The Hope of Shridula (30 page)

"Did you hear them talking?" Shridula whispered to Glory Anna. "One overseer will have to go. Dinkar hates my father because he thinks my father is trying to push him out, but my father never wanted to be overseer in the first place. Dinkar will fight to keep his job, but my father will not fight back."

"Saji Stephen likes your father," Glory Anna said.

"No, he does not! He only likes to torment him. If my father was gone, Dinkar could be the overseer again the way he was before, and everyone could be satisfied."

"Gone where?" Glory Anna asked.

"Away! With me. Do you not see? India is free from England. You will soon be married, and then you will be free from this place. But what about my father and me? Should we not be free too?"

"I do not know," Glory Anna said doubtfully. "Where would you go? Maybe you would starve to death."

"Maybe I would not," Shridula said. "Other Untouchables live free. I saw them when we went to the market."

"Do you really think you could?" Glory Anna asked. She paused only a moment, then she grabbed Shridula's hands. "If you truly think so . . . Well, maybe then I could help you."

The next evening, after the last meal of the day, Glory Anna spread out a long silk scarf and stacked five
chapatis
on it. She tucked a bag of rice up close to them. "Do you want to take my hair brush with you?" she asked.

Shridula laughed. "It is silver. Untouchables cannot have metal."

Glory Anna opened the wardrobe and pulled out her dowry box. "Ten rupees and twenty annas," she said. "That is all the money I have. You take it."

"No," Shridula said. "I could not."

"It is my gift to you. For all you did for me." Glory Anna laid the coins beside the food and wrapped everything together in the scarf.

Many times, Shridula had gone to the settlement to see her father. She could easily go again and no one would ask questions. But if she did go to the settlement, word would quickly spread from worker to worker that she was there and she wouldn't be left alone for a single moment. With so many eyes on her, how could she and her father hope to sneak away? Better to wait until everyone in the landlord's house was asleep. She could go get her father, and they could be away from the settlement well before dawn.

After the sun had set, Saji Stephen and Nihal Amos settled themselves on the veranda to enjoy the cool of the evening. Glory Anna opened the door of her room, and the girls peeked out at the men. Shridula would have to cross the veranda in order to get to the path that led to the settlement.

"Those two might sit there all night!" Glory Anna whispered.

But Shridula knew they would not. She just had to wait. Just wait.

". . . no sleep last night," Nihal Amos was saying. ". . . fool of a loudmouth bird!"

Shridula could only catch snatches of their conversation. ". . . early tomorrow morning . . ." Saji Stephen replied. ". . . most important day of all . . ."

Glory Anna caught her breath. "I think he is almost ready to go to bed," she whispered.

Nihal Amos said something that made Saji Stephen laugh. Saji stood up and stretched. ". . . right after dawn. Or perhaps even before . . ." He made his way toward the house. Quickly the girls scampered inside and shut the door.

After a few minutes, Glory Anna eased the door open. Out on the veranda, Nihal Amos busied himself spreading his sleeping mat. He stretched out across it, and within minutes his soft snores reverberated back to the house.

"Now!" Glory Anna whispered.

Shridula grabbed up the silk scarf.

Glory Anna threw her arms around Shridula and hugged her tight. "I will pray for you," she promised. "Every day, I will pray for you."

With a sudden rush, Shridula's mind flooded with all the things she wished to say.
Thank you for letting me sleep in your room. Thank you for reading with me. Thank you for allowing my Untouchable hands to hold your silver brush. Thank you for daring to be my friend.
But in the end, all she could manage was to choke out, "Thank you. Thank you!"

Shridula eased out the door and wove her way along the side of the veranda. Hugging the shadows and hardly daring to breathe, she crept around Nihal Amos. Never before had she seen him so close. His lips were full and loose. With each breath, he sucked them in with a snort, then puffed them out with a resounding snore. With a sudden gasp, Nihal Amos swatted at something on his face. Shridula froze. She was close enough to reach out and touch him. But then he rolled over, and the floppy-lip snoring started up all over again.

If only the moon were not so bright!
Shridula thought.
If only the night were not so clear!

Shridula's pounding heart made her head throb. Yet she dared not slow her pace. Finally she managed to duck around the corner of the veranda. Once her feet touched the safety of the garden edge, she lunged forward . . . only to plunge headlong into a handcart filled with rocks. The cart tipped over with a crash, and the rocks clattered out onto the ground.

"Who is there?" Nihal Amos called.

Shridula crouched down low. She was stuck out in the open, halfway between the wall and the road. Her eyes darted back and forth. She could see no place to hide.

"Who is it?" Nihal Amos demanded. "Who is in the garden?"

Shridula could picture Nihal Amos sitting up on his sleeping mat and craning his neck to get a better look toward the garden. Terrified, she froze. Soon he would make his way toward her. Perhaps he had already picked up a stick. Or a knife.

Then an idea came to Shridula. She stretched out her neck and, in the voice of the peacock, she called
Aaaaaahh . . . lo! Aaaaaahh . . . lo!

Aaaaaahh . . . lo!
the peacock answered from its roost in the tree. Aaaaaahh . . . lo!

"Fool of a loudmouth bird!" Nihal Amos said. He lay back down, clamped his hands over his ears, and went back to sleep.

Shridula slipped away in the moonlight under the watchful eye of the confused peacock.

September 1947

L
eave the settlement?" Ashish exclaimed. "Sneak away in the dark of the night?" He stared at Shridula with uncomprehending eyes. "But where would we go?"

"To freedom!" Shridula said.

"I have never been out of the settlement. Our kind . . . Untouchables like us . . . we have no place in the village."

"I have been out there,
Appa,
and I saw our kind," Shridula insisted. "Untouchables live out there, and they are not owned by anyone."

"What would we do? How would we eat?"

"We can make a way." Shridula grabbed her father's arm and shook him. "But we have to go now,
Appa.
Tonight! Do you not see? The landowner will not allow two overseers in his harvest fields. He is coming tomorrow. When he gets here, you must be gone!"

"I do not want to be overseer," Ashish said. "I will say that to Dinkar. I will say it to the landlord. I do not want to fight with anyone."

"Of course not!" Shridula could barely hide her exasperation. "Please,
Appa,
we must go now. While it is still dark and everyone sleeps. In the morning, when the harvest begins, it will be too late."

Shridula scooped up the earthenware container of spices and the bag of rice and tossed them into her silk scarf. "We will only take the food and the water jar. Maybe one pot for cooking. Leave everything else."

Ashish didn't move. "They will come after us," he said.

"Not with the harvest starting. They will be too busy. Come,
Appa.
Please, come now!"

"The Holy Book," Ashish said. "I should get that from its hiding place and take it along. Unless we will be coming back. Will we be coming back?"

"Take it," Shridula said. "We will not be back."

Shridula grabbed up the loaded scarf and hung it over her shoulder. She grabbed her father by the arm and pulled him toward the door. "Be very quiet. We must not let anyone hear us. Come, come! Quickly now."

Outside the door, Ashish stopped to stare at the giant
neem
tree. "I planted this tree myself. Twenty-nine years ago, for your mother. It was only a little sprout then, but I knew it would grow. It keeps our hut cool in the hot sun."

"Yes," Shridula whispered gently. "But look at the branches,
Appa.
They wave a farewell to us. Do come now. We must step quickly!"

How grateful Shridula was for the same bright moon that had so upset her when she sneaked across the veranda. Now it cast a welcome glow that lent a bit of light to the rough path. Only occasionally did they stumble on the dried crevices or trip on rocks.

"If anyone sees us, we will act as though we are simply enjoying a cool respite together," Shridula told her father.

"With a bulging silk scarf hanging over your shoulder?" Ashish asked. But his voice was easier, and he laughed when he said it.

Once they were safely out on the thornbush-lined path and away from the settlement, Shridula picked up the pace. "Hurry," she urged. "Before the workers awaken and someone sees that you are gone."

"Do you know where you are taking us?"

"Yes. Well, sort of . . . Away from the landlord." Shridula laughed. "You do like an adventure, do you not?"

"No, I do not," her father answered. "But if your mother was here, she would love it."

"I wish she was here," Shridula said. "She would be so happy to finally be free."

Ashish touched his daughter's hand. "You are very much like her, you know."

Together Shridula and Ashish hurried along the narrow path that ran between the two largest of the landowner's fields. They could almost make out the most productive of the rice paddies off to the right. In a few hours, it would be filled with workers.

"This harvest will not be a good one," Ashish told his daughter. "I am happy to be gone."

For a long while, the two walked in silence. The farther they moved from the settlement, the narrower the path became. With fewer feet treading this way, the ground grew increasingly uneven and bumpy.

"Slow down," Ashish warned. But Shridula would not. As the moon set and the shadows thickened, it became more and more difficult to see the path. Several times Shridula stumbled, but she quickly righted herself. Still she refused to slow her pace.

"I do not think it will be very much— Oooof!"

Shridula's foot hit against a jutting tree root, and she landed flat on the ground. The silk scarf slipped from her shoulder and struck the baked ground with a clatter.

"We are away from the settlement," Ashish said as he helped Shridula to her feet. "Slow your pace." She started to argue, but he stopped her. "Listen to me, Daughter. Do you hear the river? The road to the village is up ahead. Slow your pace."

When Saji Stephen stepped out onto the veranda, all ready for a new day, he found his son pacing impatiently.

"You said sunup," Nihal Amos said.

Saji Stephen looked up at the last splashes of orange fading from the already hot sky. "Better to see the laborers in the field." He moved to his place under the jasmine vines. "Come. Sit beside me. We will go to the paddies with our stomachs full."

Nihal Amos sighed with frustration. "Better to see the harvest started well," he said. "You can fill your belly when our work is done."

"Now see here—"

"If we are to work together, I shall have my share of the say," Nihal Amos said. "And I say we get ourselves out to the paddy immediately."

"It will take time for the servant to ready the horse cart," Saji Stephen said. "I will give the word, and Udit can bring
idli
cakes and curry for us to eat while we wait."

"I have already given word," Nihal Amos said. "The cart is ready and waiting."

"But smell the curry," Saji pleaded. "Surely it would do no harm to wait for a bit of rice!"

"Even now we waste time!" Nihal Amos exclaimed. "I am going. Come with me or stay here and eat."

Nihal Amos strode toward the waiting cart. Saji Stephen frowned and scolded after him. Nihal Amos, ignoring his father's protests, climbed up into the cart. Saji Stephen started to stamp his foot, but already Nihal Amos was giving orders to the servant.

"Wait!" Saji Stephen called as he ran for the cart. "Now I am ready!"

As the rising sun shimmered pink and orange, Shridula and Ashish stood together at the end of the landlord's pathway, at the place where it joined the village road. Alongside the juncture, the river flowed brown and lazy, cutting the village road in two. Ashish stood still and stared at the rickety bridge that connected one side of the road with the other. "There it is," he said in wonder. "That is the place that haunts me in my dreams."

"You have been here before?" Shridula asked.

"No . . . Or . . . maybe. I almost remember, but not quite. I do know that it is a bad place. A place of evil and great pain. We must leave at once."

On the other side of the road, in a rice paddy ripe for harvest, a sprinkling of men stood up from their work and stared across at the two.

"The Untouchable women I saw at the market," Shridula said uncertainly. "They were on this side of the river. I know they were, because I did not cross over. But I did cross it when . . . when I was with Glory Anna."

"This is a bad place," Ashish murmured. He started to tremble. "Maybe we should go back. Maybe we would be better off working for the landlord."

"No!" Shridula said. "We can find those other Untouchable women who sell at the market. We can ask them—"

"This is Sudra land!" a worker called from across the road. "Untouchables belong on the other side of the river!"

"Come,
Appa!"
Shridula said. She grabbed Ashish by the hand and pulled.

"No, no," he protested. "We must not!" But Shridula ran on toward the bridge. Ashish had no choice but to follow.

"Not one worker will be in the fields," Saji Stephen said.

"The harvest begins today," Nihal Amos insisted. "Everyone who can stand will go to the fields."

"Those lazy laborers know how to get out of work. One will say to Ashish, 'We cannot cut the rice because Dinkar told us to clean the storage sheds.' Another will say to Dinkar, 'We cannot clean the storage sheds because Ashish told us to cut the rice.' Then they will lie down together in the shade while the rice goes uncut and the shed stays dirty."

"One overseer," Nihal Amos stated. "He will have our backing, and we will punish all who go against him."

"But what if it is the other overseer who goes against him?"

"There will be no other overseer. One overseer only, and he will have our backing."

"But if Dinkar says one thing and Ashish says another—"

"One overseer!" Nihal Amos insisted. "Only one, and everyone will do as he says."

As the horse cart passed the empty field, Saji Stephen snorted in frustration. The horse continued on, picking its footing along the path to the second field. "Weeds!" Saji Stephen exclaimed. "Nothing but weeds!" When the main field came into view, Saji Stephen caught his breath.

Already, a long line of men had started their way through the paddy, swinging their scythes high and chopping the rice stalks low and close. As one, they stepped forward and chopped again. Another step and another chop. Behind them, women readied themselves to gather up the stalks and bind them into sheaves.

Saji Stephen leapt up, trying his best to stand in the moving cart. "Look! Just look!" he cried, beside himself with joy.

"Separate the weeds!" Dinkar called out to one group of women. "Work faster, Arun!" he shouted to a man in the line. "Keep up with the others!"

"You did it!" Saji Stephen sighed as he sank down beside Nihal Amos. "One overseer, just as you said! And everyone at work. Just as you said, my son!"

"But, Father, I . . . I . . ." Perplexed, Nihal Amos looked about him, searching for Ashish.

"You what?"

"Never mind," said Nihal Amos. "One overseer, just as I said."