by Ranjit Lal
‘Yes, I slept wonderfully, and even Mihi was good.’
‘What would you like for breakfast? There’s scrambled eggs, toast, marmalade and our locally made preserves, and also idli, dosa, rasam. And fruit, tea, coffee and juice.’
‘I’ll help myself, thank you. Umm… have you seen my son Gaurav?’
‘I think he went for a walk early morning.’
Kanika sighed. ‘I guess he’ll be back soon.’
Ten minutes later, Gaurav walked into the dining hall. Megha smiled at him. ‘Good morning, Gaurav. Did you catch the sunrise?’
‘Morning,’ he mumbled. ‘I just went for a walk.’ He piled his plate high and slouched down in front of it. He glanced at his baby sister; every time he thought about her squirming naked in the grip of that cop, he felt sick in his stomach. And if the maniac with the gun had turned it on them… He shuddered. He had hardly interacted with Mihi after the episode. She would never be his responsibility again, he swore. It was up to his mother and Mariamma to look after her.
Kanika picked up Mihi, who had started demanding her attention.
Megha came around. ‘Hello, baby!’ she said as Mihi stared at her out of big black eyes. Then Mihi spotted Gaurav on the other side of the table and reached out to him, making urgent baby noises.
‘Say hello to her at least, Gaurav!’ Kanika said, and then smiled at Megha. ‘She adores her big brother.’
‘So do you have any plans for the day?’ Megha asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down. Except for them, the dining hall was empty – there weren’t any other guests at the estate. ‘Actually, you’re here for a while, so you can just relax,’ she added.
‘What’s there to do around here?’ Kanika asked, rocking Mihi up and down on her knees.
‘Nothing, really. This place is perfect for doing nothing. You can read or sketch or take pictures or bird-watch – that sort of thing. Not too much by means of entertainment or a social scene.’
‘Are there people living here on a permanent basis?’
‘Yes, of course. There are several families in Anandpur; people who have retired, or have roots here. Then there are those who come and go – we have two research scientists staying nearby. And, of course, there’s our most prominent resident: Vijaya Abhinav, the writer and educationist. She’s in the big house that has guards. Very particular about her privacy and a bit of a tartar, but she’s done some really good work in these mountains. She has opened many schools, and somehow manages to convince young people from the cities to come here and help out. A lot of them just stay on. She’s our local VIP,’ Megha grinned.
‘Vijaya Abhinav?’ Kanika said, wrinkling her brows. ‘She… she won the Booker, right?’
‘Yes,’ Megha nodded and smiled. ‘She’ll probably murder me if she comes to know I told you – but she’s also the prime minister’s older sister. That’s why she has all that security around her place, and she loathes it.’
Gaurav looked up and swallowed his scrambled eggs. ‘So who’s the kid with the GI cut?’ he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
Megha laughed. ‘I see you’ve met our Special Agent Shroom! She’s Vijaya’s granddaughter. Her parents died when she was a baby, so she’s been brought up by her nani.’
‘Oh, Rukmini, right? She was here yesterday. I spoke to her,’ Kanika said. ‘But why’s she called Shroom?’
Megha told them about the benign tumour Shroom had and recounted the little story behind her name, which Gaurav had already heard, but he listened silently to the conversation. ‘Poor Shroom has had it rough, and she’s been quite a lonely child,’ Megha sighed, ‘but she’s a plucky girl, even if a bit eccentric and wild.’ Her eyes glimmered. ‘Shroom is a lot like her nani – an independent spirit with a kaleidoscopic imagination. Vijaya doesn’t show it, but she absolutely adores her.’
‘You seem to be very fond of her yourself,’ Kanika smiled, as she offered Mihi a piece of bread with jam. ‘Come on, Mihi, you can do it! This bread is wonderful!’
‘We’re all fond of Shroom,’ Megha said. ‘She’s a great kid… livens up everything around. Apparently the PM dotes on her. Well, that’s expected, I guess, since he has no family of his own. But Vijaya is bringing her up remarkably well. Shroom’s not at all spoiled or obnoxious, she has no airs at all. In fact, that’s the reason Vijaya won’t allow her to live in Delhi. She even had a tiff with her brother over that matter, but he had to agree in the end because Shroom kept falling ill in Delhi. She’s doing well here, touch wood.’
‘Poor girl…’
Megha smiled. ‘She’s special. You see, if Shroom can’t go to Delhi, then the PM must come here to see her!’
‘What?’ Kanika asked. Gaurav, all ears, bit into an apple.
‘Well, once a year, the PM comes here to meet Vijaya and Shroom; it’s his annual holiday. And even then, it’s strictly on Vijaya’s terms. Can you imagine – at first they wanted to build a road so he could drive up, but Vijaya put her foot down. She told him, “Either you walk or I’ll sell the house and go elsewhere. I don’t want a road here, and nor does anyone else.” Anyway, the security would not hear of the PM having to walk for an hour and a half through the forest, so she compromised and they’ve built a helipad on the grounds of the house. Even so, you should see all the bandobast in the village; the road gets jammed with his entourage and the press…’
‘Wow, Vijaya Abhinav seems to have quite a personality,’ Kanika remarked.
Megha nodded and poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘Not only that,’ she continued, ‘Vijaya insists that people’s lives here shouldn’t be affected when the PM visits. We hadn’t opened last year when he came; we were still building the place and were told that all construction had to stop for the duration of his visit. Vijaya simply told them that his visit would have to be cancelled in that case. She would not have others’ schedules disrupted because of his plans. So they let us continue with our work and he came and everything was fine.’ Megha laughed. ‘Really, I think Vijaya would have made a better prime minister. Shroom calls her the Geek Empress. And, god forbid, if you ask the Geek Empress for any favour just because she’s the PM’s sister… But she has really gone out of the way to look after Rukmini.’
‘Isn’t it a bit risky, though? To live in a remote place like this with a child who’s been so ill? What if she needs urgent medical help?’
‘It is,’ Megha nodded, ‘but Vijaya obviously thinks it’s worth the risk.’ She smiled. ‘I think she has thought it through. Vijaya’s pretty smart. She knows that if Shroom ever needs emergency help, the PM will whistle over a helicopter in no time. There’s also an air-force base and a military hospital in the foothills, maybe half an hour’s flight away. Besides, she’s in regular touch with Shroom’s doctors on the phone. She just believes that the little girl will be happier and healthier here; this is where she was born and has lived all her life.’
‘What happened to her parents?’
‘A truck rammed their car off the mountainside. Shroom was at home with Vijaya at the time. She was just three months old.’
‘How tragic!’
‘Is the prime minister due to visit any time soon?’ Gaurav asked suddenly, his voice a tad loud. His mother looked startled and put her hand on his wrist.
Megha shrugged. ‘His visit is usually top secret. Two years ago we got to know only when we saw all those vehicles in the village, and then his chopper flew past. But you know something’s up – there’s a buzz and increased security around Vijaya’s house and on the bridge. Suddenly there are these tall crew-cut men in sunglasses and safari suits wandering around, pretending to be tourists!’
She called for Mohan, who began clearing up the table. ‘So what are your plans for the morning?’ Megha asked, gently pinching Mihi’s pink cheeks.
‘I’ll just relax,’ Kanika replied. ‘I’ve got a book, and I haven’t spent quality time with my daughter for ages.’
‘I think I’ll go for another walk,’ Gaurav mumbled.
‘Great,’ Megha said. ‘Would you like to see a map of the area? Just so you can get your bearings?’ Without waiting for him to reply, she removed a tattered blueprint from the sideboard and opened it out. ‘See, that’s Anandpur, where the taxi dropped you, and that’s the forest track and stream. At the bifurcation here, you continued more or less straight to our place, and beyond that is Vijaya’s house. If you take the fork leading up the mountain, you’ll cross the stream – there’s a school here, and above it the forest rest-house I mentioned earlier. This zigzag path leads to the narrow track higher up on the ridge that runs almost parallel to the lower one. The two paths converge again nearly at the end of the ridge, beyond the gorge…’
‘And that leads to the place where I met the little girl today,’ Gaurav added, pointing to a spot on the map.
Megha looked a little shocked. ‘That wicked girl! Vijaya has told her not to venture there, but she just won’t listen; she loves going to those dangerous spots.’
SIX
No one knew for how many years the old forest rest-house had lain empty, slowly crumbling to rubble. It stood – like others of its kind – at a vantage point, commanding a magnificent view of the mountains and valleys. From here, the village school was just five minutes downhill; ten, if you had to climb back up. The rest-house was bordered by a verandah, and it had a spacious central living and dining area with a fireplace on either side. The bedrooms were huge, with adjoining cavernous bathrooms that had attached dressing rooms. The garden, with its peach and apricot and walnut trees, had grown wild and tangled. And there were zigzag cracks in the walls and holes in the slate roof of the house.
Vijaya had paid one visit and ordered its complete renovation – it would be perfect for the two young teachers from Delhi. The furniture was old and creaky, but a good work-over with mansion polish had brought a deep warm glow to the solid oak sideboards and dining table, and there was nothing to beat the ancient planter’s chairs for sheer lazy reclining. She had the whole place whitewashed, and got the window frames, blinds and doors painted dark green. The kitchen was in an outhouse, linked to the rear of the house by a trellised passageway over which wild roses crowded rampantly. Best of all, the house came equipped with Ram-babu, its ancient toothless caretaker, who was mightily excited at having someone to care for again.
Monica and Raveena had encountered Vijaya at the India International Centre in Delhi, where they’d gone to see an art exhibition. As they approached the lift, they noticed the tall, silver-haired lady accompanied by a woman in a khaki salwar-kameez. When the lift doors opened, the two women entered. Just as the sisters were about to follow, the khaki-clad woman barred the way and shook her head.
‘Let them come in!’ Vijaya snapped, and smiled apologetically at them. ‘I’m sorry, girls; come in,’ she said, giving the woman a flinty look. They had immediately recognized her.
The lift had just started moving when it got stuck. Vijaya was exasperated as she pressed the emergency button and the other woman took out a walkie-talkie and began talking into it frantically.
‘I hope you girls don’t suffer from claustrophobia. We might be stuck here for a while,’ Vijaya warned.
‘No, ma’am,’ Monica said, ‘we’re not claustrophobic.’
‘The fan’s working, so it’s okay; we have ventilation,’ Raveena added chirpily. She glanced at Vijaya, who was dressed in a pristine white churidar-kameez with gold embroidery, and wore a red bindi. ‘Ma’am, we’re so glad to meet you,’ she blurted out. Surely it would have been impolite not to acknowledge the VIP standing next to them. ‘I’m Raveena and this is my sister, Monica.’
‘Nice to meet you. I’m Vijaya. And what do you do?’
‘We’ve just finished our teachers’ training.’
Her eyebrows shot up at once. ‘That’s interesting. So, you’ll be looking for jobs in Delhi schools, I suppose?’
‘Umm, not necessarily; it depends…’
‘Okay, then I’ll get straight to the point,’ Vijaya said briskly. ‘I run several schools in the hill districts and we’re always short of teachers.’ She shook her head. ‘The young women who actually graduate from those areas can’t wait to either get married or get jobs in the cities – they just flee…’
The lift jerked to life and moved upwards. ‘Listen,’ she went on, ‘would you like to join me for a cup of coffee a little later?’
Over coffee, one thing had just led headlong to another.
‘So, what subjects do you teach?’ Off the cuff, Vijaya had sprung an interview on the duo. ‘Any preferences or specializations?’
‘Monica’s the humanities person – literature, history and geography. I’m into science and maths,’ Raveena replied. ‘So together we make a pretty complete team, except that neither of us knows much about economics or commerce, which somewhat reduces our market value.’ She smiled.
Vijaya cupped her chin with her fingers and nodded. ‘I spend a lot of time recruiting city-based teachers – it’s something like making doctors go to the villages for a year before allowing them to practice in cities, but I do it with teachers and it’s voluntary. You spend a year in the hills, teaching the kids there – and learning. You’ll be surprised how much there is to learn. And they have a lot to learn from you city folk, so it’s two-way traffic. I can’t offer you much by way of salaries and perks, but you’ll get a place to live, fresh air, pure water, good food, an inspiring view of the Himalayas, and a bunch of wonderfully eager and often talented kids to teach. Several teachers have just stayed on.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘One more thing: how’s your Hindi?’
‘It’s okay, I guess.’ Raveena shrugged. ‘Monica did really well.’
‘Good. There’ll be quite a lot of translation to be done. Many kids speak only Hindi and we’re trying to make them fluent in English as well… So, how does the idea strike you? Would you like to give it a try?’
The girls looked at each other. It sounded inviting, exciting even, and was certainly a different kind of job. ‘I’d love to,’ Monica said, and Raveena nodded in agreement. ‘Ma’am, could we try it out for, like, three months first and see if it works for us?’ She coloured and hastily added, ‘And, of course, if you like the way we teach…’
‘Fair enough. Now I suppose you’ll have to tell your parents and e-mail me your resumés. I’ll have details regarding your accommodation and so on e-mailed to you. Your parents would be interested in that, I think.’
‘We’ll let them know. They live in Bhopal. I don’t think they’ll have any objection. They might prefer it to us living alone in Delhi as we’ve been doing.’
Vijaya peered at them over her glasses and nodded. ‘Are you twins? Though you don’t look exactly the same…’
The sisters nodded. ‘Yes, but we’re not identical twins,’ Raveena said. ‘Monica’s older by a couple of hours.’
They discussed the details and, eventually, the girls found themselves on the Ranikhet Express bound for Kathgodam, where a taxi would be waiting to take them to Anandpur, 7000 feet up in the mountains.
Monica and Raveena were thrilled with the rest-house and, within minutes, Ram-babu had taken them firmly under his wing as he showed them around.
After the tour, he hobbled up the garden path with his battered can full of frothing fresh milk and insisted they down steaming tumblers of the milk in front of him. ‘Madamji ka order hai ji,’ he said, waving a hand towards Vijaya’s house. ‘If you don’t drink it, I’ll be sacked.’ The sisters recoiled but, unable to disappoint the old man (or make him lose his job), they forced themselves to drink the milk. It was from his own cow, Malti, personally milked by him each morning. Much to their surprise they loved it, though guzzling it while Ram-babu watched grinning toothlessly was a little disconcerting.
‘I feel like we’re six again,’ Monica quipped later, glancing through the trees at the school below.
Raveena nodded as she tied her hair into a loose ponytail and peered at the mirror. ‘Maybe the old biddy
is just sending some kind of subliminal message, you know, that we shouldn’t think we’re too smart just because we’re from the city; we still have to drink our milk – well, Malti’s milk – every morning.’
‘Well, she was pretty clear about her intentions,’ Monica remarked.
Vijaya had, among other things, first wanted to observe how well the girls would take to their new environs and jobs before introducing them to Rukmini. And they’d enthusiastically settled down in the sparkling forest rest-house, with its newly trimmed garden and zinnia beds. Within a week, Vijaya had begun to approve of them; her instinct had been spot on.
She’d been on the lookout for a private tutor for Rukmini – there was no way the little girl could attend school till she was much stronger and didn’t fall off the ponies – and she had not been able to find anyone who could handle her. And now here were these two bright and cheerful sisters who seemed to be just perfect for her granddaughter. What she liked the most about them was that they carried no baggage. They made no fuss about anything: their living quarters, the food, or the fact that they couldn’t connect to the net here. They were open to new ideas and did not have rigid minds. Twice already they’d taken the entire school – thirty-five students aged four to sixteen – out on a ramble to the waterfall, imparting simple lessons in science, maths, geography and even history as they went along.
‘Ma’am, is it okay if we step away from the regular syllabus a bit from time to time?’ Raveena had earnestly asked Vijaya, ten days after they joined. ‘You know, strictly adhering to the syllabi and textbooks can get boring for the kids. All they do is mug up stuff. So we thought we’d do what Monica and I call free-style education from time to time.’
‘What do you mean?’ Vijaya asked, her eyes twinkling.
‘Well, it’s a bit of a potpourri. Like, when we went to the waterfall we saw these beautiful emerald-green damselflies and I explained to the students how they flew in ways that were superior even to airplanes, and how their fossils had been found in amber. Then we spotted some bugs getting trapped in pine resin and showed them how fossils formed, and how we learnt about creatures that lived millions of years ago. And then back to dragonflies and what people have thought about them down the ages and why. And how they live longer underwater than in the air… One of the main ideas is to pique the children’s curiosity about things they come across every day but have never stopped to think about.’