Swimming in the Monsoon Sea (8 page)

Amrith cleared his throat loudly.
“Will you … come to bed, my lord?”

“Have you prayed tonight, Desdemona?”

“Ay, my lord.”
Amrith could tell he was doing terribly, his voice colorless and weak.

“If you bethink yourself of any crime

Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace
,

Solicit for it straight,”
Suraj said.

“Alack, my lord, what may you mean by that?”
Amrith realized that his arms were shaking again, the book
jiggling in his hand. He pressed his elbow against his side to steady himself.

Suraj continued on with his lines.

“Well, do it and be brief. I will walk by
,

I would not kill thy unprepared spirit
.

No, heaven forfend, I will not
—”

There was a crash as Amrith’s book slipped between his fingers and fell to the floor. He leapt out of bed and hurriedly searched around for it in the semidarkness of the stage. He finally found his
Othello
and straightened up.

“Do you want to start again, De Alwis?” Madam called out from the front row.

He nodded dumbly. He went to take his position again on the bed. As he passed Suraj, the senior patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “We’re all rooting for you, De Alwis. Just relax and you’ll be fine.”

But Amrith was too upset by now to salvage his performance. He went through the audition, his voice pale and lifeless, his acting wooden.

Finally it was over.

“Thank you, De Alwis.” There was a kindness in Madam’s voice that deadened him.

Amrith stumbled towards the steps that led down into the auditorium. Peries was crossing the stage at the same time and, as he passed Amrith, he smiled triumphantly.

Peries strutted over to the bed, lay down, and signaled Suraj that he could start his monologue whenever he wanted.

The moment Peries said his first line, Amrith knew he had lost the part.

When Peries was finally done, there was silence in the auditorium. The silence of resignation. All the boys saw that the role would have to go to Peries.

The auditions were now over. Madam, along with her right-hand man, Fernando, went out of the auditorium to discuss the casting of roles. Amrith stared at the floor, knowing that he had lost Desdemona and would be assigned Cassio.

After a short while, Madam and Fernando returned. She called to the boys and they gathered around her. She began to read out the cast, leaving the roles of Desdemona and Cassio until the end. After she had assigned all the other parts, Madam was silent, looking at her hands. “With regards to Desdemona, I feel the need to make some explanation about my choice.” She glanced around at them. “De Alwis, as you all saw, did not do well, although he is a good actor. Peries, on the other hand, gave an excellent audition. It is fair that he be given the role.”

Amrith clutched his hands together tightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. There was a murmur of disappointment from the other boys.

Madam held up her hand to indicate she was not finished. “On the other hand, I am sure you remember how Peries left us in the lurch, a few weeks before our performance of
Romeo and Juliet
. If it wasn’t for De Alwis stepping into the role and doing a magnificent job, our school would have lost to St. Stephen’s.”

The boys nodded in agreement.

“As you know,” Madam continued, “this is a very important year, with a judge from the Royal Shakespeare Company no less. I cannot afford to take the chance that anything might go wrong. Peries’ audition was superior, but can we rely on him?”

They all watched her expectantly. Amrith leaned forward in his seat.

“The role of Desdemona thus goes to De Alwis —”

The boys cheered and Amrith gasped, hardly able to believe what he had heard. They began to pat him on the back, and he blushed with joy and pleasure.

Madam called for them to be silent. “Boys, I am not done yet. I wanted to say that the role of Desdemona goes to De Alwis only for now.”

Amrith frowned, not understanding.

“Peries will be assigned Cassio, but will also learn the role of Desdemona and shadow De Alwis. Then, in a few weeks, based on how you do, De Alwis, the role will remain yours or not.”

Amrith felt his euphoria diminish. He would have to prove himself or he could end up with Cassio. He silently vowed that he would work very hard and not lose the role of Desdemona.

The boys were going out to a restaurant for lunch. Before they left, Amrith went to use the toilet and, when he came back, he found that they were teasing Peries again — this time about the role of Cassio. Amrith, having missed a part of the conversation, was not sure what exactly the ragging
was about, but Peries was clearly disturbed, though he was trying his best to hide it.

“But you know, Penis, I’m not making it up,” Jayasingha, the assistant head prefect said, with a conspiratorial look at Suraj, who winked back. “The lines about Cassio lying with Iago in bed are right there in act 3, scene 3. Turn to it and see for yourself. It’s in bold print.”

“I don’t believe you.” Peries shook his head.

“Aday
, Penis, didn’t you read the whole play before you came for rehearsal?” Ahmed, who was to play Iago, asked. “Everybody else read the whole play.”

The boys nodded, though Amrith doubted they had. Seeing the smug look on Fernando’s face, Amrith suspected that he was the only one who had read the play. Fernando had, no doubt, alerted the other boys to whatever went on in act 3, scene 3.

Suraj gestured at Peries. “I say, open your damn book and see for yourself, men.”

Peries did not do so. He stood up, said he was going to the toilet, and left. The other boys watched him go, then grinned at each other. They gave him a few moments. Then Suraj and Jayasingha crept out. There was a shout of triumph, a hoot of laughter. They came back followed by a shamefaced Peries, Suraj holding up Peries’ copy of
Othello
that he had been flipping through in the corridor. The other boys laughed and began to whistle, making kissing sounds at Peries. Ahmed tried to embrace Peries. “Cassio, you can lie with me anytime.”

Peries pushed him away and stormed out of the auditorium, followed by catcalls and hoots. Amrith had no idea what they were teasing Peries about, but he could not help feeling glad to see his rival discomfited.

Amrith discovered that Madam, too, understood the joke about Cassio.

When they had returned to the auditorium after lunch, and were seated in a circle, ready to do a read-through, Peries raised his hand and said, “Madam, I wish to give up my part.”

All the boys tittered and a mischievous glint entered Madam’s eyes. “And why is that, Peries? Cassio is a very good role.”

The boys giggled. Some of them guffawed.

“Peries,” Madam continued, “you are perfect for Cassio. I need someone who is poetic looking. And you have such lovely fair skin, such pretty curls.”

The boys clutched their sides with silent hilarity; some of them had tears running down their faces. Even Amrith could not help smiling, though he still did not know what this was all about.

Peries’ face was red from having to bite back his fury. “But I don’t want to do it, Madam. I would rather play a guard than play Cassio.”

“Nonsense,” Madam said, opening her copy of
Othello
. “I don’t want to hear any more about this, Peries. Wanigasekera, read!”

Since there was still a possibility Amrith could end up playing Cassio, he had a look at act 3, scene 3, the moment he got home. It was the point in the plot when Iago told Othello that he had shared a bed with Cassio, and how, during the night, Cassio had murmured in his sleep of his love for Desdemona and cursed Othello for having her. Iago also told Othello that Cassio mistook Iago for Desdemona and held Iago’s hand in his, kissed him hard on the lips over and over again, embraced him, and pressed his leg over Iago’s thigh.

Amrith was sure this was what the boys had teased Peries about. He did not understand why Peries was so outraged by what Cassio had done mistakenly in his sleep. Still, Amrith felt even more uneasy now about ending up with that part.

Madam was going away with her family for a holiday and there would be no further rehearsals for three weeks. Amrith promised himself that he would use this time to work diligently on his role.

T
he climate in August depended on whether the monsoon had spent itself or not; whether it had arrived at all. This year, the monsoon was late and it lingered into August, much to everyone’s despair. Instead of the rain cooling down the heat, it only caused the air to be thick with moisture. The inhabitants of Colombo moved sluggishly, as if pushing at the yellow humidity before them. The lush growth in the gardens and on the sides of the streets was rotting with too much water, the hibiscus a diluted pink.

Over the next few days, Amrith found that, without rehearsals, time hung heavy on him. In the past, he and the girls would do things together during their holidays, like going for bicycle rides and walks along the beach, or to a film at the Majestic Cinema and to Gillo’s for ice-cream sundaes. But in the last year, as the girls grew older, they had begun to develop their own interests and social circles
into which he did not fit. Amrith felt he had been abandoned by the girls; he could not help being angry at them and secretly envious of their busy lives. He rehearsed his part as much as he could, but he soon grew bored with repeating the lines over and over to himself. Somehow the scene did not really work, addressing an imaginary Othello.

His mornings at the office, practicing his typing, were the sole source of pleasure and distraction in his life. Though he had been acquainted with the office staff before, it was only now that he began to know about their lives — their husbands and wives, their children, their hobbies and interests. Uncle Lucky’s relationship with Miss Rani remained a mystery, and he often pondered over it. He would watch them together, remarking to himself on their intimacy, which appeared almost unseemly between a boss and his staff member. When they were in a meeting, Uncle Lucky, as opposed to sitting on his side of the desk with Miss Rani across from him, would often come around and sit by her. They would discuss a business problem or a new venture with their heads bent close together. Uncle Lucky would sometimes touch Miss Rani’s arm in a gesture of approval and yet, Amrith did not think there was anything lascivious about this contact. Uncle Lucky often left his cubicle door open and the rest of the staff could see them. They appeared unfazed by this intimacy.

To relieve his boredom, Amrith went to visit Aunt Wilhelmina one afternoon. He found her playing bridge on the front veranda with her usual coterie of Cinnamon
Gardens dowagers — Lady Rajapakse, Mrs. Zarina Akbarally, and Mrs. Jayalukshmi Coomaraswamy. Amrith was a bit frightened of these formidable women, who never hesitated to speak their minds in a very blunt manner. Yet they were always nice to him and often commented on what a polite boy he was, wishing that their grandsons were more like him.

Once he had greeted them, Aunt Wilhelmina, who was very pleased to see him, led Amrith through the drawing room and dining room, waiting for him to make his choice from her glass-fronted cabinets. He picked the one containing the silver. Aunt Wilhelmina unlocked the doors, then rang a bell for her retainer, Ramu. He laid out newspapers on the dining table and brought in the silver polish and some rags. Amrith was left to his work with a glass of sweetened lime juice, bridge sandwiches, and little iced cakes.

He did not understand why, but bringing back the luster to silver or dusting carefully around the ridges and indentations of porcelain ornaments brought him great contentment. As he took each silver object from the cabinet to the table, he marveled at its beauty — the two elaborate candelabrums, their bases and knops molded with leaves, their serpentine branches ornamented with foliage; a set of dinner plates with a design of acanthus shells and anthemion ornaments etched along the edge; the cake-basket with its finely pierced sides engraved with foliage, flowers, beading, and trelliswork; a bulbous soup tureen with elaborately cast rose finials and rose bracket handles; a tea and coffee service from China carved with panels of Chinese landscapes, the spouts on the pots fashioned to resemble bamboo.

Amrith worked for a while, then needing a break, he walked around the drawing room admiring the furniture. Aunt Wilhelmina had been married in the early 1920s and all her furniture was Art Deco imported from France.

She had a nicely illustrated book on Art Deco furniture and Amrith, as he often did, took it down from the bookshelf and looked through the pages, glancing up every so often at the pieces of furniture to see, in three-dimension, the simple forms and classical styles, the exotic materials and fine handcraftsmanship, the complicated inlays of ivory, tortoiseshell, gold leaf, and tooled leather, the contrasting veneers of rare and expensive wood, which was Art Deco.