Flood of Fire (12 page)

For Shireen herself Bahram's name had become an open wound, which she tried alternately to soothe, heal and hide – and to hear it uttered now, in tones of such unalloyed affection, was oddly painful.

My husband often spoke of you, she said quietly.

Bahram-bhai was the kindest, most generous of men, said Zadig. It's terrible that he went in this way.

Shireen glanced at her brother and saw that he was squirming in his seat. To listen to praise of Bahram was deeply distasteful to him, she knew, and she guessed that he would gladly have left the room if not for the impropriety of leaving her alone with a stranger. To spare him any further discomfort, she leant over and whispered in Gujarati, telling him that he could slip away if he liked – her maid was outside; he could send her in and tell her to leave the door open. It would be perfectly proper; she was veiled anyway – there was nothing to worry about.

He jumped to his feet immediately. All right, he said. I will leave you here for a few minutes.

The maid came in and seated herself beside the open door, with the curtain drawn. Then Shireen turned her veiled face towards Zadig Bey.

May I ask when you last saw my husband?

About two months before the accident. I left Canton soon after the crisis began. He was amongst those who remained behind.

But why did he stay behind? she said. Can you tell me exactly what happened?

Zaroor Bibiji
.

Zadig went on to explain that in March that year the Chinese authorities had launched an all-out campaign to end the inflow of opium into China. The Emperor had sent a new governor to Canton by the name of Commissioner Lin; shortly after coming to Canton he had given the foreign merchants of the city an ultimatum, ordering them to surrender all the opium on their ships. When they refused he had posted soldiers and boats around the foreign enclave in Canton, cutting it off completely from the outside. The merchants had been given plenty of food and they weren't ill-treated, but the pressure was such that they had ultimately agreed to surrender their goods. After that Commissioner Lin had allowed all but the most important merchants to leave: Bahram was one of those who had been required to remain in Canton. He had stayed on with his entourage in his house, in Canton's foreign enclave.

As you may know, Bibiji, said Zadig, the foreign enclave in Canton has thirteen ‘factories' – or Hongs as they are called over there. They are not really factories – they are more like big caravanserais. Each factory has a number of different apartments and lodgings, which are rented out to foreign merchants according to their means. Bahram always stayed in the same house, in the Fungtai Factory, with his staff. That was where I went to see him.

How was he?

Zadig paused to clear his throat, and when he spoke again it was in the awkward, hesitant tones of someone who is reluctant to convey bad news.

Bibiji, I don't know if I should tell you this, but Bahram-bhai was in a very downcast state of mind when I saw him. He seemed quite ill to be truthful. I asked his munshi what the matter was, and he said Bahram-bhai rarely left his daftar: apparently he spent his days sitting by the window, in a chair, watching the Maidan outside.

Grief was welling up in Shireen now; she began to knead the hem of her sari with her fingers.

It is hard for me to believe all this, Zadig Bey. My husband was a man who could never sit still.

He was weighed down by his worries, Bibiji, and it's not surprising. He stood to lose a great deal of money and of course he was worried about his debts.

Zadig coughed into his fist.

I am sure you know, Bibiji, that nothing mattered to him more than his family. That was his religion – his second religion, I should say.

Shireen reached under her veil to wipe away her tears: Yes, I know that.

Zadig continued: That Bahram-bhai's health suffered is not surprising. He was already quite weak when I saw him, but still, I could not believe it when I heard that he had fallen from the deck of the
Anahita
. That is the last thing one would expect of a man who had so much experience of sailing. And the worst part of it is that if he had only lived a little longer he would have known that his losses would be recouped.

Shireen was suddenly alert: You mean there will be compensation for the losses?

Zadig nodded: the foreign merchants had set up a fund, he said, to put pressure on the British government to take action against the Chinese. The merchants had all contributed a dollar for every chest of opium confiscated by Commissioner Lin. A large sum of money had been collected and sent to Mr William Jardine, in London. Jardine was the biggest of the China traders and he had been making very good use of the money; he had paid off many Members of Parliament and a horde of newspapermen. Nothing like that had ever been seen before – merchants and seths using their money to buy up the government! So many speeches had been made, and so many articles had been published that now every Englishman was convinced that Commissioner Lin was a monster. It was rumoured that on Jardine's advice the British government was preparing to send an expeditionary force to China. The seizure of the opium was to be their reason for declaring war so it was quite certain that they would demand reparations.

Here Zadig leant forward in his seat: You must make sure, Bibiji, he said, that Bahram-bhai's claims are not overlooked when it is time for the money to be divided.

Stifling a sob, Shireen explained that this was exactly the problem: she had no one to represent her; her brothers and sons-in-law were busy with their own affairs and could not spare the time for a year-long journey to China.

There is no one to fill my husband's shoes, Zadig Bey – no son, no heir, and in a way he himself is to blame.

What do you mean, Bibiji?

Shireen was now so distraught, and Zadig's presence was so comforting, that without quite meaning to she began to talk about something that she had never before spoken of with anyone.

Zadig Bey, there is something you perhaps do not know: my husband had some sort of problem, something physical, that prevented him from begetting a son. We were told this by a sadhu who had cured many such cases; he offered to cure my husband too, but he just laughed it off. If he had taken the matter more seriously maybe things would have been different now.

Having listened intently to Shireen's words, Zadig fell into a ruminative silence. When he spoke again it was in English. ‘Can I ask you a question, Bibiji?'

Shireen glanced at him in surprise and he made a gesture of warning, inclining his head in the direction of the maid. ‘May I ask you something?'

‘Yes,' she said. ‘Please. Go on.'

‘May I ask if Bibiji ever leaves the house?'

The question took Shireen by surprise. ‘Why do you ask?'

‘Let me put it like this: how might it be possible to speak to you in private, away from the hearing of your family and servants?'

She thought quickly. ‘Thursday is the anniversary of the death of Mrs O'Brien, my English tutor. I will go to Nossa Senhora da Gloria Church to light a candle for her.'

‘The Catholic church in Mazagon?'

‘Yes.'

‘What time?'

She could hear her brother's footsteps in the corridor now and she lowered her voice. ‘Eleven o'clock, in the morning.'

He nodded and lowered his voice to a whisper: ‘I will be there.'

*

Tears came into young Kesri's eyes as he watched Bhyro Singh's cart receding into the distance: it was as if his own hopes were being ground to dust under its wheels.

No one had listened to the havildar's words with greater attention than Kesri: the arguments about caste and religion had mattered little to him, but his observations on weaponry and tactics had made a profound impression, re-moulding Kesri's soldierly aspirations: no longer did he want merely to be a bearer of arms; it was the Company's army, the havildar's battalion, that he wanted to join. The attractions of the old ways of fighting had been scorched from his head: this new kind of war was much more attractive. This was what real soldiering was about: winning, adapting, out-thinking the enemy, and through it all, also making money.

That his brother Bhim had turned down such an opportunity seemed almost beyond belief to Kesri. Later, when they were out of earshot of their father, Kesri said to Bhim:
Batavo
– tell me, why didn't you go with Havildar Bhyro Singh? Was it because you're afraid of Babuji?

No, said Bhim, with a shake of his head. It's Bhyro Singh I'm afraid of. I would rather go with a demon than with that man.

But why do you say that? Can't you see how good the Company's terms are?

Bhim merely shrugged and shuffled his feet.

If only, said Kesri bitterly, if only I'd been in your place.

Why? said Bhim. What would you have done? Would you have gone with Bhyro Singh?

Kesri nodded, blinking back the tears that had boiled up in his eyes. If I were in your place, said Kesri, I would not have wasted one moment. I would be on that cart right now, with them …

If the desire to leave had been a dull ache before, it was now a fever raging in Kesri's belly. The heat of it curdled the rich food he had eaten that morning and he vomited in full view of his family.

In a way this was a blessing, for it gave him an excuse to keep to himself. He spent the rest of the day lying on his mat and went
to sleep early. Next morning, when it came time to leave for the Naga sadhus' mela he could not stomach the prospect of having to sit aside as Bhim received blessings for his journey to Delhi: pleading illness, Kesri stayed at home.

After the others had left, Kesri ferreted out his father's stock of opium and tucked a pinch of it in his cheek. He soon fell asleep, and although he woke briefly when the others returned, he did not stir from his mat. Night had already fallen so no one came to rouse him and he soon drifted off again.

When next he woke it was very late and his brother was whispering in his year:
Uthelu Kesri-bhaiya
, wake up – come outside!

Still groggy from the opium, Kesri held on to his brother's elbow and followed him through the sleeping house, to the charpoys under the mango tree.

Listen, Kesri-bhaiya, Bhim whispered. You have to hurry – Bhyro Singhji is waiting for you.

Ka kahrelba?
Kesri rubbed his sleepy eyes with his knuckles. What are you talking about?

Yes, said Bhim. It's true. I spoke to Bhyro Singhji at the mela today: I told him that you wanted to join the Company's army but that Babuji does not wish it and wouldn't give his permission. He said that Babuji's wishes do not concern him at all. Babuji is not his relative, and he doesn't care about his views. Calcutta is too far for Babuji to do anything about it.

Kesri was suddenly wide awake: So what did you say?

I told him that if you left without Babuji's permission you would have no money or equipment, or even a horse. He said that this too would not matter – a horse is not necessary because they are travelling to Calcutta by boat. As for other necessities, he will give you a loan, to be paid back later.

And then?

He said that if you were sure in your mind that you want to go, then you should meet him and his men at the ghat by the river, at dawn. That is when their boat will be sailing. They will be waiting for you.
Der na hoi
– don't be late.

Is this true? cried Kesri. Are you sure?

Yes, Kesri-bhaiya. Dawn is not so far off. If you start walking you will be there in time to meet them.

Desperate though he was to leave, Kesri was reluctant to leave his brother to face their father's wrath alone. But Bhim reassured him, saying that he would be all right, their father wouldn't know of his part in arranging Kesri's departure so he would suffer no consequences. To the contrary he might even stand to benefit, because with Kesri gone he might well be asked to stay on at home, which would suit him nicely. In all likelihood Kesri would himself be forgiven once he started sending money home.

Kesri had never known his brother to think anything through so carefully. Was it you who came up with this plan? he said. Did you think of it yourself?

Bhim shook his head. Me? No. It was Deeti. It was all her doing. She told me to seek out Bhyro Singhji and she told me exactly what to say to him. She thought of everything. Even this.

He handed over a cloth bundle: It is a spare dhoti and some sattu. That is all you'll need. Now hurry!