Revolutionary Hearts (10 page)

He set to work picking up pieces of wood outside the official camp. The men who had introduced themselves as Ashfaqulla and Bismil were not far away.

Ashfaqulla strapped his lanky arm around Warren’s shoulder. “How does a white man like you end up fighting an Indian’s battle?”

He stiffened, but Ashfaqulla patted his back in a reassuring manner. “I mean you no harm. Do not worry; your secret is safe. Raj told us who you are.”

“It is Parineeta, is it not?” Bismil pointed in the direction of the camp behind Warren. “She is your reason for joining us.”

“I have several reasons,” Warren responded in unaccented Hindi. Even if they knew he was a foreigner, there was no reason to act like one. “She was never one of them before.”

“Ah, but she is a reason now! It is only a matter of time before two people who embark on a journey together share their souls. Your situation is fit for poetry.” Ashfaqulla grinned. He held up his other hand in the air and swept it in her direction. “She likes you too, it seems. She keeps looking over here.”

Warren glanced back at the camp. Parineeta stood next to some of the other men, but her gaze was focused on him. Her eyes widened when they locked with his, as if caught in a criminal act. She inclined her head away, and he could already see the beginning of a bright flush bloom at the tops of her cheeks.

Unbidden hope surged within his chest.

After the fire was built, the men unpacked what little food they had and shared it among themselves. The smells of biryani, potatoes, and spices filled the air. Discussion of paneer swung into debates of politics as the food dwindled down and the embers of the fire continued to flicker.

“Non-violence should be the first method we attempt,” Parineeta instructed the group of men. All of the revolutionaries listened in silence. Ashfaqulla had finished his prayers for the day and joined the circle around Parineeta to hear her as well. While the other men said nothing to contradict her, they shifted around the fire and threw glances at one other, their faces displaying unease.

Caste and race and religion didn’t matter in this independence movement. The garb of the men around the fire all suggested different economic backgrounds. The desire to be free surpassed all other differences.

“But how can we continue to be non-violent, sister, when they attack us with clubs?” Raj spun the gun in his hand, watching the flames dance across the shining barrel of his revolver. “We’ve waited long enough. These soft expressions of non-violence may win us sympathy, but it will not win us independence.”

“He is right!” Bismil tapped his fist against his other palm. He stood up as he continued. “We must use guns for this robbery!”

Parineeta held up one hand in a halting motion but kept her voice even. “We may use them to threaten the soldiers but not to kill anyone. Fighting fire with fire will only result in the whole world in flames. We do not want to cause suffering in India, only peace within our borders.”

“Bullets will achieve peace,” Raj deadpanned. He looked up from his gun and inclined his head in Warren’s direction. “What do you think of using violence for tomorrow’s robbery?”

“Violence may lead to anarchy. If your mission is to remove the concept of a state entirely, then violence will serve.” Warren studied Raj’s expression.

To his surprise, the young revolutionary widened his eyes at Warren’s statement. “Is that what you think of us? Anarchists?” He chewed the last of his meal for several seconds, as if mulling over the words. “We want a government of self-rule. We wish to unite India under one government, not destroy India’s unification.”

Warren had found no concrete evidence of Raj Singh’s anarchist influence, and here he was, declaring that he had no interest in anarchy! Perhaps the NBCI had the wrong information. Still, it was better to wait it out and see what else Raj admitted about his independence movement.

“No one should be harmed. The guns should be used simply as a threat.” Warren glanced at Parineeta. “She has a point. Violence will only cause more of the British to be angry at you without understanding your cause.”

“Hear, hear!” Ashfaqulla clapped. “I approve of what this man says. Violence as necessary but not as the first option.” He nudged Parineeta, who sat next to him. “You have found a man with wise advice.”

Her forehead creased at his words. She cut a quick glare at Warren as if he’d said something explicitly inappropriate. Before he could apologize for something he hadn’t said, she excused herself from the circle.

He stood and followed her. A few cries and teases came from the other men, but he ignored them.

The moonlight shined through the tops of the trees, and the leaves cast scattered shadows along the forest floor. Parineeta stood in a clearing a few yards away from the main part of the camp, her arms folded across her chest.

He cleared his throat.

“Why did you follow me?”

“I came to see if you were all right.”

“I am.” She lifted her chin. “Now go.”

He smirked.
Always so proud.
He decided to press his luck and stepped closer to Parineeta. “They listen to you. All of the men do.”

She tapped her foot and drew her sari tighter around her. “What are you talking about?”

“They respect you.”

“That doesn’t mean they will…” She shook her head. “Forget it.”

The words left unsaid hung in the air. She’d said none of the other men from her village wished to marry her, but surely she could see that they admired her intelligence. Could she see how he admired her? “I respect you.”

The foot tapping stopped, and her shoulders drooped. “What do you respect about me?”

“That you are independent. You’re fiery. You aren’t afraid to voice your opinions, and that’s what causes people to listen to you. You’re not afraid of anything.” Warren suddenly realized that he could continue on and on about all the reasons. It was a new feeling, this ability to speak so much about someone. He moved toward her, half-expecting her to walk away.

She stood rooted to the spot instead. He couldn’t see her face, but her voice trembled. “I am not used to anyone being so forward.”

“Maybe no one ever expressed himself before.”

She looked up toward the sky. “You are wrong.”

Warren closed the distance between them. He could hear her breathing, heavy and uneven. “About what?”

“Not being afraid.” She turned around. The pale moonlight splashed across her face, the gentle, white light highlighting her cheekbones. “I am afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

He kissed her full lips again, lightly at first. The moonlight shined between the treetops above them, forming a spotlight on where they stood. He felt her fingers run through his hair, weaving down the sides and toward the nape of his neck.

She keened against his lips, and he felt his lower half tighten at the sound. Still, he resisted the urge to pull her closer. What if she feared him taking advantage of her? He couldn’t risk losing her trust so soon.

But she pressed against him anyway, wrapping both of her legs around his waist as he held her up. She turned her head to the side, and her neck lay exposed before him. He leaned downward, laying her body against the grass. Her eyelids were shut, and rays of moonlight bathed over both of them.

She overwhelmed him.

Her wavy hair splayed out against the grass, loose and wild. He wrapped a dark tendril around his finger, curling the lock toward the base.

Parineeta arched against him, and he groaned before he could stop himself. This woman would drive him mad. His lips found the juncture of her neck and shoulder blade, where he peppered insistent kisses. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck and pressed his body closer to hers.

As the pale moonlight washed both of them in serene light, he held Parineeta’s soft body in his arms and realized that she wasn’t the only one who was afraid. All his life, he’d lived recklessly with nothing holding him back.

But now he had someone to lose. Someone that was more beautiful and clever and indispensable than anyone else he’d ever met. He wasn’t just afraid.

He was terrified.

Sunlight streamed through the cracks beneath Parineeta’s eyelids, distracting her from sleep. She groaned, turning over to the side to edge closer to the warm comfort of Warren … and found cold ground.

Her eyes flickered open. Her sari lay over her, covering her entire body. Its faded green nearly blended in with the color of the grass beneath her. She pulled the veil over her head as she sat up.

Wind rustled through the tree branches, but the cool breeze contrasted the otherwise damp heat that surrounded her. She stood up, inspecting the area. The grass was flattened from where she and Warren had fallen asleep.
Aye Bhagwan
, what had possessed her?

She bit her lip. Scorching heat, entangled limbs, desperate release. Everything had seemed so perfect in that moment. The harsh light of day cast an entirely different illumination on the night before.

She joined the other men loading their guns. Warren spoke to her brother apart from the others in a hushed tone. His eyes locked with hers. Neither said a word. Was she supposed to start the conversation? Did he think her a fool for spending the night with him?

Her brother, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed to see her. “Sister! Where were you last night? Warren said he went to look for you and then returned back to the camp.”

“I was … resting underneath a better place in the moonlight.” Parineeta shot a silent look of gratitude to Warren. At least her brother didn’t know. “I must have fallen asleep and not realized it.”

“Well, we’re all here now.” Bismil made a final count of the men. Seeming satisfied, he picked up his guns from the ground. “Station’s this way.” He headed down one of the worn paths twisting through the trees, and the other men followed.

Warren walked ahead with her brother, leaving her to trail the group from the back. She tried to smother the waves of disappointment rolling through her heart. So he no longer wanted to talk to her? He’d abandoned her after all.

How could she be so foolish? To think she’d believed he’d cared about her, when all he’d desired from her was her body. Her fingers trembled at the truth. She had made her mother’s mistake.

• • •

They boarded the Number 8 Down train at Shahjahanpur with little ceremony. Dev, one of her brother’s closest friends, had planned most of the robbery. All the money was in a safe placed in the railway guard’s carriage. Dev had forced the group to commit the facts to memory over the fire the previous night.

They’d even planned who would sit in which area of the train and how many would be in each compartment. Dev, Parineeta, and Warren all sat together in the center of the train.

Dev placed one arm over Parineeta’s shoulder as soon as they sat down. He performed a quick scan of the people sitting around them, checking to make sure no stray ears heard their plans. “I want you to be the one to pull the train to an emergency stop.”

She glanced at the drooping chain hung above each of the windows, the chain that would set their plan in motion. “I will. Raj already told me.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “There is something else I must ask you.”

She tried to shift her shoulder out from under Dev’s hold, but he still held his arm in place. Her back stiffened against the wooden seat. Dev had never gripped her with such firmness before.

“This will come as a surprise to you.” He brushed his mustache with one hand, then pulled aside one of the curtains to peer out the window. “But I have asked your brother for your hand in marriage.”

What? He had to be joking! She checked Dev’s face for any hint of humor. She’d always thought he was handsome, but there was nothing about him that attracted her as more than a friend. “Dev…”

Warren stood suddenly and headed toward the door, leading to the space separating the different areas of the train. He didn’t glance back at her.

“You don’t have to decide right now.” Dev shushed her. “I know your blood makes this marriage less than desirable, Parineeta, but I am willing to overlook that.”

She clenched her fists into the material of her sari. Her blood was not dirty. “I would never marry a man who defines me by my race.”

Dev’s tone became firm. His grip on her shoulder tightened. “I have watched you for a while now.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment? She stared out the window for several moments, watching the flattened plains roll by. India’s independence was her priority, not whether or not a man ‘watched’ her.

“I was conflicted because of your half-caste status … no one else will marry you.”

Through gritted teeth, she managed to respond. “That does not matter.”

“You must take my offer.”

The British soldier’s words echoed in the back of her mind.
No one would dare marry a half-blood coolie
.

“Dev, I will sit here and do your bidding and pull down the emergency stop when you signal for me to do so.” She kept her voice low to avoid drawing attention from the other passengers, but she wanted nothing better than to slap him across the face. “But after this, I never want to speak to you again.”

Dev scowled. He stood up and walked in the opposite direction of where Warren had gone, no doubt headed to meet Bismil and check on the compartment which held the money.

“You will regret this,” he said before he slammed the door shut.

Other passengers seemed alarmed at the outburst, and several gave her pitying looks. She ignored the whispers around her. So much for trying not to draw attention to herself.

Parineeta continued to sit still for a few moments longer. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She would rather marry no one than marry someone who refused to see beyond her birth. At the moment, the only person who could make sense of the situation was Warren. She needed to hear his vote of confidence in her, even if he didn’t say the words. With a sigh, she rose to find him.

She opened the door to the next compartment to see Warren standing just outside. One of his hands gripped the railing while both eyes were fixed on the rolling landscape before them as the train sped by the dry plains.