Ravi the Unknown Prince

by Rookmin Cassim

  I said to uncle that he was Ismael’s nephew and he drove us down to Georgetown.

  Uncle told the waiter to bring him in, when he arrived after a brief introduction, uncle told him to sit down and he joined us.

  Then he told me that Muna was getting worried. I did not telephone her last night and I told him that I fell asleep watching the TV, but I would do that as soon as I got upstairs.

  I asked him about his aunt Maymun, he said that she was coping during the day but in the evening she gets tearful and that they were all waiting to hear from me.

  After we finished our meal and left the dining area, we all went and sat in the lobby.

  Uncle asked Imran what he did for a living and whether business was good and told him to buy another seven seat cruiser and get some-one to drive it.

  Imran told him that he couldn’t afford it as he had three children to send to school.

  Before he left us I told him to come and have lunch with us the following day and that I would be sending Husain back with him.

  I would be going with my uncle to see where he was living and to meet with some of his people.

  We all went outside with Imran and uncle asked him who maintained his vehicle.

  He said that he was a mechanic by trade and did his own vehicle and helped other people in the village when he had some spare time.

  After Imran had gone uncle told me that he would see me and Husain at around 6 o’clock in the lobby and that we were going to Edwin’s house first and then on to a restaurant, and that he was going to have a rest in his room.

  Then I went upstairs to telephone Muna and had to apologise to her. We talked for an hour and then I took a nap.

  That evening, we left the hotel after six o’clock for Edwin de Silva’s residence which was outside the capital.

  It was a large detached house with a good sized garden of colourful plants. He opened the door and took us to a room that was beautifully decorated.

  There were comfortable sofas and rocking chairs, polished floors with scattered rugs and a piano that stood in one corner of the room.

  On the walls were pictures of tropical sceneries and one with Edwin and Ruby in swim wear sitting on a white sandy beach on a tropical Island with coconut trees hanging over the blue ocean.

  While I was admiring all that rich living, an East Indian woman appeared in the door-way carrying a tray of tea and a glass of fruit juice.

  She placed the tray on a table in the far corner of the room and then she began serving us with a fixed smile on her face.

  Then Ruby came in and shook uncle’s hand and sat next to him chatting, while Edwin sat with the rest of us and talked about his two sons and one daughter.

  The two teenaged boys and the girl about ten years old made their entrance as we were about to leave.

  The boys looked more like their father with a reddish complexion and wavy hair.

  The girl was more Asian looking, slim and stunningly beautiful. She asked Husain if he was an Arab and that she had never seen one before she only read about them in books.

  He replied, “I am an Arab by birth, but both my parents are from the West Coast.”

  She asked him for a photograph to show her school friends that she had met an Arab boy from Kuwait.

  Husain told her that he would send her a few dressed as an Arab when he got back home and he took her address.

  The boys were asking whether I could leave Husain behind to have supper with them and to teach them how to play chess.

  We left around eight o’clock for the restaurant; Ruby decided to stay behind with the children as there were only men in our group.

  We had beef for supper which came from uncle’s cattle ranch and he was the main supplier to a number of restaurants in the city and on the main-land.

  We took our time eating and talking about various political and social issues facing the country.

  It was late when we got back to the hotel and I decided to telephone Muna, someone answered the telephone and went to get her out of bed.

  “Were you asleep?” I asked.

  “Do you know what time is it?” she questioned.

  “No, but I know you are going to tell me,” I answered.

  “It is 2.30 in the morning and you were out all night,” she enquired.

  “I just got in and wanted to hear your voice,” I replied. Husain is returning tomorrow and I would see you later in the week I am going with my uncle to see his ranch.”

  She kept quiet and then I asked her what she would like me to bring back for her.

  She told me to come back soon for us to return home to Kuwait. I had to reassure her that I would try my best to get back as soon as possible.

  It was the first time that Muna and I had been apart from each other and she was finding it difficult to cope without me around.

  Next morning Husain and I had room service at breakfast time, as we sat down to eat I asked him about his chess game the previous night.

  He told me that he was teaching Ruby’s two sons how to play the game after they had beef stew for supper, and that uncle Alam brought them beef once every month from uncle’s ranch and he would collect supplies from town to take back home.

  I told Husain that when he got back to the West Coast to tell Muna to open up our house and they could stay there until I returned.

  She could get her mother to come over and stay with her and if any of Harun’s children wanted to stay they were welcome.

  I was considering bringing my uncle to see the place and if she could get some-one to tidy up the garden.

  At lunch time that day we all had our lunch in the dining room with Imran and then I sent Husain off with his bag and a few gifts Ruby had bought him.

  I gave him a hug as we parted and told him to look after his mum until I returned.

  He said, “Dad, please be careful and look after yourself.”

  I reassured him that I would be alright and he should not be worried. I was very close with my two sons and I wanted to be a good father, even though I grew up without one.

  After we checked out at the hotel a taxi took us to an airstrip out-side the capital where there were other light air crafts to one side of a run-way.

  Alam walked across to one plane with red wings and “Desert Queen” written in black at the right rear.

  He started loading the bags and I gave him a hand to finish the loading while uncle climbed on board and sat in the passenger seat at the front.

  Then I got in at the back and strapped in. Alam took the control and in no time we were up in the air.

  About fifteen minutes into our journey Alam said, “Cousin Hasan if you look to your right that place is Mackenzie District; a rich Bauxite mining town.”

  “I have a school friend living and working out there,” I remarked.

  “I can take you to see him,” he replied.

  “I do not know his address, cousin Alam,” I answered.

  “It is easy, cousin. If he works for the Company then they should have his name and address on their books,” he said.

  Uncle then asked Alam if there was a landing strip for light air craft in the region.

  Alam told him that he went there once for some spare parts for the Desert Queen and that they had two landing strips for light planes.

  As we were approaching our destination uncle told Alam to circle the top half of the savannah for me to look at the cattle in the pasture.

  Alam took the plane slightly lower and made a few turns and beneath me I could see thousands of black and white as well as brown and white cattle grazing in the lush green valley and meadow below.

  Then uncle told Alam to take us home. The plane went up again and then we were slowly descending.

  As we came in to land I noticed a large white building on a hill top with roads leading up to this huge mansion.

  When we landed a land rover was waiting for us, the chauffeur a short brown-skinned East Indian man was standing by the bonnet with his arms fold
ed and he was smiling.

  He came forward and greeted us in broken English and opened the door and helped uncle out.

  Alam got out and opened my door and then uncle introduced me to chauffeur Najib, he smiled as he shook my hand and said, “Welcome sir to Manaos Kingdom”

  I thought for a moment that I was in a foreign country but I was in the same country but thousands of miles away from the West Coast where I grew up.

  Uncle held my upper arm and we both walked to the parked rover. I was beginning to think that he was not in the best of health and he looked jaundice close up.

  I was not going to ask him any questions until he told me himself and his reasons for tracking me down.

  He told me that he would sit with me at the back. When Najib opened the door I let him get in first and then I got in besides him.

  Alam and the driver were unloading the plane and putting the bags into the boot of the Rover.

  While we were waiting for them to finish uncle told me that the house up ahead was where he lived.

  “How many years have you lived there uncle?” I asked.

  “Too long,” he answered, “My wife died ten years ago. She was a good woman and I miss her a lot,” he remarked.

  I could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke about her. He told me that she was too old to have children so they adopted two boys which made her happy.

  “You have met one, he said, “and the other one lives and works in Canada.

  After she passed away a year later I started looking for you, my blood relation.”

  By then the men had finished the loading and we were ready to leave, Alam sat in front with the chauffeur and they were talking about county cricket matches.

  ARRIVING AT SUNSET PALACE

  In fifteen minutes we arrived outside this large white mansion which had “SUNSET PALACE” written in golden letters.

  A man opened the wooden front door and stood back; he greeted uncle and me as we walked in, and we return his greetings.

  I thought first impression counts and if I was destined to live here one day I should show these people some respect even if I became the next master.

  Five women and two men stood in a line. I thought that I had just entered into a stately home in England that I had once seen on TV.

  The five women and two men were saying “Welcome home, Master,” then uncle introduced me to his staff.

  The two men were gardeners, and the one man that opened the door took care of uncle and served the male visitors.

  I shook hands with the men and told them that I was pleased to meet them.

  Then the women introduced themselves; there were two cooks and two cleaners and one house-keeper.

  They were all middle-aged East Indian people, and then the house-keeper asked uncle whether I was married and had children or was still single.

  Uncle laughed, and told her that I was married and that he had met one of my two sons and that he was a chess player.

  The interior of the mansion with its lofty ceilings and intricate design was immaculate and well maintained.

  Uncle took me around each room on the ground floor; there were paintings hanging on the walls in each room we went into, all done by his late wife Shereen.

  Some rooms had forests, with snow capped mountains, while others had hills and valleys, beaches and waterfalls.

  We went into a large open-planned sitting area facing south which had two sets of brown and gold sofas, a set of rocking chairs and foot stools with fragrant potted plants and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

  He told me that room was his and his wife’s favourite place to relax. They would sit together and look out into the wide open space and at the lake at the far end of the garden.

  Then he took me into the dining area where there was a large long dining table with carved legs and matching chairs with padded seats.

  We entered next into a games room for men and boys with train sets, skittles, a table tennis table and a dart-board on the wall.

  The fourth was his prayer room with religious books in a cabinet and prayer mats on the floor with some spares folded and placed in one corner of the room.

  Adjoining to that room was where he performed his ablutions before praying.

  The four taps on the wall was stainless steel and there were seats to sit down on while performing ablutions, hot and cold running water and clean towels were readily available.

  The fifth and sixth rooms were used for his office and office staff; he had an accountant, a secretary, and two other office workers. The office was left neat and tidy but no one was there.

  Uncle told me that he would let me meet his office workers at a later date as he wanted to keep them in suspense for the time being.

  A long corridor ran in the middle which divided the mansion into two sections, the other half was for the women with the same amount of rooms.

  There was a nursery for the younger children and a keep-fit room for the women.

  There were two sets of shower rooms and toilet facilities on both the male and female sections.

  Further at the back was a large kitchen area with a wood burning oven to bake bread and cakes.

  Water was extracted from a well underground about half a mile away and was piped into the mansion.

  After I had seen the ground floor of this magnificent building uncle took me back to the male section and on to the veranda over looking the village.

  There were two sets of rocking chairs with padded seats and foot stools.

  As we sat down he told me that he went to Canada to take his son Nazir, another adopted orphan; to study medicine and he brought back this design for his house and had a few extra rooms added to it.

  He thought that his son would return home once he was qualified but he decided to live and work out there.

  He qualified as a doctor and he married to a Pakistani woman and they had three children.

  “This place is fit for a Prince, don’t you think so,” he remarked.

  I did not want to make any comments so I replied, “Yes, uncle.”

  Tea was brought in with freshly baked cakes and the gentleman Habib served us and left.

  While we were drinking our cup of red rose brand tea uncle Hanif told me that we were the direct descendant of Princess Razia.

  “You are a Prince my son, he said and so am I, but we are unknown to the outside world. Sometimes it is better that way.”

  “I was told that her name was Sita,” I said to uncle Hanif.

  “Grand-dad gave her that name when he married her, in those days Hindus and Muslims did not inter-marry it was a taboo.

  She never practiced Hinduism or bow down in front of an idol, she prayed silently in her tiny room.”

  “My parents worshipped many gods,” I remarked.

  “Your father Arjuna followed our father and he followed his father who was from the Brahman Caste.”

  “What was her reason for coming here? I questioned, and have you any idea why she left India a life of luxury for a life of misery.”

  “We were told that she escaped after her husband, the Maharaja [king] was defeated in a battle.

  He was killed with her son, Prince Jalal and they were about to lose their Kingdom, the wives of the king and his children would be taken as prisoners of war by the next ruler.

  She managed to escape as a civilian; she swapped her clothes with her maid and then they went to Calcutta.

  She and the maid embarked on a ship that was taking people to other parts of the world.

  On the long voyage across many oceans her maid died, she told her daughter Shuli my aunt that when Kamla died she wanted to die also.

  Kamla was not only her maid she was her adviser and confidant, the king had many wives and they all competed for his attention.

  “How does the king remember the names of all his wives and children?” I questioned inquisitively.

  Uncle Hanif laughed,”He gave each woman a number and the children were k
nown to him by their mother’s number.”

  “Have you any idea how many wives the king had?” I enquired.

  Shuli said, that her mother told her that there were fifteen wives and hundreds of concubines.

  If she had not escaped she would have ended up as a concubine for the next ruler or one of his men.

  She was happy with grand-dad even though they lived in a logy; she knew that every day after work he was coming home to her.

  She was a very beautiful woman from Iranian and Afghanistan descent.

  “She said that she was one of the king’s favourite wives whenever the king would have a song and dance party with women dressed in scanty clothing.

  He would invite her and put her to sit on his right and the other wives would sit behind.

  When she heard that he and her son were killed she knew that the men would be looking for her.

  She wore an old sari and hurried out through the gates during the chaos before the soldiers entered the palace and took the women and children as captives.

  She told her children that she never regretted leaving her place in the palace, she felt free like a bird when she escaped.

  Although life was hard and she and grand-dad struggled she was happy and felt contented.”

  “Have you ever met her in person uncle?” I asked.

  “I was between six or seven years old when she became very ill and my dad took me and your father, Arjuna who was four year old, to see her.

  She had green eyes and the colour of her hair was similar to your son Husain but had gone white. She remained beautiful to the end.

  I am now seventy eight years old, Hasan, he said, and I am not in the best of health.

  I only have a few more years to live and that was the reason I was searching for you, my own flesh and blood, to inherit all of this.”

  “What is wrong with you uncle?” I questioned.

  “I have a brain tumour and it is too dangerous to operate on it. For the past five years every six months I went to Canada for treatment, but there is no hope now,” he remarked sadly.

  I felt sad and picked up his hand and held it in mine and said,”I am so sorry to hear such bad news and we only just met.”

  Alam walked in and sat down holding a cup of tea in his hand and spoke as he looked at me with tears in my eyes.