Flame Tree Road (15 page)

“I think their secret is the power of organization,” said Biren. “The British public school curriculum focuses on leadership training. In Indian schools we focus on bookish knowledge. We don’t encourage critical or analytical thinking.”

Ram frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is the British upper class is trained to think like leaders from a very early age. Look at the curriculum of English public schools—competitive sports encourage physical discipline and teamwork, subjects like logic, rhetoric and philosophy help to organize ideas and present arguments. The focus is on leadership. I think there’s something to be learned there.”

“Yet, if you think about it,” said the sage-like Samaresh, “it is this same elitist education that divides British society and creates class barriers. English public school students go on to study in Oxbridge. They become members of Parliament and make laws that serve the interests of the upper class. Look at it this way—the caste system may divide India, but it is class that divides Britain. Every country finds a way to keep society divided into the haves and the have-nots. It’s not so much about money as it is about entitlement.”

Biren grew quiet as he thought about his mother. Society had found a way to keep her trapped as a widow. Irrespective of money or caste, the plight of all Hindu widows was the same. They had no voice; it was almost as if they did not exist.

It would take a new law to eradicate this social evil, thought Biren. Two other social evils—widow burning and child marriage—were both abolished by the British only after they enforced strict laws in India. This was the very reason why he was in Cambridge. To study law and effect change from the inside.

CHAPTER

23

Cambridge

7th February 1890

Dear brother Nitin,

I wonder how long my letter will take to reach you. Postage to India is dear, so my letters to you and Ma may not be as frequent as I would like, but I will try to fit in as much news as I can.

I am glad to know you are doing well in school. You seem to have better sporting abilities than me. Congratulations on being appointed captain of the football team. Sports and extracurricular are valued highly in English universities, and you will find it very easy to fit in. We are both lucky to have studied at Saint John’s Mission.

I am still settling in. The student accommodation provided for me is very basic. I am thankful my room has a coal fireplace. I can heat a kettle for tea, make toast and boil an egg or two. Some days I have to skip my evening meal as I am usually out doing some odd job or other. The nights are frightfully cold.

The beautiful row of poplars on the way to Grantchester is still bare of leaves. There is a lonesome beauty in their naked branches. England has the most beautiful trees you can imagine. Magnificent horse chestnuts, lindens and leafy willows along the Cam. I can’t wait to see the meadows in spring. The purple crocuses have just started to bud behind Trinity College, and there is a wilderness area that runs riot with anemones and daffodils. Cambridge colleges are located in picturesque natural settings right out of an English storybook.

I work part-time at the bindery of the Cambridge University Press. I also do odd jobs—carpentry, painting and repairs. The drama club needs props, the rowing club needs boat painting and repairs before the annual Lent bumps, which is a boat race of sorts. To the untutored, the bumps would appear nothing more than a jostling and slamming of boats down the narrow Cam to get to first place. The victorious teams celebrate by decorating one another with willow branches followed by long sessions of feasting and drinking.

I spend a lot of time at the Cambridge Union Society. I am considering joining a private debating club, but membership to the best ones are by invitation only. The most interesting one is called the Erudites. They pick excellent thought-provoking topics but occasionally a completely inane one. I went to a debate where the topic was “Why laugh?” The speakers presented the most hair-splitting arguments on the whys and why-nots of laughter, all delivered in a formal parliamentary style, which made the whole debate unbearably funny. I’ve concluded the purpose of such insanity is not merely to amuse but to sharpen mental agility and develop nimble arguments.

The Indian scholars I have met here are some of the brightest and the best. If such groups of enlightened thinkers return to our homeland, India will break free of her narrow bonds and be transformed forever.

Not a single day goes by when I don’t think of you and Ma. I have saved ten shillings, which I will send you. If Uncle is still managing the
basha
funds, I wonder if poor Ma is given any money at all for her personal use. When you go home, please give her eight shillings and keep two for yourself.

I remain your affectionate brother,

Dada

CHAPTER

24

There was always some news or other ringing the grapevines of Cambridge. First, there was Attila, the malevolent swan who hid in shadowy willows of the Cam and flapped out to bite innocent bystanders. Attila brought summer activities like punting and fishing along the river to a halt. The proctors, with the help of the townspeople, made several attempts to capture and relocate Attila, but ended up relocating two friendly black swans, while Attila still lurked darkly in the shadows.

The bigger news making the rounds was a scathing article that appeared in the
Archangel
,
a magazine published by a feminist group at Girton, which, along with Newnham, were the two women’s colleges of Cambridge. The article was an exposé on a recent debate held at the Cambridge Union Society, the controversial topic of which was that “Newnham and Girton are useless and dangerous and ought to be abolished.”

Female education was still a contentious issue in Cambridge and the students attempting to earn degrees were jeered at and ridiculed. Cambridge had barred female students for centuries, and the male bastion was not going to give in easily. Biren had assumed the existence of two exclusive women’s colleges would level the playing field, but clearly this was not the case. It was ironic that girls in India had no opportunity for education, while in England they had the opportunity, but that did not necessarily translate into equality.

This prejudice was clearly voiced in the
Archangel
article. The writer described Cambridge male students as a boorish, misogynistic bunch—nothing more than prehistoric creatures under their thin veneers of civility that viewed women only as useful ornaments. The article was signed E.L. Judging by the tone, the author had to be a woman, but there were no existing records of any females in the audience that day.

Biren scrutinized the article.

“It’s brilliantly worded,” he conceded. “I love the sarcasm of the writer. It must be a firsthand account because I was at the debate that day and every argument quoted here is almost verbatim. You can’t write with this kind of detail unless you were present there and taking notes.”

“Some students did notice a fellow taking notes,” said Ram. “He was effeminate-looking, French, I believe, sitting in the second row on the right.”

“Effeminate, you say? How interesting,” mused Biren. “This article is written from a woman’s perspective. What if that fellow was actually a woman disguised as a man?”

“Oh, that’s impossible!” Ram laughed. “A disguise is not an easy thing easy to pull off—onstage, yes, but not in real life. But think of the risk. Which woman would even dare to do it?”

“An interesting woman, for sure,” said Biren. “One with a daredevil streak and a sense of fun. Man or woman, I would love to meet this E.L. person someday.”

Cambridge

18th March 1890

I have been busy working on a stage set for the drama club’s upcoming production of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
. The painted tree cutouts and backdrops are taking a long time to dry, thanks to the inclement weather here. The carpentry workshop where I work is located behind the drama club. It is the meeting place for the theater types. All kinds of people drop by, to play Carrom, chat or borrow something.

Yesterday a rather curious fellow came by. He is overweight with short legs and looks a little frayed about the gills. He introduced himself as Bertie McInnis and asked me if I was Indian. Bertie is a Cambridge dropout who has a passion for the theater. He is part owner of a private theater company called the People’s Playhouse in town. They perform mostly Shakespeare and the occasional burlesque. Bertie is quite a talker. He has heard fascinating stories about India from his uncle, who was a famous surveyor for the British government. His uncle spent several years navigating the remote and dangerous jungles of northeast India, where he almost got scalped by a cannibal tribe! The famous tea-growing region of Assam was mapped out by his uncle’s own hand.

Bertie’s theater company is badly in need of backstage help. He asked me if I could help out on Tuesday evenings for two hours in return for free tickets. Their current production is a popular burlesque called
The Runaway Shopgirl
. I agreed to meet him at the playhouse behind the stables of the Red Roof Inn next week.

Cambridge

24th March 1890

Not only did I help backstage, I got roped into playing a minor role as a railway porter in
The Runaway Shopgirl
. It was easy enough. All I did was wear a brass-buttoned blue uniform and carry bags behind a rather buxom female. Samaresh and a few other Bengali friends to whom I had given free tickets were highly amused to see me. I must admit I rather enjoyed my five seconds of fame. Later Bertie asked me if I would be interested in playing another minor role as a courtier in their upcoming production of
Twelfth Night
. I agreed for the fun of it. I admitted I had not done much acting. He convinced me that learning voice projection and other drama techniques would enhance my debating skills. I suppose he has a point. As long as I don’t have to spend too much time in rehearsals, this could be interesting.

CHAPTER

25

Following a freak storm in mid-April, Biren returned to his room in Brockwell Lodge to find his study desk covered with water from a roof leak. The damage was severe, and he had to vacate his room and look for temporary accommodation while the roof got repaired. His choices were limited. Many students lived in private boardinghouses around the university but the rents were much higher than he could afford.

It was Bertie McInnis who told him about the room for rent at Grantham Manor.