lady Fair by Pratap Chandra Chunder; Trader’s Dream: The Romance of East India Company by R.H. Mottrom; Aspects of Indian Culture and Society by Nirmal Kumar Bose; Marriage, Religion and Society by Giri Raj Gupta; Travelers’ India by H.K. Kaul; Maharaja: The Splendor of India’s Royal Court by Anna Jackson, and The Romance of an Eastern Capital by F.B. Bradley.

  I am grateful to the following organizations for their partial support of this project: Artist Trust, City Artist’s Project Award, and 4Culture.