The Onus of Ancestry (8 page)

*

It was some time in June, and Nishith was celebrating his promotion to a more senior position in the company. He invited Parna and Dwita to join him for a picnic lunch in Diamond Harbour. He would make all the arrangements and they were just to be guests. He advised an early start to avoid the heat and discomfort of a warm June day.

Parna suddenly decided to give Nishith a present and was rather extravagant in choosing it. It was an exquisite set of gold buttons for a Punjabi shirt – Dwita considered it rather impractical as he never wore a
dhoti
or
pajamas
and in fact spurned all forms of indigenous attire. He was always impeccably turned out in western suits or casuals. He prided himself on the choice of his tailor, the long-standing Ghulam Ali & Co in the arcade of Calcutta's most prestigious hotel. Old Mr Ghulam Ali always imported the cloth for him at vast cost from foreign suppliers and his casual wear was always ordered from France or Italy through the good offices of Mr Ghulam Ali's son-in-law, who was the buyer of ready-made clothing for the family firm and complimented himself on his good taste. Nishith's favourite shades were grey and brown – the only time he wore any other colour was when in his whites for riding, sailing or tennis. Nishith was a keen sportsman.

Dwita did not comment when Parna showed her the expensive present. She decided it must be Parna's way of saying thank you to Nishith for his many kindnesses. Nishith himself considered the gift further acknowledgement of her intentions – gold was recognised as a seal of approval in matrimonial negotiations. Dwita noticed that Nishith had touched her mother's feet as a gesture of respect after receiving the present and she had touched his head in return, blessing him in traditional style. She found all this very embarrassing.

At the last minute, as they were about to leave, Parna had pleaded illness and asked to be excused from the picnic. Dwita offered to opt out as well but her mother insisted on her going, saying that they could not both disappoint Nishith and upset his plans – after all it was an important occasion for him. They drove away without any more fuss. The first part of the journey was covered more or less quietly as the streets were congested and Nishith had to concentrate on negotiating people and vehicles. Dwita thought he looked rather preoccupied. She attributed it to his disappointment at Parna's absence. Little did she guess what was really occupying Nishith's thoughts.

Nishith was busy planning his strategy for the next move. He felt that he had waited long enough and had been patient in not precipitating events. He had also detected a further signal from Parna – he felt sure the present was indicative of her desire for him to take another step forward. When better than today? He should speak to Dwita – it was difficult to be alone with her without being near or intimate. He was aching to hold her, to draw her near to him – it took all his self-control to present to her this image of gentlemanly unconcern. Men should be less considerate of women's feelings and sensitivity, he thought. He preferred the good old days when men were masters in their society, less constrained by women's needs for freedom, consideration or equality. His father and grandfather would have laughed at his play of elaborate discretion. After all Dwita was surely not so young that she could not realise that Nishith's constant company and single-minded interest in her might have other motives.

“How far is it from here?” Her voice suddenly pricked his thoughts.

“Not long now, we shall soon be there.”

“It is so wonderful to be out early in the morning – so much more peaceful.”

“Not when we were on the Behala road.”

“No, I mean now.”

“It is also peaceful to have someone quiet by your side,” he said, squeezing her hand quickly.

Dwita was taken aback – he had never touched her before.

“Well, it is better to be quiet when the driver is concentrating.”

“On what?”

“On the road, of course.”

“I was not really–” He stopped and Dwita did not pursue the topic, but she felt Nishith was being rather strange and ambiguous today.

Then he said, “Dwita, I am starving and very thirsty as well. I missed my breakfast. Shall we stop and have a sandwich or coffee?”

“Sounds good – the coffee particularly. Look, you can park there, under that banyan tree – it seems quite shady.”

“Yes, let's do that.”

They sat in the car, in the shade, drinking coffee and eating sandwiches.

“It's wonderful – I hope we can do this on all my future promotions. Do you agree?” he said looking straight into her eyes.

“Yes, of course, if you can get promoted often enough.”

“Do you understand, Dwita, what you are promising?”

Dwita felt afraid, she was losing control over the direction of their conversation.

“Promising? No, I don't understand.”

“Well, I shall leave it now and pursue it later.”

Nishith drove silently for the rest of the journey to the river
ghat
and Dwita decided to dismiss her doubts for the moment. It was not difficult to return to normality as the boatmen had now surrounded their car, offering competitive fares for trips round the estuary. Dwita was very excited – this would be her first boat-ride. Parna always prevented her having any simple adventures of this sort. She had not even been allowed to learn to swim. Parna saw swimming as a danger to life, rather than a way to avoid drowning.

Nishith had chosen a boat, wide and strong looking, painted in blue and white. They sailed away from the shore, with two men who sat one at each end rowing.

“Do you know, if I fell into the river I could not save myself. I cannot swim,” she told him.

“I am a strong swimmer, so you need have no fears and I can also teach you to swim. The Club has a good swimming pool.”

“Mother would be horrified if she heard you.”

“I do not think so–”

How confident he sounded, she could not help thinking.

“Dwita, we have known each other for sometime now. Do you know we have already met eighty-five times?”

“Have you been counting?”

“Yes – I counted them up because you still seem so distant and seem not to trust me.”

“But, of course, I trust you.”

“That is not enough – I had expected more.”

“But–”

“Please, let me speak. I must say today what I have wanted and waited to say. Dwita, whether it were eighty-five meetings or more, they would not be enough for me. I want to be with you all the time, night and day. I have been in love with you ever since I set eyes on you. I love you Dwita, do you understand?”

Dwita was speechless. Barun had spoken to her in similar fashion, if not in so many words. She had then said no – how had she changed since then?

“Nishith – I do not know quite what to say.”

“Then let me do all the talking. I have plenty to say and I have waited a long time to say it – you just listen and don't turn me down.”

“I am so confused–”

“There is no need for confusion. Trust me now and love me later if you cannot love me now – but do not send me away, Dwita. I love you and need you.” He came quickly to her side and held her close to him. She felt numb, unable to protest – his maleness, so close to her sent unfamiliar needles of sensation through her.

The boatman warned – “
Babura, Shabdhan – nao – ultaibo
.” He then broke into an old refrain: “
Ore, sujan naiya, konba kanyar deshe jaaore, chander dingi baiya
–” He chuckled and said again, “
Babura, shadi hoibo naaki?”

Dwita blushed deeply but Nishith quickly recovered his composure. “Don't worry, old man, we won't turn your boat over. You keep rowing and singing – but try not to look this way, or ask too many questions!”

“He, he, he
achcha, achcha, babura – Dayal thakurer ashirbad hok – bhalo kaira, bakshish diyokhon, ei booraré
.”

“Despite the boatman's blessings, I don't think our romance will be given any peace or privacy.” Nishith resignedly got up to sit on the other side.

Dwita's thoughts were racing. She was totally lost. She did not recognise the sensations she had just experienced. Was it just a physical response to Nishith's closeness, an awareness of his virility, a reaction to a common physical need? But she had never been in love before – how could she know how it felt. She did not love Nishith in the way she had heard or read about love. But she, too, felt a need these days for his presence – was it the same as his need for her? She could find no answer to any of these questions.

“Dwita, come back to earth and to me – I seem to have lost you. Look, it has got a bit cloudy and the wind is rising – it may be better to get back to the car and perhaps have lunch.”

“Yes, let's do that.”

“We do seem to agree on most things,” he said, half jesting.

They returned to the car and drove silently for some distance until Nishith turned into the drive of a beautiful house, hidden away from immediate view by tall trees and shady arbours.

“Where are we?”

“This is the company's garden house. It is loaned to senior managers as a retreat on request. I thought it would be nice to have lunch in the garden by the fish pond.”

He summoned the
chowkidar
and the
maali
– the caretaker and the gardener – who had taken the picnic out of the car. A colourful durree rug had been spread on the lawn beside the pond. The ice-box was full of food, beer and soft drinks. Plates, glasses and cutlery arrived in no time, even starched white napkins. The company had obviously equipped the place well for its executives. Nishith seemed to know the staff, who stood to attention with an attentive air.

“Right, that's all for now – you may leave!”

He had not thanked them, just seemed to expect service as his birthright. Nishith had never behaved so peremptorily before in her presence. Maybe this was his managerial image. Or was he two people?

“Dwita, I seem to spend most of my time today calling you back to earth. Are you not hungry? It is nearly two o'clock.”

“I have been thinking how marvellous it is to have all this expert attention at the clap of your hands.”

“It is all in your honour.”

“I should think in yours.”

“It is in honour of both of us and our future together.”

“Nishith, this is all happening too quickly for me – please give me a little time. It is so unexpected.”

“Unexpected? Not for me. Dwita, please do not keep me waiting for long. I am not a patient man and I have had to be very patient lately.”

“Thank you, Nishith, please give me a little more time – I promise not to take any longer than necessary.”

“Well, let us have something to eat. You may feel less confused after that.”

He said no more but began to organise their lunch. He had brought a carefully prepared hamper filled with savouries and sweets which he proceeded to demolish hungrily. He seemed not to notice that Dwita hardly touched the food. She could barely make herself swallow a morsel of anything – her throat felt constricted with fear and apprehension.

She was suddenly very nervous of him: what was he going to say or do next? Nishith seemed to have lost his usual composure. Would he lose his restraint too? What should she do? Scream for help, run? There was no one around – she suddenly remembered the incident at the villa, and Shomnath, but then chided herself immediately for thinking ill of Nishith. Her thoughts turned to Parna – why had her mother allowed her to go around so freely with him? Was it intentional? But surely if she accepted Nishith's proposal, and if Parna had deliberately manipulated events her mother would be the loser. Dwita could not fathom any of it.

If she accepted Nishith, she would escape once and for all from Parna's hold. She could be free. But it would mean giving up everything else. And yet – Nishith had always encouraged her to continue with her studies, given her books to read and had helped her plan her career. He had in fact brought the news to her of the Indian government's intensions to consider accepting married women in the service and even spoken to her of the possibility of applying as a management trainee in one of the larger commercial enterprises in the country. Was this then the answer for her? Accept Nishith and escape Parna?

“Dwita, let us go for a stroll in the mango orchard before we pack up and leave.”

She raised herself to follow Nishith through the paths of the orchard, where the branches of the mango trees were bowed down with ripe juicy fruit – it was the height of mango season – and the air was pregnant with the heady fragrance of
langras
and
gulabkhas
. They walked together, each lost in a deep personal reverie. Nishith brought up the subject once again. He was not to be dissuaded easily and Dwita realised that it would perhaps be wiser to talk it through with him, rather than postpone it.

“Nishith,” she said, “I value your friendship and enjoy your company, but I do not really know if I love you, or at least if I love you enough to make a life together. I am not ready for marriage, or prepared to give the commitment that you seek from our relationship. I have not started living as yet – I wish to do so many things, live in so many places–”

“Dwita, will this be possible in the life that your mother leads or makes you live, the constraints that she imposes on you? Do you think I have not seen the stifling breathlessness of your daily existence? In me you have your freedom.”

Nishith was astute; he knew exactly where to make his move. “Marry me, Dwita, and earn your freedom. Live, breathe, see the world – we can do it together. You can continue with your studies, follow a career – I won't stop you. I want you to grow. I am older than you, I can guide you through life in a way your mother cannot ever hope to achieve. You need the love and understanding of a man – you have lived too long in the company of women – your mother, grandmother and your Mahama.”