She paused for a while before continuing defiantly, ‘Let people think what they want to, right? And why does Anindo’s mother have to meddle in our personal affair? I’m taking the responsibility of making her son happy, am I not? Why are you silent, why don’t you say something?’ I still didn’t say a word. ‘I’m not going to listen to anyone,’ she said. ‘We’ll go ahead.’
Had I ever known this defiant, uninhibited Karabi?
I met her again some time during the day. She smiled when she saw me. ‘Have you heard? Mrs Pakarashi’s threatening me. She says she can get Agarwalla to sack me, and many more things besides.’ She burst into laughter. ‘You’re the one who got me into trouble—I could have managed everything on my own.’
‘I?’
‘Yes! You made me promise not to tell Anindo anything.’
‘So break your promise—what business is it of mine?’
‘How can I do that? That’ll harm Anindo,’ she said gravely. ‘I cannot tolerate anybody threatening me. Right from childhood, nobody’s been able to get the better of me by intimidating me. Anindo was here. He asked me why I was so upset. I couldn’t say anything to him.’
Mrs Pakrashi had threatened Karabi all right, but now it was she who came to meet Bose-da that very night, her face pinched with worry. Karabi had contacted her over the phone, telling her that she had weapons—one that could destroy Mrs Pakrashi’s lovely family.
Mrs Pakrashi was no longer the proud lady we knew. She seemed devastated by Karabi’s threat. She lamented her fate: why had the phantom of suite number one in Shahjahan Hotel attracted her? ‘I’ll never be able to trust anyone again,’ she whimpered.
Bose-da stood at the counter like a statue. He didn’t utter a word.
Later that night Karabi sent for me. She was glowing with happiness. I knew Mrs Pakrashi had been to see her. Karabi had an envelope in her hand. ‘She’s agreed!’ she burst out. ‘She had no choice. How else could she save face in front of her family? She said she won’t raise any more objections. At first she had some doubts—she thought I had no proof. Then I showed her these.’ Karabi waved the envelope in her hand. ‘I can’t show them even to you—negatives of photographs taken inside suite number one.’
Mrs Pakrashi had been stunned at first. She couldn’t believe Karabi had documented proof of her secret liaisons. ‘O God, where did these come from?’ she had asked nervously.
Karabi had merely said, ‘It’s better they stay with one person rather than do the rounds, don’t you think?’
I was curious. ‘Really, where did you get them?’ I asked. ‘I had no idea that anyone could take photographs inside a locked room.’
‘Someone in this hotel gave them to me,’ said Karabi. ‘How else would I have got them? Just because Mrs Pakrashi doesn’t care for me, you think nobody else does?’ Again there was a peal of laughter. ‘She’s agreed—she won’t stand in our way any more. So, now what?’
Like a fool I said, ‘Now goodbye to Shahjahan and hello to New Alipore.’
She placed her hand on my shoulder—I had become a friend. ‘Now all of you will forget me—you never did think of me as a colleague, did you?’
‘You are the one who will forget us. Even if you come to Shahjahan for dinner or a banquet, you won’t spare a glance for the counter—you’ll walk straight to the hall with the other eminent guests. And we will still be making out receipts, drawing up bills, filling in the registers, attending to phone calls and getting ticked off by the steward.’
‘Don’t you like this job?’ she asked.
‘Not at all. You’ll get me a ten-to-five one, won’t you—you’ll have so many jobs to dispense.’
‘Of course I will. You’ve done so much for me, and you think I won’t do this one little thing for you?’
‘Good night,’ I said.
‘Good night,’ she replied.
I must have dozed off, for it was quite late when Gurberia knocked on my door. The lady in suite number two wanted to see me, he said.
Splashing water on my face, I went downstairs again, and saw that something was wrong with Karabi. She was trembling.
Clutching her head, she cried hysterically, ‘What have I done? Save me.’ Her eyes were popping out of their sockets.
I tried to calm her. ‘You mustn’t carry on like this! What is it? We met just a while ago; nothing was wrong then.’
Karabi was like a frightened child. ‘I thought I wouldn’t tell anybody...no matter what anyone says, I won’t give Anindo up. I’ve got nothing from life—if someone offers me his love, why shouldn’t I take it?’ She paused, and then continued, ‘Why is Mrs Pakrashi so worried? Does she think I won’t take care of her son, or that I won’t love him?’
Trying to comfort her, I said, ‘Why these thoughts all of a sudden?’
‘How can I not have them? When Anindo’s mother left my room...you didn’t see her...she was shaking like a leaf. You won’t object any more, will you? I had asked her. No, she said. She also said, you’re probably a little older than my son, still I won’t say anything. Then she started sobbing. She pleaded with me, “You’ll tear up those negatives before the wedding, won’t you?” Clutching my hand, she said, you won’t tell anyone, will you?’
I couldn’t make out what was happening. Karabi was almost in tears. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this. How can I marry a person like Anindo by blackmailing his mother and taking advantage of her weakness.’
She reached inside the envelope to check if the negatives were in it. Then suddenly, right in front of my eyes, she tore the envelope and its contents to shreds. ‘Impossible,’ she said. ‘Anindo’s mother, his father—they are my elders. I can’t take such an immoral path into Anindo’s home; it’ll be sinful, and bring harm upon him.’
After a few minutes she calmed down. ‘I’m losing my mind,’ she said, wiping her tears. ‘I have no one to talk to here, that’s why I sent for you.’
The next day I woke a little late. By then there was a great commotion in the hotel. The police had broken down the doors of suite number two and brought out Karabi’s lifeless body.
‘She took an entire bottle of sleeping pills,’ said an inconsolable Nityahari.
When her body was sent to the morgue I didn’t go.
On his return, Nityahari said, ‘Not even a last goodbye? I put my best linen in the police van. Why did she have to come to this hotel? The first day I saw her, I told everybody, this isn’t a hotel girl, this is my daughter. Nobody listened to me then—now look what’s happened.’
13
I often find the past impinging upon the present, memories intruding on my pleasant, personal thoughts. Even though I can scarcely afford the luxury of indulging in solitary ruminations, the painful memories of Shahjahan Hotel cloud my thoughts every now and then. I do not know, nor want to know, the whys and the wherefores. But I do realize that without my sojourn at Shahjahan, my education in the school of life would have remained incomplete. If you want to know the real individual lurking inside a person, you must come to this magnificent roadside inn.
Years ago when I set foot in the world of law and justice, there was someone experienced and sensitive enough to guide me through its mysterious lanes and by-lanes. I did not have to seek anything out for myself; whatever I needed to see, to know, was arranged for me personally by my affectionate British employer. At the Shahjahan, however, there was nobody to point out to me the extraordinary hidden deep within the crowded human jungle. And yet this insignificant employee, with no one to guide him, has been fortunate enough to receive priceless gems from this incredible treasure-laden world. I tip my hat to the supremely talented artist who can create ever-new characters on the canvas of literature with the help of his imagination. But I am a slave of experience. I am not free to indulge my imagination. So many flesh-and-blood men and women are imprisoned in my memories. They try to escape whenever they can; they demand their freedom. I do not have the opportunity to create characters out of nothing.
But what is an ordinary hotel employee like me capable of? I became painfully aware of my helplessness the day Mrs Pakrashi hosted a party at Shahjahan—a cocktail party, a reception for Anindo and Shyamali.
The dinner to celebrate the marriage of Anindo and Shyamali had already taken place at Pakrashi House. The uniformed bearers of Shahjahan had waited on the guests. I had been ordered to go, too, but Bose-da had probably guessed my state of mind. That is why he bailed me out, saying, ‘Forget about telling the manager; I’ll go instead.’
It was very late when Bose-da came back to the hotel, his shirt soaked with perspiration. He was angry when he saw me sitting on the terrace. ‘Why on earth haven’t you gone to bed?’ I merely smiled. Loosening his tie, he said, ‘Special catering for fifteen hundred guests is no simple matter—I’ve worked my fingers to the bone.’ I said nothing. ‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
Bose-da lit a cigarette. ‘As children we used to sing that song—Bhabite paarina tomari bhabona—I cannot take care of your worries.’
‘Well, you have been doing just that all your life, taking care of other people’s worries,’ I reminded him.
Putting his arm around my shoulder, he said, ‘How can you be “other” people?’
‘Those you think of as nearest to you will all become “others” one day,’ I told him.
In the dim glow of his cigarette, Bose-da probably couldn’t see me clearly. ‘Wouldn’t you help me if I were in trouble?’
What could I say? I knew my abilities only too well—didn’t you see how effectively I came to the aid of the person in suite number two?
After years of ingesting and digesting the poison of Shahjahan, Bose-da had probably become immune to everything that went on around him. Blowing a smoke ring into the night, he said, ‘One can’t really serve another in the hotel of the world. We can at best hold out the tray, like good waiters. People will have to pick out their own rewards. Anyway,’ he continued with a laugh, ‘you don’t have to hold out that tray for the time being. What you have to hold out are drinks, because Mrs Pakrashi has arranged a cocktail party here, in this hotel. No auspicious occasion in Calcutta is complete with just dinner these days. It has to be the glass after the plates; in other words, a special treat at a good hotel for specially selected guests. You will have to organize all this. Tomorrow onwards that’s where you’ll be on duty, and Mr Sohrabji will be your lord and master. But all that can wait. Now go to sleep like a good boy.’
‘And you?’ I asked.
‘I’m going to take a shower; then go downstairs for night duty.’
Night duty after such a hard day! I tried to dissuade him. Since he had filled in for me at Mrs Pakrashi’s, I could take his place at the counter. But he refused. ‘Who’s the boss here? Is the responsibility for drawing up the duty chart yours or mine?’
He practically forced me into my room.
I had no idea when I fell asleep. Suddenly I was awakened by a loud knocking on the door. I opened it to find Bose-da standing outside with a torch. Placing his hand on my shoulder, he said, ‘Sorry to wake you at such an hour, but you’ll have to vacate your room right now. I’ll explain later; let’s tidy up your bed first. Go splash some water on your face.’
As I went into the toilet, I heard him tell someone, ‘Please come in. You’re very tired, you’ll collapse unless you get some rest.’
When I came out, I saw a man sitting on my bed and taking off his shoes. ‘What about Miss Mitra?’ he asked.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Bose-da, ‘I’ll make arrangements for her right away.’
In the dim glow of the night, my eyes heavy with sleep, I saw a young woman in a blue silk sari, a bag in her hand. Taking the bag from her, Bose-da said, ‘This way, please.’
‘You can’t carry my bag,’ she protested.
Not paying any attention, Bose-da said, ‘Come along, please.’
We went and stood before his room. Handing over the bag to me, he said, ‘Just a minute, let me get the key.’
The lady seemed to cringe with embarrassment. ‘Why should you be carrying my bag,’ she said, ‘I feel every embarrassed.’ Yawning delicately, she added, ‘I wouldn’t dream of putting anyone to such trouble at this hour of the night.’
I didn’t say a word. The girl who stood before me was breathtakingly beautiful, with incredibly sad eyes. Even her voice was distinctive. If a dancer’s anklets were a little softer, if the rumble of trams were absorbed somewhat by the velvet green grass, if they had been a little more subtle, a little more restrained, they might have been somewhat like Miss Mitra’s voice.
Bose-da unlocked the door, saying softly, ‘You’ll have to rough it out here tonight.’
Looking around her, she asked, ‘Whose room am I forcibly occupying?’
‘You can find all that out later,’ Bose-da said. ‘Why don’t you go to bed now?’
‘Unless I’m told whose room it is, I won’t get any sleep,’ she said adamantly.
Bose-da was silent, so I said, ‘Mr Sata Bose’s.’
‘What Bose?’ Now there was a smile in her melancholy eyes.
Bose-da was forced to provide the answer. ‘I used to be Satyasundar, fate has made me Sata.’
‘We could have stayed on the bus, or spent a few hours in the lounge. But you’ve gone and taken matters into your own hands—now where you going to sleep?’
‘There’s no question of my going to sleep, Miss Mitra, I’m on duty. And this young man also has to report to work in a short while.’ Bose-da opened the toilet door and said, ‘The key’s a little tight, turn it with a little extra force, the door will open. The towel’s fresh, so you can use it.’
I accompanied Bose-da downstairs. ‘I had no choice,’ he said apologetically. ‘I couldn’t take the liberty of waking anyone else up. She’s an air hostess. They had to come to the hotel because their plane developed a technical snag. Normally we have separate arrangements for airline crew but tonight we’re in bad shape. All the rooms are occupied, and they seemed exhausted. She did say she could rest here on the sofa in the lounge. But how could I allow that? So I woke you. A couple of rooms will be vacated in the morning, I’ll move them there then.’
I was probably trying to suppress another yawn. Bose-da put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘If you’re going to work in a hotel, it’s a good idea to get used to staying up nights. Do you know who stays up nights?’
‘When I was a child I was told that naughty, disobedient children do,’ I said.
‘Exactly. It’s the naughty, disobedient, grown-up children who don’t go to sleep at night. After the excesses of the night, they fall asleep the moment dawn breaks.’
There was nothing to do but stay awake. The two of us went to the counter. Bose-da began doodling on a piece of paper, trying to replicate the Shahjahan lounge with strokes of his pencil.
Unexpectedly, I found myself suffused with the joy of a delicious freedom. There wasn’t a soul in sight—we were the lords and masters of Shahjahan Hotel. The occupants of the countless rooms here had reposed their faith in us and were sleeping through the silent night. Like the driver and attendants of a night train, the two of us were ferrying a group of long-distance pilgrims towards a golden dawn. I had no idea what the pilgrims of this sleeping continent would discover, but we wouldn’t be awake to share in their joy. Having entrusted the responsibility of the hotel to someone else, we would, by the light of day, try to woo the night into our tiny rooms.
Mr Agarwalla had employed a new hostess. In the still of night, I saw a man emerge from suite number two. I couldn’t recognize him, but Bose-da whispered in my ear, ‘He’s a well-known labour leader, head of the union in Agarwalla’s factories.’ A taxi drew up and the man disappeared inside. The doorman took out his notebook and wrote down something in it as the taxi sped off towards Shyambazar.
‘At night, we take down the number—there’s no telling what lies in store for people
who move around so late,’ Bose-da told me.
I realized that night was coming to an end when, wearing a short dhoti, Parabashia’s Lenin-babu approached the counter, chanting hymns. It was just as well that rules weren’t observed that early in the morning or else he would have been reprimanded for wandering around dressed like that.
‘Where to?’ I asked.
‘To my mother—she will forgive all my transgressions. Whatever sins I have committed, sifting through dirty linen all day long, will be washed away at her feet.’ Glancing at Bose-da, Nityahari said, ‘You’re an Englishman, it’s no use telling you, but allow this Brahmin’s son. If he develops the habit of taking a dip in the Ganga at dawn, he’ll be spared eternal damnation.’
‘Am I holding him back?’ asked Bose-da good-humouredly. ‘Let him go if he wants to.’
‘Come along, then,’ said Nityahari turning to me. ‘At this hour on the riverbank you can see hundreds of men and women washing away their sins. Our head barman Ram Singh has probably completed his ablutions by now and is sitting down to his prayers.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’
After he left, Bose-da said, ‘Quite mad! He’ll bring back a pitcher of water. First he’ll sprinkle it in front of the hotel, then he’ll enter through the back gate and sprinkle some on the mountain of pillows and linen, muttering his prayers all the while.’
A room was vacated early that morning by an American couple leaving for Ranchi. Bose-da said, ‘We simply must have a room to ourselves now. Go and check if either of them is up.’
I went to the terrace. Bose-da’s room was still locked. The air hostess, Miss Mitra, was probably still asleep. The door to my room, however, was open. Gurberia said, ‘The gentleman’s up, he’s even had his tea.’
When I knocked, he said, ‘Come in.’
‘You must have had an uncomfortable night,’ I told him. ‘A room’s been vacated downstairs, please come with me.’
Handing his luggage to Gurberia, I took the airline officer down to his new room and then reported to Bose-da. He smiled ruefully. ‘My luck’s run out after all these years at this counter. I envy you; who knows when I’ll be able get rid of the lady and get some sleep.’
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