In the Shadow of a Dream (25 page)

‘But that’s not what I want, Sir.’

‘You mean that? I was going to have you sent back to your Regiment.’

‘Sir, am I to understand then, the Rathore Lancers are to see action?’

‘No, they’re part of a heavy tank armoured division. We need light tanks. If any.’

‘I’d rather be here, sir.’

‘I can arrange that, if you so wish. Could do with a chap like you. Be my ADC. Not for long. Just so that, when later, I’ve good reasons for posting you back here.’

Chapter Eleven
 

‘A
nd how old are you now?’

‘Forty-four, sir.’

The Brigadier looked up. ‘Good Lord! I’m forty-one. You look years younger. I take pride in keeping fit. What’s you secret? Squash?’

‘No sir, I’m a runner. Sorry, was. Long distance.’

‘Hmm. When did…’ He turned a page in the file before him. ‘I see. You’ve been a Major for ten years. That’s rather long for…for one with excellent reports. And I gather, extremely bright. “Bit of a loner” this one says. We’ll pass on that.’ Brigadier Chopra grinned, shut the file and threw it into his desk drawer. ‘You’re here for two years, and I go by first impressions. I like what I see.’ He extended his hand, shook Dusty’s and grunted. ‘This is your second stint as a liaison officer? Good. Welcome to Four Brigade. Our base is Pathankot, but have picquets in Dharamsala, Mcleodganj and two others on the Dhauladhar range towards Dalhousie. That’s our beat. Other Army Units deployed here may want to borrow your expertise. But you will have a considerable amount of freedom. I mean regarding parades and routine.’ He lifted his telephone receiver and pressed a button. A connecting door opened, and a tall, very dark officer, sporting a luxuriant moustache walked in. ‘Ah! There you are. Meet our new liaison chappie. Major Sam Dustoor meet Major Vikram Dutt.’

‘Hello, Dusty.’

‘Vicky!’

‘You know each other?’ The Brigadier raised his brows. Dusty nodded.

‘I met Dusty in Ooty,’ Vikram said, ‘we were on a Field officer’s course together. And later in Calcutta.’

‘Well, you see Dustoor, you’re not the only Major stuck with ten years. I…’ The telephone rang. The Brigadier lifted the receiver. ‘Chopra here…’

Dusty and Vikram began a discreet retreat. The Brigadier covered the receiver: ‘Stay! No secrets in this office.’ A moment later he put the phone down. ‘Is my jeep outside? Good. See you this evening at the reception. Vicky’ll explain.’ Chopra rose, donned his beret, picked up his cane and marched out of his office.

‘Viks! He has a black beret. Which Cavalry Regiment was he in?’

‘Trust you cavalry chaps to notice something like that. Skinners. Now, I’ll fill you in on our way to the MO. It’s better this way, so you can take in all the info you need as you meet it full on. The MO is Colonel R.P. Bhalla. Just Raj or RP to Majors and above. He insists. Bluff chap. Can be a bit rough during medical examinations.’

‘Do I need a medical?’

‘Have you had your jabs? You have. Then it’s the usual stuff. Forms to fill. By the way, thanks for walking slower. How’s your old wound getting on?’

‘Fine.’ Dusty slapped the back of his right thigh. ‘It was unnecessary to spend two months in the Military Hospital and another two weeks for observation.’

‘One could get lost in Calcutta’s Military Hospital. Beside I think they forgot all about us. You got it in the right, I got it in the left. Bloody hand grenades. Once the pin is off…I mean there’s nothing one can do in seven seconds.’

‘You got the worst of it,’ Dusty said. He had noted Vikram’s slight limp.’

‘Could’ve been fatal. I’ll never forget that Dusty. I heard you shout to that
jawan
not to remove the pin. Then you threw yourself on me. It was a deafening…’

‘The explosion? You don’t have to remind me. I couldn’t hear for two days.’

‘Madness. One came out of active operations unscathed, only to get wounded due to a silly mistake by one of our own chaps.’

‘You were Major at least four years before me, and you’re that many years younger. I don’t think Chopra realised that.’

Vikram stopped walking. ‘That’s the obstacle course. Opposite, tennis and squash courts; also the swimming pool.’ He faced Dusty. ‘You must be near six feet.’

Dusty shook his head. ‘Actually, five nine.’

‘I’m six, exact. Rare for a Bengali. What made you smile?’

‘It’s the second time someone over-estimated my height. A long time ago, when I was at Tejpore. A beautiful woman. She was Bengali.’

‘Tejpore. You don’t mean Minnie? Minnie Sen Gupta. Good grief. They’ve settled in Australia. About ten years now. He was terribly British.’

They started to walk again. And for a while neither spoke. Then Dusty asked. ‘I say, what and where is this reception?’

‘I hadn’t forgotten. I’ll take you there and show you the place.’ A jeep drew up alongside them. ‘I told Kashi Ram to drop the Brigadier and get back to us. Get in.’ He tapped Kashi Ram on the shoulder, ‘Black Elephant Institute.’
Then to Dusty
.
‘It’s in town. Was The Railway Club. We’ve spruced it up and built a dance floor that goes like a ring round a tree, a
chenar—
the Indian plane tree. Do you dance?’

‘Yes. Not terribly keen. Do I have to attend?’

‘Nothing’s compulsory for you, but you must, this once. The Brigadier will say a word or two to welcome you. And I’d like you to meet my wife, Shalini. It is, I’m afraid, a black tie event, but that won’t be a problem. I’ve detailed Mansingh to be your batman. Damn good chap. He’ll help you settle down and see that your dinner jacket is pressed and your shoes shining like mirrors. You’ll have your own jeep.’

‘There’s no hurry. As long as I get a lift tonight.’

‘I’ll see to that. It won’t be me. I’ve got Shalini and her English friend, who, until recently, worked in a small primary school for local children in Mcleodganj. Most are Tibetan, so Shalini tells me. She helped in the school, when we were in Mcleodganj.’

‘English, did you say, this friend. Is she a missionary?’

‘I wouldn’t know. I’ll be seeing her for the first time. Anyway, she gave up, which isn’t the missionary way. I’m told she lives in a remote corner off the road leading to Dalhousie. Comes to Dharamsala on a pony, but she’ll have to get here by bus. Save all your questions for when you meet her tonight.’ Vikram punched Dusty in the ribs and brushed his moustache above a sly grin. ‘Keep the conversation light. I expected that from you when we were in hospital, all those years ago. Instead you ranted about Plato and Aristotle.’

‘At the time I was reading Russell’s
History of Western Philosophy
.’

‘And you’re going to dance. Books and literary chat is off the menu. Damn it, it’s time you found yourself a wife. I’m being family; an elder brother.’

‘Elder!’

‘What’s a few years between friends. Anyway, don’t talk age. You’re so bloody young looking. I’ll introduce you to Nirmala, she is the daughter of…

‘Don’t you dare! I’ll do my own foraging and, before you ask, yes, I’ve known a few women, not in the biblical sense…Indian women are great ones for the giggles, single ones especially. Puts me off. I suppose that’s its purpose—a defence against seduction. And behind the giggler I see a mother ready to pounce on one, cram a
luddoo
in your mouth and announce we’re engaged; now sign up and name the wedding day.’

‘What do you mean by “in the biblical sense”. Remember, I’m not a Christian.’

‘You’ll have to work that one out. Anyway, thanks, but no thank you. Viks, this is India. Sex outside marriage is nil, except at a price, if one goes after women who walk slowly…’

‘Prostitutes? I like the way you put things. I’m impressed; always have been.’

‘Don’t be. Nothing I say is original. Second-hand from books, films, people.’

‘That applies to all of us. But you have this fantastic memory. So, have you been to these, you know, women, and if you haven’t, how do you manage?’

‘You don’t expect me to tell you.’

‘No, but I hate to imagine.’

‘At my age, what you imagine would be absurd. I’m as much Hindu as Christian. For Hindus, marriage is a rite of passage from bachelor-hood into family life, and why for that reason there’s pressure to marry soon after puberty.’

‘Everything in Hinduism allows for hypocrisy. As long as you’re eligible, and no one’s going to believe your age, even if they did, it wouldn’t go against you. Your future wife might even be grateful.’ Vikram grinned wickedly. ‘Your love for books has always made you a sober sort of guy. Remember our expedition together, in Cal? I’d introduced you to a nice Anglo-Indian nurse? Afterwards she told me, you talked all evening about Operation Overlord and the Normandy Landings.’

‘Good listener she was, too. Sex is overrated. Masturbation faintly ludicrous, and when the desire arises, a good book is the perfect antidote.’

‘Arises being the operative word,’ Vikram said and they laughed,

‘Also, Viks, with the passing of years, libido grows less. Damn it I’m forty-four, and aim soon to retire. I have plans.’

‘Forty-four is nothing, not with your physique. Pity the girl at the butt end of your pent-up libido! But I’ll agree, in India, sex life begins and ends with marriage. But I suppose in time it will change…not necessarily for the better.’

After a thoughtful pause Dusty said. ‘Oh, by the way, I’m not all that proud of my “fantastic memory”, inverted commas. It’ll pass and go away with time. So medical books say. I’ve taken to reading books on medicine. Just read from cover to cover
The Oxford Textbook of Medicine
. Found an old copy in Bombay’s Thieves Market
, Chor bazzar
.’

‘Good Lord, if I saw that sort of book, I’d pass by on the other side.’

‘So you do know the Bible. Were you trying to tempt me into a confession?’

Vikram shrugged. ‘Got that from Westcott School, in Cal.’ He gestured with his cane as the jeep turned up the drive of a large, white stuccoed bungalow. ‘Right, here we are. The wettest bar in a dry country.’ He sniggered. ‘Now, don’t forget, you’ll be sitting with us at our reserved table. Let’s go in.’

‘Is there a billiards table?’

‘Oh, yes. Two. And an excellent marker. He’s been there forever.’

‘Then Viks, when you have done with dancing and can bear to wrench an hour away from Shalini, give me a game of billiards. It’s been years.’

‘Will do, dear boy, will do, after I’ve seen you on the floor. I’m curious to know, and meant to ask: do you have a scar? You know, at the back of your thigh?’

‘Not noticeably. I was lucky. Somehow, when we fell, you rolled on top of me. The bloody grenade only partially exploded, or neither of us would be here.’

‘You’re late, Dusty. What held you? Chopra’s been wondering if you got lost.’

‘No one’s fault, Viks. To borrow a joke, flat battery gets you nowhere. The jeep engine died on the way. Kashi Ram had to flag down another vehicle to jump start the bloody thing. But it’s not the battery, if you ask me. The dynamo isn’t charging.’

‘Anyway you’re here, that’s the important thing. Wait here. Let me tell Chops. I’ll be back, unless you want to find our table and introduce yourself.’

‘No, Viks, I’ll wait for you.’

A moment later Vikram returned. ‘All’s well that ends well. Chopra’s perked up when I explained. He’s going to welcome you, officially, at dinner, after the toast to the President.’ They moved between numbered round tables of seated guests. ‘Like your jacket, Dusty, who tailored it?’

‘Leach and Webborney, of Poonah. Now defunct. What’s our table number?’

‘Nine. There, can you see. He waved. What’s the matter, Dusty, you look dazed?’

Dusty had frozen to a standstill. ‘Oh my God! It can’t be. It’s not possible.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘The woman at your table…next to…I presume, that’s Shalini, waving to you?’

‘Yes, my wife. And that’s her friend Kitty. I can see she’s wacked you between the eyes. That smashing maroon dress is the talk of…I should’ve prepared you for this. Good grief, looking at you, it’s a knock-out.’