Muni believed her mistress had come to her senses and, like an Indian bride, accepted the situation. She would ensure she wasn’t cheated in the town’s bazaars.
Margaret hung on to the side of the tonga. She must have been mad to set off. Would she ever learn to take advice and a measured view?
Ever attentive Muni said, “Memsahib I have water and fruits. Stop and eat.”
The tonga driver pulled off the road. The bearer lifted out a basket from under the seat. They picnicked at the roadside in the shade of a banyan tree looking out at the baking countryside. Margaret flexed her swollen fingers and toes. “Muni, what would I do without you?”
“Rest mistress… Let the sun pass.”
Refreshed, they travelled on to the town. Muni’s chosen shopkeeper sent for a chair. Honoured by Margaret’s patronage and flattered that she spoke to him in his own language, he served hot sugary tea that the maid prescribed fit to drink.
An accomplished sales magician, the shopkeeper swirled a rainbow of cotton and silk over the counter. Some fabrics were plain, woven to catch the light, others sported gold leaf patterns, paisley and intricate traditional designs. Muni was quick to point out that in summer, cotton made the best saris, with gossamer silk for more formal occasions. Winters required heavyweight silk for warmth. Margaret didn’t know where to start, but the astute maid suggested she choose two or three sari lengths to take today. She also suggested that the shopkeeper bring his most exclusive goods to Aakesh. This was the way local business was conducted by wealthy families. Public buying of saris was not suitable for ladies of the Margaret’s rank.
At the end of their transactions a bill was made out which Muni checked item by item, negotiating a hefty discount.
Ben arrived home unannounced the same afternoon. Margaret’s absence and Muni’s questioning of the servants in the main house were reported to him by his mother. The findings would be unpleasant but of no consequence. Margaret would return. Her child was here; besides where else could she go? His mother had the gate keeper beaten.
Ben sent for Pavia but his little girl was out of sorts, unwilling to sing or be amused by her father. Her dark brown eyes mirrored his but she had a knowing way of looking at him, and for a second he was shamed. He sent her away and was reading in his favourite chair when Margaret returned. He expected recriminations but none came. Curious to know where she had been, he was furious with the reply. “Shopping” he repeated, “risking our unborn child for trifles! Let me see this shopping that might have cost so much.” He passed the packages to Muni who dextrously unfastened the tightly knotted string unrolling the acres of brown paper. “Saris, you bought saris?”
“Lots to wear at home…” Margaret gave him the bill.
The discount was good but he said she should have tried for more. Rubbing the material through his fingers, he approved of the quality. “Well done my Charuni” he said, calculating the advantages of a sari-clad British wife. “Wearing these you will attend the temple. I will instruct you in all aspects of the Hindu religion but when we call on the British you will dress according to their custom.”
Did Ben think she was so easily charmed into submission? If so he was badly mistaken.
Chapter 14
“Memsahib” Muni said, “the cotton blouse you are wearing has been dyed green, the same colour as this sari. You can wear a different colour or shade and change the sleeve length according to your wish. Step into the petticoat and please to stand while I drape the cloth
over it.”
Muni picked up the end of the sari and dexterously pleated the length of fine cotton cloth around her mistress. She paid special attention to the arrangement of ties tucks and pleats that kept the material in place, without buttons or hooks.
“Are saris always the same size?” Margaret asked.
“The length is six yards. It is said the cloth was born on the loom of a fanciful weaver. He dreamt of a woman, the shimmer of her tears, the drape of her tumbling hair, and the colours of her many moods, the softness of her touch. All these he wove together. He couldn’t stop. He wove for many yards. And when he was done, the story goes he sat back and smiled and smiled.”
“Just like me” Margaret said, pleased at how comfortable it felt over her changing shape. Under the maid’s tuition she practised until she mastered the art of sitting, walking and carrying out tasks with aplomb.
* * * * *
The men were away from home and the women getting ready for lunch in the main house on the day Margaret made her entrance. She wore a sari that matched her blue eyes, and displayed a garnet-encrusted pin given to her by Ben. Suleka invited her to join them.
The others were too stunned to object.
The meal was strictly vegetarian without onions or garlic. The strongly spiced food didn’t agree with Margaret but it was a small price to pay to court her enemies. She nibbled at a selection of pakoras. “We are to have another child” she said ostensibly to Suleka, “He will be born in August.”
‘The Impostor’ cried out in dismay. Margaret couldn’t help seeing the dulled red weals gouged in her neck, partially concealed by the sari’s pallu. Ben’s mother dismissed the broken girl with a flick of her hand, a frightening demonstration of the woman’s power and capricious nature. Turning to Margaret she addressed her for the first time in halting English, “Such information is not necessary… We have eyes! Your condition becomes obvious. We have need of a boy. I trust you will be strong enough to withstand these hottest months.”
Vartika mocked, “You British flee to the hill stations.”
“I will not be leaving,” Margaret said bravely. “My husband is an excellent doctor. He will take care of me.”
Vartika glowered at her, “Another delay in arranging a marriage for Suleka… if we can find a bridegroom… all because my brother married you. Ghandi is urging the British to leave India. You will not be here for ever! Maybe then we will find Suleka a husband.”
Margaret wisely refused to be drawn and said reasonably, “That may well be the case. Meanwhile if my husband is not at home it will suit him if I will take lunch with you ladies and join you for the evening meal. I have asked for my household duties to be given to me as soon as possible.” Wary of Ben’s mother and Vartika, it was crucial Margaret sought his approval of anything involving them.
His mother craftily gave Margaret the responsibility for overseeing the cattle and the field labourers, telling her to wait until after the birth to take up such duties.
Ben refused to allow it, considering it to be menial work but to Margaret it presented a chance to break out of Aakesh. She argued persuasively, “Your mother is in good health but one day I may have to take some of the burden. What better way to learn and please her?”
Ben wasn’t convinced, but said she could try it for the next month, for most of that time he would be away. He’d review it on his return.
* * * * *
Suleka was sixteen. Vartika and Hiten were fully occupied with matchmaking arrangements so she seized every opportunity to visit Margaret. She stayed for hours, playing with Pavia and listening to stories about Scotland. In return she narrated ancient Indian legends and introduced Vedic chanting. Muni joined them, chanting in a squeaky high-pitched voice, resulting in little chanting and lots of affectionate laughter.
Early one morning they journeyed in a silver decorated bullock cart to inspect the outlying farms. The animals’ burnished coats and gaily-painted horns were adorned with red silken plumes and musical silver bells. The young women were seated on brightly quilted cushions and shielded from the sun by a red and gold tasselled canopy.
Suleka told Margaret that Ben had travelled to school in that very cart but as soon as he was old enough he went on horseback, riding wildly, scaring his bearers who would have been punished if any harm had come to him.
Margaret comme
nted, “He hasn’t changed.”
“It is his nature,” Suleka agreed, “My brother was spoiled and pampered by everyone at home. My father sent him away to school to try to correct his faults. We cried for days, especially my mother.”
Margaret couldn’t imagine her mother-in-law being moved to tears. Although she appeared to be old and cantankerous she was probably in her late forties. If there was any kindness in the woman Margaret hadn’t seen it. Suleka was the opposite.
“You see, Charuni,” she said, trying to explain her mother’s behaviour, “We have land and riches but my father aimed to raise the family higher. My brother was to become a doctor and be educated in the ways of the modern world. Hiten was chosen for Vartika because he is a lawyer and would eventually administer the estates. It worked well when my father was alive but now he is no more… and my mother…” She began to cry.
“Suleka, I am so sorry” Margaret said, “I didn’t know your family and culture would be as opposed to my marriage as mine was. My coming has ruined everything, including your marriage prospects.”
“Charuni, I’m not bothered by any delay to my marriage. On marriage freedom goes. You know in India a woman’s husband is her god. She submits to him, serves him and meets his every need. I am quite happy the day comes later.” Her merry laugh returned, “Indeed, I would not mind if it never came… but I must take a husband to protect me in this world.”
The women knew that the day would come and Suleka would have no choice but to consent. “You are brave, Charuni, you married my brother for love. I could not do such a thing.”
“But I have hurt so many people.”
Suleka didn’t deny it. “We came to know about you through a relative who was also studying in Edinburgh. He came home having completed his degree in engineering and told my mother that my brother was involved with a fellow student.”
Margaret asked candidly, “The telegram to bring Ben home… was your father really ill?”
“It had long been accepted that my brother would finish his education abroad. A suitable bride was chosen for him while he was very young and the necessary agreements made between the families. My father was unwell. His illness gave the excuse.”
“Did he know? I mean, your father.”
“He would not have associated himself with such a thing. In any event my mother was punished… my father had a heart attack.”
Margaret’s fleeting triumph turned to sorrow for her dear friend who clearly missed her father, “What possessed your brother to marry me when he had a wife already? Then to return and father a child…”
“Charuni, Indian men take a wife for all kinds of reasons, rarely for love. We do not know each other until after marriage and then, if we are fortunate, love grows. In his way, my brother loves you. My mother expected him to forget you when his desires were met at home… even after he began constructing the…”
“But he betrayed me!”
Margaret’s raised voice drew the attention of the bearers. Muni told them it was girl’s talk so they moved out of earshot.
Suleka put her hand reassuringly on her friend’s, “From what you have told me I think life in my country is very different from yours. Here the men are in charge and we women are answerable to them. We have to marry to be secure. Marriages are arrangements to promote families and provide children. As you have seen, wives enter their husband’s family and belong to them. It is not uncommon for a bride to be poisoned, smothered or burnt to death in a mysterious accident. You must have read in the newspaper. Brides disappear or suddenly die. It comes to light when the girl’s family asks to see her and can be many months after the wedding.
“Brides who fail to deliver suitable dowries or provide sons are at great risk; more so when they are disliked, or disapproved of. Be glad that Sati has been outlawed or we could find ourselves riding with our dead husband to be burnt alive on his funeral pyre.”
“Oh Suleka, the very country goes against me!”
How could Suleka explain these things? It was as it was. “To be a woman in India is a precarious business. I ask you to take pity and be tolerant of my brother’s first wife. My mother chose her. If you drive her away what will become of her and her daughter? You would be made to pay for such a thing. Your family are far away and my brother is not always at home. As long as he loves you, and is by your side, you will be protected. Let us pray you have a son… God willing I will always be here to help you.”
Suleka’s timely warning confirmed that Margaret’s fear was not irrational. Ben was often at his clinic; moreover there was talk that the British had invited him to join the army. She was safe until the baby was born. But after that who knows? In the blinking of an eye her life could be snuffed out. She resolved to redouble her effort to gain visible status and recognition outside Aakesh.
Chapter 15
Ben’s mother advised Margaret to drink slightly salted lassi, saying it was a coolant in the summer and good for the baby. Margaret was sceptical but it proved to be the case. The creamy yogurt drink was delicious and quite addictive especially when made with ripe mangoes. She sipped it in the shadow of the balcony, mulling over whether to invite the wives of British residents to tea. If Ben had been asked to join the army there ought to be some positive response.
A cloud of dust rose up from the road caused by a troop of mounted soldiers escorting a car. The outriders wheeled into the drive in perfect formation. Margaret recognised the vehicle as belonging to the Collector, the British official charged with managing land and district taxes for the government. She went to meet him in the receiving room of the main house where she found him respectfully talking to Ben’s mother, who presented Margaret.
“Mrs Atrey, do forgive my unannounced arrival but I was in the area and took the opportunity to call in person. My wife would have asked you to tea but she is frightfully busy these days and unfortunately I’ve been in Delhi.”
“Then perhaps you would take tea with me?”
Margaret said cordially. “It will allow me to show you the English House. My husband built it for me and is very proud of it.”
“I’m afraid it will have to be some other time,” he replied bowing to Ben’s mother. Margaret was sorry she hadn’t changed into English clothes but he sat while servants brought water and snacks. A fellow Scot, they spoke of Edinburgh and their home country.
“Mrs Atrey, you realise that your husband is greatly respected and an accomplished doctor.”
“Naturally we are delighted,” Margaret replied diplomatically.
Somewhat caught out the Collector admitted, “I don’t know if this has ever happened before… I’m not certain how it will work out in practice.” Clearing his throat he added, “You should be able to attend social functions but I’m not certain of the protocol. I have asked my wife to check out the situation. Women are so much better at these things than men.”
Margaret managed to keep a pleasant expression. The Collector had a duty towards her but the rest of the women in Ben’s aristocratic family didn’t move in British circles.
The short visit officially recognised her status, however it also infuriated her. She was being politely warned to stay away from the social scene until ‘her situation’ was cleared. She would wait and see what happened. At the moment no one would respond to an invitation to tea at Aakesh.
* * * * *
Each morning at sunrise Margaret offered water to the gods and performed Puja in the family shrine. Suleka took her to the local temple which was a racket of tambourines, drums and cymbals. The burning incense and rhythmic chanting of the priests brought the same peace Margaret had experienced at Mass. She prayed for safekeeping and the birth of a son. Outwardly a devout Hindu, she exchanged Catholicism for earthly survival and, to atone for her sins, fearlessly distributed food and alms to the dozens of beggars crowding the temple precinct. A mem
sahib performing rites and prayers in a Hindu temple was unheard of, attracting pilgrims who donated gifts and money.
The tardy monsoon took its toll. Leaves drooped limply from the trees. The very air scorched the ground locking Margaret indoors. Temple servants enquired daily after her health at the main house, much to the annoyance of its occupants.
A purple blackened sky heralded the breaking of the weather. The deluge veiled the landscape. Margaret and Pavia danced on the balcony lifting their faces up to catch rain. Muni scuttled indoors to sort out woollen shawls for the changing season. In the merriment Ben arrived soaking wet, calling for a bath.
* * * * *
Margaret changed seats. Perspiration drenched her. Muni fanned, pankah-wallahs fanned, water was brought, lassi was brought but, bigger with this pregnancy, sitting, standing, and lying, day or night there was no rest for Margaret.
Ben diagnosed that the baby was in a good position, with the head engaged. He said, “Charuni you are so huge there’s no room for me,” and took to sleeping in his own apartments.
This made her feel like an enormous elephant and permanently crotchety. “I know your first wife and child live in the main house and you have a duty to them…” Ben made as if he was going to say something but changed his mind. Goading him to answer she said, “I ask you not to take your pleasure there and that they do not come into my presence.”
“Charuni, a man cannot always control where he takes his pleasure! I have not availed myself of her since you arrived in India. Be satisfied to be my true love.”
She wanted to believe him but it would always be like this, the uncertainty, unless of course she gave birth to a son.
The next day was brightened by the arrival of a letter from her mother. Margaret read some of it aloud to Suleka:
The Letter Page 8