A Sahib's Daughter

by Harkness, Nina

  “Very true,” he agreed. The servant wheeled in a tea trolley laden with cakes and sandwiches. “Prava, will you be mother?”

  Once they were settled with cups of tea and plates of food, he said, “Ladies, I have some good news for you, nothing conclusive as yet, I’m afraid, but you can, at least, stay in the house for a further three months. My aunt can’t move in till November.”

  “That is good news,” said Prava. “Thank you so much. That gives me a little more time to find something. And it’s always easier to find places in the wintertime.”

  It confirmed her belief that things were not to be “over-thought” because in the end fate would intervene for good or ill.

  “What a relief. Gran, this gives you more time to de-clutter,” Samira teased. Prava threw nothing away, and her little cottage was bursting at the seams with her possessions.

  They walked in the garden after tea, Samira lagging behind to give Prem and Prava some privacy.

  “It’s very kind of you to do all this,” said Prava. “I wonder if you would allow me to cook dinner for you Saturday night? Samira is going out to dinner with a young man.”

  Prem accepted, and the ladies returned home very happy at the recent turn of events.

  Saturday came round and there was much shopping for meat, vegetables and wines by Prava and for shoes, sweaters and accessories by Samira. She had already cajoled her tailor into sewing three pairs of trousers and a dress. He grumbled and shook his head as though she was asking for the moon, only relenting when she said, fine, she would to go to the tailor at Fancy Fabrics.

  “What a waste of money, all these clothes. Men don’t notice such nonsense,” said Prava, who was planning to impress Prem via his stomach.

  “Well, maybe not, but no holey sweaters or socks for you tonight!” Samira said, going into her grandmother’s room. She picked out a navy gown and a red shawl and laid them out on the bed. The colors would look good on Prava. She wore beige trousers and an ivory -colored blouse with a cream cardigan. Her hair gleamed, and she put on some coral lipstick that emphasized her brown eyes. She’d been thinking about her relationship with Justin, not allowing herself to think about Ravi. Fortunately, everything that had happened in the last week helped divert her thoughts away from him. Hard to think that only two weeks ago they’d held each other in the starlight. She pushed the memory of it firmly out of her mind.

  Justin arrived right on time, suntanned from forgetting to wear his topee the previous day. He kissed Samira warmly and told her how wonderful she looked. She was very happy to see him and held on to his hand, not wanting to let him go. She left final instructions for Prava, whom she hadn’t been able to persuade to change yet.

  “Now, make sure you wear what I laid out for you!” she threatened, before departing with Justin.

  It was exciting to be on a real date. They drove to the Planters Club for dinner. Dali’s maddening slowness didn’t seem quite so bad to Justin with Samira there to distract him. She was excited and a little unsure of herself, which endeared her to him even more. After they’d eaten, they went upstairs for coffee and brandy beside the fire in his suite. The fire was lit even though it was July, and the warmth was comforting in the draughty, old building. The room glowed with the light from the fire, the deep red curtains that hung in the tall windows and the scarlet Tibetan rugs on the floor.

  Samira sank into one of the armchairs. Her hair shone in the lamplight.

  Finally, Justin spoke, “Would you hear me out on a plan I’ve devised? It may seem a little farfetched, but I’m excited about it and hope you will be too.”

  Samira nodded and waited for him to tell her what it was.

  “When you told me of your plans to go to England and Ireland this summer, it made me start thinking because I, too, have been planning to go to those places. I have leave due to me, and the Tea Company would like me to go now before they transfer the existing manager somewhere else. So I thought to myself, why don’t we go together? It will make travelling far more enjoyable. We could visit my parents and your Aunt Pauline, and we could take trips to Paris, Rome and Venice or anywhere else you might want to visit.”

  He studied her face for a response he hoped would be positive. Her eyes sparkled, and she seemed intrigued by what he was saying. He wasted no time and before she could speak, he went down on one knee before her and held out a little velvet box which he opened to reveal a diamond ring.

  “Nothing in the world would make me happier than for you to agree to marry me. I love you, Samira, and want you to be my wife.”

  Samira looked into his handsome, tanned face, stunned beyond words. She was warmed by the fire and the brandy and felt completely overwhelmed. She stared at the ring catching the firelight in its little silken cushion. In a haze, she saw him take the ring from the box and put it on her finger. Then he tilted her face up to his and kissed her till her senses swam.

  “Say yes, my darling. Say yes, and the world will be ours.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course, I will marry you,” Samira whispered, unable to resist. They were made for each other. It made perfect sense. He was a tried and trusted tea planter, just like her father. He loved her without question, which felt extremely good, and helped to heal her self- confidence which had been so badly shaken.

  He kissed her face and neck, and his hands stroked her body.

  “I love you, Samira. I want you.”

  “I love you and want you, too, Justin.” She whispered at last, her body craving the sensation it had so recently been awakened to. Holding her close, he took her by the hand and gently led her into his room.

  Chapter 21

  Dooars, Delhi & Darjeeling, India, 1978

  Samira returned to Ranikot with her ring and her new fiancé, her life transformed from when she left only a week ago. She ran up the steps hand-in-hand with Justin and found Ramona and Charles on the veranda, waiting for their arrival. Samira kissed them both and took Justin’s arm possessively.

  “We have great news to announce! Mum, Dad, I’d like to present my fiancé! Justin and I are engaged!” she held out her left hand, proudly showing them her ring.

  “Good lord!” exclaimed Charles. “This is a surprise! I say!”

  “Sammy?” Ramona was stunned, to say the least. Only a week ago, Sammy had left home nursing a broken heart over Ravi. She’d gone to her grandmother’s to get over him, but Ramona didn’t think it would happen quite so quickly. She didn’t want to cast a dampener on proceedings or imply that she had reservations about Justin, but it was all so sudden.

  She suspected that her daughter was on the rebound and not thinking clearly. Still, she was elated, and who was she to talk when she and Charles had known from their very first meeting that they would marry? She scrutinized her daughter. There was something different about her. But there was no denying that she looked happy.

  “Mum?” She saw that Samira was waiting for a response. She put her arms around them both, exclaiming loudly how delighted she was and congratulated them warmly. Seeing that Ramona was happy, Charles decided that all must be in order and that the Ravi fellow was a thing of the past. He preferred Justin in any case, a nice, steady lad who had been married before and knew what it was all about. He was a little old for Sammy, but maybe that was what she needed, someone able to take care of her, give her a little leeway. This would mean that she would not be going away. That reminded him that he had news to announce, too. Was this the time, though? He glanced at Ramona, questioningly. She was the one who knew how and when to say things. But when Samira said,

  “And isn’t it wonderful that we’ll be so close to you?” he cleared his throat nervously and said,

  “Actually, Mum and I have some news for you, too. Tell them, darling.”

  “Yes, we have an announcement of our own. As you all know, Charles has had to deal with endless labor problems and lack of cooperation from the company. I wish they were more like your employers, Justin. Anyway, to cut a long story short, he has
resigned and is taking early retirement.”

  “I’m not planning to just sit around, however,” he interjected. “I have been offered some consultancy work by a firm that owns a number of plantations in and around Darjeeling.”

  “So we will be leaving for Darjeeling,” Ramona continued, “in a month’s time.”

  It was Samira’s turn to be stunned. “So soon! How long have you been planning this?” She was more than a little peeved at not having been consulted.

  “Actually, it all came about quite suddenly,” said Charles. “I submitted my resignation to the superintendent while he was here last week, and he put my case forward to our head office in London by telephone. They’re always ready to agree to anything that will save them money, and it’s obviously going to be a whole lot cheaper for them to hire someone local than to continue paying me.”

  “And you’ve been busy, too, darling,” Ramona reminded her. She wasn’t sure if Justin knew of Samira’s relationship with Ravi, although it had ended by the time Justin met her.

  “Where will you live in Darjeeling?”

  “We plan to buy a house when we find one. And my mother will be welcome to live with us, of course. It’s one of the reasons we want to go there.”

  So, it had all worked out for Prava. She may have lost her beloved cottage, but now she would live with her daughter and Charles.

  “That’s wonderful,” said Samira, happy for her grandmother. What had she said about things always working out? And they had worked out for both her and her grandmother. Not only was she getting married, she was getting to travel to all the places she wanted, which reminded her of the other half of their news.

  “Justin and I have other news for you, too,” she said. Would the announcements ever stop on this momentous day?

  “Yes, we do.” He told them about his plans for his vacation that coincided with Samira’s travel plans. “We will be leaving just as soon as we can make the arrangements.”

  “And have you set a wedding date?” asked Ramona, a little confused by how quickly things were moving.

  “That’s something we need to discuss,” said Samira. “Exactly here and when the wedding is to be. Justin thinks his mother will want it to be in Ireland, and I would like it to be here when we get back. Naturally, there hasn’t been time to discuss all the details.”

  “I understand that you would want your daughter to be married here,” said Justin. “And as it is my second wedding, I’m pretty sure my mother won’t mind too much.”

  “So, you’re going away for six months and will get married when you return?” asked Ramona, a little uncomfortable about the idea of her daughter travelling with someone she was not married to.

  “It’s seems that’s the plan,” said Samira, looking to Justin for confirmation. “There’s so much to be done.”

  “But all of it good,” said Charles. “I’m very happy for you both. And we’ll be only a few hours away from you. Justin, would you like to stay to dinner? We already set a place for you.”

  In his bungalow at Baghrapur, Ravi was packing his bags. July in Delhi would be even hotter than in the Dooars, but at least his parents had air conditioning. Some of the tea bungalows had air conditioning, but not his. He packed a few pairs of trousers, shirts and ties knowing that there would be a number of formal occasions to attend. He needed to have his trousers taken in. His lifestyle here was far more active than it had ever been in the city. And there was nothing like good, home cooking. His cook was mediocre to say the least.

  His flight left at nine the next morning. It took less than three hours to fly from Baghdogra to Delhi. His parents were at the airport to meet him, delighted that he was complying with their wishes.

  “Look how thin you are!” his mother said. “And the sun has made you darker, but it suits you. It’s okay for a man to be dark.” She surveyed him dubiously as they walked out of the airport terminal. “What do you think, Sunil? Doesn’t he look thin? Never mind, we will fatten him up.”

  Ravi smiled at his father who seldom got a word in edgeways and had become reconciled to his wife’s interminable chatter.

  “You will really like Radhika. She’s a very sweet girl,” she continued in the same breath.

  “Yes, Ma, I’m sure I will,” said Ravi. His throat was dry. This was not a scenario he had envisioned for himself. Why had he agreed to it? It was ridiculous. He should just have agreed not to marry Samira and left it at that. How had they talked him into this? He felt that he had been manipulated into agreeing to their plan to compensate for the indiscretion he had committed by even thinking about marrying someone like her.

  Driving home, he looked disconsolately out the window at the helter-skelter of urban life he had been so overjoyed to escape. Everyone tore around in frenzy with horns honking, brakes slamming and a nerve-racking attitude of one-upmanship. Cars sped towards each other on the narrow pot-holed streets, with one driver finally giving way to the one who stood his ground. It was a miracle more people weren’t killed. In wintertime, the dust lay thick on every surface. Now in the monsoon, mold and mildew blackened the sides of buildings and turned the footpaths slick and treacherous.

  “If you don’t like her, just tell us,” said his father, Sunil. “There are other girls.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Sunil. Of course, he will like her. Remember how pretty she is.”

  Yes, there were thousands of prospects in Delhi, each one of them described as “tall, fair and convent-educated” in the matrimonial columns. So, where were all these fabulous women, he wondered? He knew of only one who truly fit the description, he thought wryly to himself. She was the tallest, fairest and most beautiful girl in the land, and he had broken her heart and couldn’t get her out of his mind. He was still smarting from causing so much hurt, and was about to perhaps create more pain. Could he even contemplate saying,

  “She won’t do. This girl’s not tall, fair or educated enough. Next please.”

  After all, there were plenty more for him to choose from.

  But what was the difference? His heart wasn’t in it. They would all seem the same to him in his current frame of mind. He might as well go for the first one. Obviously, his parents and family thought highly of her. She must be pretty special. Why make things more complicated?

  His father maneuvered the car up the driveway, and they entered the house, going up the marble staircase. The living room was furnished with low couches upholstered in purple brocade, brass side and coffee tables and white drum lampshades. There were large pictures on the walls depicting medieval scenes of crossed-legged men playing lutes, women balancing earthenware pots on their heads and half-clad dancing maidens surrounded by deer. Cool and uncluttered, it could have been any middle-class home in Delhi, with no personal stamp on it except for a small number of sepia picture frames of the family in front of the Taj Mahal, one of him with his sister Deepa, and Sunil and Poonam’s wedding portrait.

  His bags had been taken to his room. He discarded his sweaty travelling clothes and went to the bathroom. The water smelled strongly of chlorine. He had grown accustomed to the pure, unsullied water of the Dooars. As he poured tepid water over his body, he felt himself grow tepid and indifferent. He had presented every argument to his father, who had refuted all of them and won. Ravi was defeated. Like a Christian before the lions, he would go forward and meet his fate.

  After a cup of tea and some of his favorite sweetmeats, they climbed into the car for the short ride to Radhika’s house. The houses were all flat-roofed and faintly Art Deco, if a particular architectural style could be attributed to the buildings that cowered behind protective cement walls, with concrete paths and driveways constructed to defy the intrusion of any wayward weed or wildflower. The odor of disinfectant used for cleaning the floors combined with the scent of incense that burned in an alcove in homage to the deity Krishna.

  They were ushered in by the girl’s parents, the stress of the occasion evident on their faces. Their beloved dau
ghter was about to be assessed by a highly eligible bachelor. The right of refusal on her part was purely academic. The likelihood of her making a better match was highly unlikely. In any case, this bridegroom was so handsome that she would have to be out of her mind, or blind, to turn him down.

  “Please come, come in. Be seated. Have some tea. We will fetch Radhika.” Pushpa fussed, passing plates of food, while Ashok, went to summon their daughter. She rejected their protests that they had already had tea.

  “No, no. I insist,” said Pushpa, who had gone to great lengths to select the very best sandesh and samosas for this auspicious occasion.

  Radhika was in her room, anxious and flustered by the ordeal ahead of her. She had been told that Ravi was a great match, besides being extremely handsome and intelligent. But she didn’t want to leave her friends in Delhi and to go to the tea plantations or to be separated from Santosh, whom she pined for every minute they were apart and who loved her desperately, but would never be anything but an office clerk, whom she knew her parents would never agree as to as a suitable match for her.

  Should she try to look as pretty as possible? She wasn’t quite sure what the better course of action was. While she ached to be with Santosh, she did not want to be rejected by Ravi. And if she couldn’t have Santosh, then surely it was better to be with someone she didn’t love who had good looks and a good job, than someone who had neither? So she wore her prettiest salwar and dutifully followed her mother downstairs, jasmine- scented, silks rustling, bangles and anklets jangling.

  Ravi had to acknowledge that she was exceptionally pretty as she entered the room, her large, frightened eyes darkened with kohl. He didn’t think it polite to examine her too openly and looking down, he saw her slim feet resting in gold thong sandals with toenails painted red. She saw that he wore leather tasseled moccasins, gray socks and dark trousers. She had been instructed to cast her eyes down and look demure, but in truth she scarcely dared to raise her eyes and look at him, fearful of what she might see, as though that first glance would seal her fate forever.