The World Beyond (14 page)

‘Two months is too short a time. Give it a year and then Lucknow will run as efficiently as—’

‘By then it’ll have been reduced to a city without a soul,’ Rachael replied and left the table.

Rachael lifted the curtain and looked out of the carriage window as it halted outside the northern gate of the Kaiserbagh Palace. She gave a smile of relief as her eyes rested on Salim. She could scarce believe how happy she felt seeing him again. She had missed him every single day while she was in Mussorie.

He held out his hand to her. Rachael hesitated and furtively looked around.

‘Don’t worry. They are all my men. They will not dare say anything.’ Rachael took Salim’s hand and alighted from the carriage.

‘Memsahib, I come with you,’ said Sudha, as she got off the carriage hurriedly.

‘No, I’ll be fine. You wait for me in the carriage,’ said Rachael.

‘You look radiant. I think the crisp mountain air agreed with you,’ Salim said as he led her to a row of shops. ‘And here I was hoping you would have become lean and haggard, pining for me,’ he added with a grin.

Rachael blushed and didn’t know what to say. She smiled and nodded her head slightly as Ahmed dawdled towards them and greeted her by raising his right hand to his forehead. ‘I had no idea there were shops in Kaiserbagh,’ she said as she looked at the stores beneath the vaulted arcade. There were shops selling jewellery, gold and silver, glass bangles, silks, shoes, spices, shawls, utensils, rugs and carpets, and birds in cages. There were even tea stalls and paan shops.

‘These shops are for the begums. So they don’t have to leave the confines of the palace to do their shopping,’ Salim replied.

‘Chutki!’ Ahmed exclaimed.

Rachael turned. Just ten paces away from her stood a young girl clad in a bright marigold-coloured shirt and a green Gypsy skirt. She was haggling with the shopkeeper. ‘If you reduce the price I’ll take both the pink and the red lehenga …’ She turned as she heard Ahmed’s voice.

‘Salim bhai, salaam. What a surprise.’

Salim hugged her. Then turning to Rachael he said, ‘Meet my sister, Chutki, Daima’s daughter.’

Rachael extended her hand as she said, ‘Hello.’

Chutki let her eyes rest on Rachael. ‘Salim bhai, I’m afraid you won’t find any foreign goods in Meena Bazaar …’ she said.

Rachael fiddled with the ribbons of her bonnet, unsure of what to do or say.

‘RayChal, our Chutki’s going to be married soon,’ Salim said. ‘She’s shopping for her trousseau, I think.’ His eyes twinkled as he brought his mouth close to Chutki’s ear and lowered his voice. ‘Someone told me your fiancé sent you a gift two days back and you sent him a letter in return. The letter smelt of rajnigandha, I’m told.’

Chutki blushed. She covered her face with her hands, and with an ‘Oh Salim bhai’, ran away giggling.

Rachael looked at Ahmed who had sauntered over to a paan shop. She tugged at Salim’s shirt urgently as Ahmed tucked a paan into his mouth. ‘I want to try one of those,’ she said.

‘Are you sure?’ Salim asked, his brows raised, as he took a paan from Ahmed and handed it to her.

‘Yes,’ replied Rachael as she put the green cone in her mouth. Salim and Ahmed watched her with an amused look.

She bit into it. The betel leaf was easy to chew. But the filling … She felt as though she had put a leaf full of juicy pebbles into her mouth. She bit hard but the pebbles were harder. And her mouth was getting filled with this strange orange juice. She tried to swallow it but it dribbled over her lower lip and chin.

She looked at Ahmed, then at Salim. He gave her a devilish grin, and with his hands behind his back, came closer. And closer. Oh no. Her eyes grew wider as he came even closer. What did he have in mind?

Still grinning, he brought his right hand forward and placed a spittoon under her chin. Oh, thank goodness. But what was she supposed to do with that shiny copper utensil? Suddenly she remembered. She had seen a begum spit in one in the zenana.

She lowered her eyes, covered her mouth with her hand and self-consciously spat out the contents of her mouth. As she wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, she stole a glance at Salim. His eyes were still laughing. She crinkled up her nose and smiled, a slow flush creeping up her cheeks.

Oh, how she had missed him in Mussorie. And now that she was back in Lucknow, standing beside him in his own palace grounds, she felt a strange thrill every time he teased her, and wished the day would never end.

Chapter Fourteen

S
ALIM

Salim patted Afreen’s back as she trotted beneath the lofty gateway and made her way through the shrubbery. She stopped before the Khushnuma Palace on the banks of the Gomti. Salim got off and tethered her to an orange tree. He gave a slight nod to the guardsman who stood at the palace door as he saluted him.

As soon as he entered the octagonal hall facing Gomti, he saw chachi, Ahmed’s mother, seated on the takhat. ‘Aadaab, chachijaan,’ he said pleasantly as he raised his right hand to his forehead. ‘Is Ahmed home?’

‘Aadaab, Salim mia. I’ll send for Ahmed in a minute, but sit down beside me for a few minutes,’ she said as she patted the takhat.

Salim sat down reluctantly.

‘Whenever you come here, you’re in a hurry,’ she said as she cut a betel nut into little pieces. ‘I don’t get to see you at all.’

‘Cha—’ Salim stopped speaking as he heard some loud voices outside.

An English officer called Jackson barged into the hall, followed closely by Ahmed.

‘Salim mia, this firangi says we have to leave the palace,’ said a ruffled Ahmed.

‘What?’ Salim asked.

‘Gentlemen, I have orders from the Company that this palace needs to be vacated,’ Jackson said in clipped tones, waving a set of papers at Salim.

‘You’ve no right to throw us out of our home,’ said Ahmed.

‘He’s right. The Company promised at the time of annexation that it shall have no access to Kaiserbagh, Farhat Baksh, Moti Mahal, Khursheed Manzil and Khushnuma Palace. These palaces are for the sole use of my family. So leave us alone,’ Salim ground out through clenched teeth.

‘Leave these premises quietly, or I shall have to use force,’ the angrez hissed.

‘We’re not going to budge from here. This is our home,’ Ahmed replied and sat down stubbornly on the takhat.

Jackson barked to his men: ‘Go and empty all the rooms. Throw out all their belongings on the street.’

Salim and Ahmed drew their swords as the men stormed into the zenana. Four men hastily drew their guns and held them to their heads. Salim pursed his lips and let his sword drop to the floor. He stood helplessly as a sound akin to the clucking of hens when a fox breaks into the henhouse rose from the zenana, followed by a scurrying of feet. Chachi broke down into sobs. He saw Ahmed flinch at the sound of boxes, utensils, portraits being thrown out of the palace and pursed his lips.

Soon he and Ahmed were led into the garden. Jackson shot a sardonic look at him, then locked the palace door.

‘I’m going to drink their blood, bloody firangis!’ Ahmed shouted as the dust and the galloping horses faded into the distance. He looked at his mother, his sisters, his grandparents, huddled together, too shocked to speak. ‘How dare they humiliate us in this manner, Salim mia! How
dare
they!’ He kicked a copper vessel lying at his feet. ‘My sisters who have never left the confines of our home without purdah. Look at them now.’

Salim put his hand on Ahmed’s shoulder. He had never seen him so angry before. ‘Ahmed, we’ll deal with them later. Right now we need to take care of your family. Let me go to Kaiserbagh and send you a carriage.’

He could not believe what had just happened. He kicked Afreen to make her go faster. As if auctioning Abba Huzoor’s animals, taking possession of his rare collection of three hundred thousand books, raiding Macchi Bhawan, turning Qadam Rasul into a storehouse for gunpowder, demolishing gateways and kothis wasn’t enough, they had now turned Ahmed and his family out on the streets. Made them homeless in minutes, just like that. The ignominy, the humiliation. If only Abba Huzoor knew. If only he had known this was how the Company was going to treat his family, his Lucknow, he would have never given up the throne without a fight. Never. He was sure of that.

That evening Salim stood near the pond at the edge of the Kaiserbagh garden. More than half the water of the pond was covered with floating lotus leaves. A cricket landed on one and began chirping by rubbing its wings together. Salim hacked angrily with his sword at the tufts of grass that had grown around the pond. If only it were possible to hack off Jackson’s head as easily. A hand touched his shoulder lightly.

‘Salim?’ It was Rachael.

Salim slowly shrugged the hand off without turning around. He began digging furiously at the roots of some weeds with his sword.

‘That’s not the way a prince behaves towards a lady,’ Rachael playfully quipped.

He clenched his teeth. His chin jutted out. So madam was here to teach him manners, was she? After all, she was one of them. He dropped the sword, spun on his heels and grabbed her forearms. ‘No. I don’t know how to behave towards a lady as I’m
not
a prince. Don’t you know my father has been deposed?’

He let go of her arms abruptly. She fell back, too stunned to speak. Salim raked his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m a pagan, a wretch, a sav—,’ he shouted, his eyes blazing. He noticed the look of shock on Rachael’s face and stopped speaking.

He turned away from her, intently studying the still waters of the pond.

‘This is not like you, Salim. Pray tell me what troubles you,’ Rachael asked carefully.

‘I should have asked you not to come today,’ he replied gloomily.

‘Why? I thought we were friends? Surely you can tell me? Or do you still regard me as …?’ Her voice trailed away as she fidgeted with the diamond on her ring.

‘Ahmed lost his home today.’

‘What?’

‘He and his family were thrown out of their palace by the Company.’

Rachael covered her mouth in horror. ‘But how awful. The Company has the right to do that?’

Salim did not answer. He shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands helplessly, then let them fall limply to his side. He turned away from the pond. Some of the lotus foliage and tubers had turned yellow. They were beginning to rot and were filling the air with a putrid smell. He started walking towards the rotunda.

Rachael walked beside him in silence.

‘Ya Ali, what a friend I am. I should be with Ahmed and here I am promenading in the garden …’

‘Where is he? His family?’

‘In the Kaiserbagh Palace. They’ll be living with us now.’

‘And you say you’re not a good friend? You’re the kind of friend a person would die for.’

Salim looked at her. She was not joking. She shivered slightly in the light November breeze.

‘Memsahib, we must be leaving. It getting dark, you see. Otherwise barre sahib getting angry.’ It was Sudha who had hitherto been waiting in the carriage.

‘I ought to take my leave now,’ Rachael said.

He nodded. ‘And I ought to apologise for my behaviour earlier this evening but I don’t know how to.’

Rachael looked at him, lines creasing her forehead. ‘Apologise? For what? I don’t know about Anarkali’s Salim but
my
Prince Salim can do no wrong,’ she said with a smile.

He smiled back, his eyes soft and moist. A lock of Rachael’s hair had come loose and he curbed the desire to tuck it behind her ear. ‘Goodbye, RayChal,’ he whispered. He watched the carriage trundle away until the gathering darkness swallowed it and he could see no more.

Salim plucked a red rosebud. The petals were tightly shut as though the flower was not yet ready for the onslaught of the bees and butterflies. It held its soft dewy fragrance deep inside. He tucked it in Rachael’s hair, just behind her ear.

‘I wish we could meet more often. It’s almost two months since we last met.’

‘We could, if it wasn’t for fear of upsetting your father.’

Rachael chuckled. ‘Pray, what did you say the name of this garden was?’ she asked.

‘Vilayati Bagh. Vilayati means “foreigner”. See, one of the wives of Nawab Ghazi-ud-Din Haider, my great-great uncle, was English. He built this garden for her, hence the name.’

‘Hmm, interesting. So are you also going to name a garden after me?’ she asked, an impish smile reaching her eyes.

‘Maybe … and it’ll be more beautiful than anything that man ever laid his eyes on.’

Rachael looked around and said, ‘I cannot imagine anything more beautiful than this.’

She was right. Vilayati Bagh was indeed one of the most beautiful gardens in Lucknow. The latticed kiosks, the fountains, the statues, the sheltered walks, the alcoves, the platform for the dancers and the orchestra, the riot of flowers that gave the impression that a painter had run amok on his palette; the tall tamarind and cypress trees standing guard over the orange plantation and the company of one’s beloved made the picture complete.

Salim turned to Rachael and drawled, ‘It’ll be like Jannat, paradise. It’ll have every conceivable flower on this planet. We’ll call it Dooja Jahaan, the world beyond. A world beyond the reach of ordinary human existence. A world created out of love. And only lovers will be allowed in the garden.’

Rachael laughed.

He watched her as though hypnotised. Subhaan Allah! Why was she so perfect? Even her laughter was so pleasant, like wind chimes.

‘Why are you looking at me like this?’ Rachael asked.

‘Nothing. Just hoarding memories. They’ll be useful when you get engaged to someone.’

‘Won’t you stop me?’

‘Do I have the right to?’

‘You still have doubts?’

‘But your father will never give me the right.’

‘I’m sure I could coax him.’

Salim’s eyes held hers. He continued to look into her eyes as he lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips.

They were standing close to a fountain consisting of a ripple-carved block of stone. It was placed at an angle of forty-five degrees to give the effect of a waterfall. Salim could taste the moisture in the air. Neither of them spoke for a long time. They listened to the water from the fountain as it pattered on the still waters below. Like the sound of a baby’s feet on a tiled floor.