The Monsoon Rain (7 page)

But every cloud had a silver lining; she was being promoted at work and that was one consolation. She had passed her exams and was becoming a state-registered nurse. She figured the only way to forget Derek would be to engross herself in work and try to forget the past and look forward to the future instead. Work was tremendous therapy, and she was very resolute in her desire to succeed and move on with her life. She was tired of thinking about Derek. She had left his jacket in the hotel room on purpose that night. She could have used it as an excuse to meet up again but she had been strong enough in her will to decide against that. She would let bygones be bygones and move forward.

Her mother was waiting anxiously one evening when Miranda returned home. She had just parked her little Mini and had turned off the ignition when she noticed her mother waiting at the open front door of their house. Miranda felt a sudden panic and ran toward her mother.

“Anything wrong?” she asked, her voice tinged with anxiety.

“Oh, no,” her mother replied. “Your Aunt Dolly and Uncle Tom rang from India today, and guess what?” she asked Miranda, full of excitement. “They want you to visit them, in India. A very expensive long-distance call,” she hastened to add. “I could hardly hear there was so much crackling on the line.”

Miranda stood rooted to the ground. “India,” she said mechanically. “India,” she said again. Immediately Derek’s face loomed in front of her.

“Do they really want me to go over, Mum?” she asked her mother, making her way into the house. “Or was it you who instigated the whole thing?”

“No, dear—why should I? What a preposterous idea!” Molly did not look at her daughter as she said this; suddenly a speck of dirt had become of utmost priority. “And I said that you would love to go over. Was I right in saying that?”

Then she turned around and faced her daughter as if suddenly out of the blue she had the sudden strength to tell a white lie. After all, a white lie never hurt anyone, did it? She looked at her daughter expectantly.

Miranda hesitated for a brief moment before answering. She was gob smacked, rooted to the ground. She could hardly believe her ears. She was smart, her mother. Who ever would have called long distance and hatched a plan of this sort?

India! She could not believe what she had heard.

Miranda had already looked up India and Assam in the world atlas. It was on the other side of the world.

“Yes, Mum,” she said under her breath, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder. She was trembling with emotion and excitement.

Molly had known all along that her daughter was pining for Derek, and her heart went out to her watching Miranda waiting anxiously for the phone call that never came, the letter that never arrived. She
had watched Miranda waiting for the post the days she was at home but to no avail. This was like wartime, waiting for a letter from the front.

Little did Molly know that no telephone calls were expected and none would be coming. She did not try to hazard a guess as to what had transpired between the two. She’d decided to act, and act she did! Molly being Molly had taken the bull by the horns and under her own initiative put a call through to India to her sister Dolly.

Molly had a feeling of female intuition that Derek was not leading Miranda on, that there was some reason as to why he was behaving the way he was. She felt that he was a nice guy who would make a wonderful husband for her daughter. So why waste time? Instead she set the ball rolling, so to speak, and called Dolly.

She didn’t have a clue as where her sister was or where Derek was based. She had heard Miranda mention vaguely that Derek had gone to India and stayed there often, his family being involved with tea gardens and tea. So Molly telephoned her sister and inquired very discreetly if she knew anybody by the name of Derek Chowdhury, a tea planter in India. Nothing would daunt Miranda’s mother. It was her mission now to get her daughter off to India, and the rest would follow suit!

Dolly had been extremely surprised to receive a long-distance call from her sister. And Molly did not have a clue about the time difference between the two countries! Dolly and her husband were fast asleep when the shrill sound of the telephone woke them up.

“What, excuse me? What did you say? Who?”

“Derek Chowdhury.”

“Yes, we know him. What about him?”

Both the sisters were getting more and more exasperated, and Dolly could make neither head nor tail of the conversation. And there was Molly trying her utmost to explain things in as short a period of time as possible.

“Have you any idea what time it is out here, Molly?” Dolly had an edge to her voice.

“Oh dear, I have called you at the wrong time.” Molly was very apologetic.

By this time, however, Dolly and her husband were wide-awake and Molly was able to at last inform them of why she had put a long-distance call through to them and was also able to extricate some information from her sister.

Derek Chowdhury apparently had a reputation that preceded him regarding women, and Dolly did not know much about his love life except that he was semi-involved with a woman named Hannah and there was much talk about a Santal woman who had worked for the family when they were out there and who had since disappeared. Dolly could not vouch for the authenticity of the rumor, but there it was. Oh, yes, he was a lovely, charming man, and good-looking too!

Dolly was a bit dubious about Miranda setting her cap for him, but if Molly wanted help in this quarter she and Tom would do everything they could to help. And then the conversation veered toward when she would want her daughter to fly to India and what the weather was like in England—and if Miranda could bring some cheese with her!

Miranda’s departure had to be postponed for a few months as India was on the brink of war with the Chinese, and Assam was in the path of the Chinese as they were about to march into a place called Tezpur. All the planters were being evacuated for their own safety. Assam was in a chaotic situation. Pundit Nehru, the prime minister of India, was flying into Assam trying to placate the Indian soldiers. The refugees from Tibet were coming in droves to Guwahati and Tezpur.

The patients from the lunatic asylum in Tezpur, the largest asylum in eastern India, were let out. People were running helter-skelter, and whoever could was leaving Assam. Pundit Nehru’s last speech for Assam was rather short, as he landed for only a brief moment and then took off in his helicopter—but not without mentioning that his heart went out to the people of Assam.

In all this chaos, Miranda’s visit was indefinitely postponed. It was not safe to fly to a war zone, she was told. Just as suddenly as these developments arose, however, the Chinese decided not to enter
Tezpur, the border town, and to turn back instead. Nobody knew why the Chinese had changed their mind. Nonetheless, a call from India gave Molly the all clear to proceed with her preparations for Miranda’s visit to Assam.

In London the newspapers were full of news regarding the resignation of Harold Macmillan, the fall of the government, and the impending elections. Miranda was feverishly going around collecting bits and pieces for her impending departure. She was apprehensive and excited at the same time—the fear of the unknown!

Often at night she would wake up and sit up in bed debating in her mind if she was doing the right thing. But she was not chasing after Derek. She was going on a visit to her aunt and uncle—hoping against hope she would meet up with Derek, of course! That was the sole purpose of her visit, after all.

In the meantime, in a bungalow in a tea garden a sahib and his old retainer were deep in conversation. He sat on the veranda, whisky in hand, with a dreamy look, it was dusk. His eyes drooped, and he was feeling rather lazy and relaxed. Radhu chacha sat in one of the other chairs deep in thought. Radhu chacha often took the liberty of sitting while in the presence of chota sahib when they were alone—never with company, however. That was simply not done. But he and chota had a bond. After all he had given his word to chota’s mother that he would look after him.

However, at this precise moment, the crickets had come out of their hiding places, wide-awake for the night, and the aroma of jasmine, the exotic perfume of
raat ki rani
(“queen of the night” as the flower was known in India), was everywhere. The atmosphere was exotic and breathtakingly mesmerizing. It was quiet in the veranda; only a light burning in the front room of the bungalow gave some light. Other than that, all was in utter darkness and engulfed in the quiet ambience of the wonderful East.

On this mesmerizing and exotic evening two men were reminiscing about the past, going over every detail, and discussing the future as well.

So many thoughts were crowding Radhu’s head! They discussed the other English memsahib whom his sahib at one time had been quite taken up with, though Radhu could not for the world remember her name. Then there was Rukmini. His chota always mentioned Rukmini to him, often with tears in his eyes, and many times he begged him to tell him what had happened to her. But Radhu would not open his mouth. Hadn’t he given his word to the old memsahib, chota’s mother?

Chota had begged him, even threatened to kill him, for that bit of information, but Radhu would not budge! Chota gave up after some time—what else could he do? After all, he needed Radhu to look after him, didn’t he?

Radhu’s position was assured, and he was very content looking after chota and practically running the entire establishment. Nothing happened here without his knowledge.

Derek stretched out further in the old deck chair and poured himself another whisky. That was enough for him for this evening, Radhu chacha decided. He was very deft at handling this chota sahib, his “young master.” Chuckling to himself he silently removed the bottle. Derek’s eyes were shut.

He was back in London, having an imaginary conversation with Miranda.

Suddenly Derek sat up and tried to adjust his eyes to the dark. He could make out Radhu’s hazy shadow sitting a little distance away from him. “Remember, chacha, Rukmini used to wear flowers in her hair? And that was for me, to look beautiful for me?”

“Yes, chota. I remember,” came Radhu’s noncommittal answer. “Come on, it is getting late, and you will have to wake up early for the factory.” Radhu went in search of the servant to serve dinner to the chota sahib. This conversation always made him very uncomfortable. He could not look chota in the eye whenever Rukmini’s name was mentioned.

During supper one evening, Molly could feel the suppressed excitement Miranda had been trying to conceal about her upcoming trip.

Their conversation was mostly about mundane things, and Miranda tried desperately to avoid mentioning India.

“Mum, would you mind very much if I went to bed a bit early?” she asked tenderly. And in the same breath she cautioned her mother regarding mentioning anything to Charu, who was on her way back to London after a brief spell in Europe.

“And by the way, Mum, Charu should be here tomorrow. If she telephones and you happen to answer, please, please don’t mention a word about India. Please, Mum!”

“Goodnight, darling, and don’t worry. I won’t,” she added with a knowing smile.

Miranda was meeting Charu the next day. She had decided not to let Charu know that she was leaving for India shortly. She couldn’t bear to be teased or asked a lot of silly questions. And if Charu knew, then Charles would know, and of course ultimately it would reach Derek.

Lunch with Charu was full of Holland and other destinations in Europe and about the exclusive apartment they had. Charu looked and behaved rich. She looked good in her very expensive white trousers and blue silk flowery top. She looked radiant, and the glittering bright diamonds in her ears accentuated the glow in her face. Marriage definitely suited her. Miranda was a little envious! If only Derek had been as easygoing as Charles. But life was never the way you wished it to be.

“So, Mira,” Charu drawled, “met anybody exciting recently?” she asked, crossing her legs.

“No,” Mira was quick to answer under her breath.

“Get cracking, darling. Marriage is wonderful; you don’t know what you are missing!”

“Haven’t met Mr. Right as yet,” Mira answered rather caustically.

“Derek?” Charu asked.

“No.” Mira vehemently shook her head from side to side. “He has not bothered to keep in touch and,” she hastened to add rather too quickly, Charu thought, “there are other fish in the sea!”

Charu looked so very confident; her attitude unnerved Miranda a bit. She wanted to go home. She needed a refuge, a hideout. Why was she feeling this way? Jealousy? After analyzing herself, she came to the same conclusion that anybody with half a brain would have come to. Yes, Miranda was jealous of her friend Charu.

This thought hit her abruptly, full in the face. She excused herself and made her way to the ladies’ room where she brought up her lunch. Gosh, Charu had this effect on her? Why did she let her? Then she stopped herself from screaming by pushing her fist into her mouth. She rinsed her mouth and then made herself presentable with a slight touch of lipstick and a comb through her tousled hair before managing to totter back to their table. Smiling weakly, she excused herself by saying she was not feeling well. They promised to meet up again, and then Miranda left. It was an abrupt departure, and it left her friend slightly perplexed. Miranda knew very well that another meeting would not take place—not very soon, at least, and maybe not ever, she thought angrily.

3

“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN,
please fasten your seat belts; we are about to land at Calcutta International Airport,” said the brisk and efficient female voice over the intercom.

Miranda sat up, suddenly jarred back to reality. She had arrived! Feeling tired and awfully excited she waited eagerly for the plane to stop taxiing and for them to disembark. Looking out of the window she could see unending rolling grassland. The sun was shining very bright, and looked extremely hot. Thankfully, Miranda had requested a window seat and got one.

Retrieving her carry-on baggage from the overhead bin she waited to get off the plane. So this was India, she mused. I am here at last! The last few days had been very hectic, what with visas and shopping and packing. She had never dreamed of flying on such a long trip! It was so expensive, and nobody she knew had flown, except of course Charu, Charles, and Derek. That name again. Why did it always have to rear its ugly head? She had come out here to enjoy herself, to see a bit of the world. And as far as she could gather, her uncle was planning on leaving India very soon, like all the other English planters. They were slowly creeping back to where they belonged.