The World Beyond (31 page)

‘No, Salim mia, I just ca—’

‘You were going, Ahmed,’ Salim said smoothly, pushing him off the bed.

‘All right, I’m leaving. Good day, Rachael ma’am.’

‘Goodbye, Ahmed,’ Rachael replied. Salim could hear the amusement in her voice.

‘I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to speak to you about something,’ Salim said.

‘Yes?’

Salim cleared his throat. ‘Can I have some water please?’

Rachael handed him an abkhora. The water was cool and smelt of the moist clay of which the earthenware vessel was made.

‘I know I proposed to you …’ He took her hand in his and touched the ring on her ring finger. ‘I can see you’re wearing it. But …’ He paused, struggling for the right words. ‘I want my ring back.’

‘What?’

‘You don’t want to marry a blind man.’

‘You can walk, can’t you?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘You can hear, speak?’

‘Ya Ali, I’m blind, not deaf and dumb.’

‘Exactly. Everyone has a flaw. You can’t see, I can’t sing. Nobody’s perfect, remember?’

Salim shook his head slowly as a small smile lifted the corners of his mouth. ‘How easily you have said this, RayChal. Have you any idea how difficult it’s going to be for you?’

‘Pray tell me what I have to do to convince you? Should I tie a cloth over my eyes like Gandhari?’

‘How do you know about Gandhari?’

‘Ayah and Ram Singh used to tell me stories from the
Ramayana
and
Mahabharata
when I was little.’

‘But I’ll feel—’

Rachael put a finger on his lips. ‘Hush. I will either marry you or none at all.’

It was almost three months since Salim had come round and he hadn’t felt better in a long time. He lifted his sword high and brought it down with a clang on Ahmed’s sword.

‘Not bad, Chote Nawab, not bad at all,’ said Daima as she entered the living room with a tray of food. She put her hand lovingly on his cheek. ‘How are you feeling today, my son?’

He sniffed the air appreciatively.

Daima laughed. ‘I’ve made all your favourite dishes and am going to feed you myself.’

As she put a morsel of rumali roti and kebab in Salim’s mouth, Ahmed chirped, ‘Daima, for me?’

‘Go away, you glutton … this is only for my son,’ said Daima.

‘Let him also eat, Daima. Otherwise he’ll cast an evil eye on me and I won’t be able be digest the food,’ said Salim.

‘Aah!’ Ahmed opened his mouth wide.

‘Eat it yourself,’ scoffed Daima. She fed Salim a morsel. ‘Those brutes! As though taking my son and daughter wasn’t enough, they had to leave you blind as well.’ She began to sniff.

‘Who said I can’t see?’ Salim said. ‘As long as you’re there, Ahmed is there, RayChal is there, how can I not see?’

Daima hugged Salim and started crying even more loudly. ‘Chote Nawab?’

‘Yes, Daima?’

‘I have always been like a mother to you?’

‘Ya Ali, you
are
my mother. Why do you ask?’

‘And I have never asked you for anything … If I ask you for something today, will you do it for me?’

‘Can I ever say no to you, Daima?’

‘Leave this country … Go and settle down somewhere with Rachael … Where these brutal firangis can never reach you.’

‘You’re right, Daima. This war, this enmity, this bloodshed is not for us.’ It was Rachael.

Now when did she come in? How long had she been there? Had she seen Daima feeding him? Salim felt a little embarrassed at the thought.

‘Besides …’ Rachael paused and sat down on the bed next to Salim, adding shyly, ‘I don’t want our baby to grow up here.’

‘Why, what’s wro—?’ Salim stopped speaking, his mouth falling open. ‘What did you say? Our baby? Our
baby
, RayChal?’

‘Congratulations, Salim mia. I’m going to become an uncle,’ Ahmed gushed.

‘Hai Ram, I shall have to get you two married soon,’ said a worried Daima.

A slow smile spread over Salim’s face. He found Rachael’s hand and pressed it hard. He knew Rachael was smiling and blushing, her face turning red. Suddenly the pain, the hopelessness he had been feeling since he had lost his sight seemed far away. A baby, his baby, his own flesh.

‘But what do you mean? Why can’t our son grow up here? Both his parents did?’ he asked.

‘It’s not the same,’ replied Rachael.

Salim did not say anything.

‘It’s not the city we grew up in,’ she continued. ‘It’s a dead city. Kaiserbagh has been demolished. I have never seen anything so beautiful so ruthlessly destroyed before. Each time I remember what Lucknow was and what it has now become, my heart weeps. We have to go, Salim, we must.’ She grabbed Salim’s hand with both her hands and shook it hard. ‘I cannot bear this grief anymore. I don’t want my child to grow up playing with skeletons and bones. Do you remember what you had promised me in Vilayati Bagh? That you would make a Dooja Jahaan, another world for me?’

Salim’s Adam’s apple moved, but his face betrayed no emotions. He nodded quietly.

‘Let’s take him to another world, to a world beyond the reach of hatred and brutality,’ Rachael added.

Salim took Rachael’s hand in his and kissed it tenderly. He looked up when he heard the shuffling of feet near the door.

‘Have the others left?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes,’ Rachael whispered.

A soft smile spread across his face as his thoughts turned once more to his baby.

Salim knew it was a bright sunny day. He could sense an orange glow through his vacant eyes as he entered the church. He fidgeted with his collar as he waited in front of the altar, with Ahmed beside him. It was cool inside the church. He could smell incense, candles burning and fresh roses and lilies. The church bells began to ring and someone started playing the organ.

‘She’s here,’ Ahmed whispered as he nudged Salim with his elbow.

‘What’s she doing?’ Salim asked.

‘She’s entering the church slowly, on Ram Singh’s arm. He’s feeling ill at ease in a suit,’ he chortled.

Salim wiped the sweat from his brow.

‘Nervous, Salim mia?’

‘Ya Ali, why should I be nervous? I’m not a girl,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Tell me, how’s she looking?’

‘Like a lovely orange jalebi, dipped in lots of syrup,’ Ahmed gushed.

Salim shook his head in exasperation. ‘Ya Ali, tell me the colour of the dress she’s wearing.’

‘It’s orange, the colour of kesar …’

Salim covered his mouth. ‘Yes! I knew it. She must look like the sun at dawn, slowly rising in the east, to start a new day, a new life.’

Chapter Thirty-Three

R
ACHAEL

Rachael looked around the church pensively. It was a small deserted church. Two candles burnt at the altar. All except the first row of pews were empty. Since she was a little girl she had imagined walking into a packed church on Papa’s arms, a large banquet and lots of dancing.

‘My Rachael’s wedding’s going to be so grand the whole of Lucknow will be talking about it for days. Even the nabob,’ Papa used to say.

She fidgeted with her veil as she heard Salim ask Ahmed what she was wearing. Today, more than ever, she wished he could see. She wanted him to see his bride.
Why, oh why, Papa, did you do it?
And what was worse, he didn’t regret it. ‘I could have done worse. I could have killed him. After all, he was a rebel,’ he had said.

She stole a look at Salim. He looked charming in a cream angarkha with fine gold embroidery and cream wide-bottomed pyjamas. His cap and pointed shoes were the same colour and were also embroidered in gold. He had tied a black cloth over his eyes, which gave him a mysterious charm.

Rachael looked at Mother. She had promised she would come for the wedding when she went to invite her. Since her outburst that day in Alambagh, Mother was making an effort to reach out to her daughter. She still wasn’t able to display her affections much, but the ice that had gathered around her heart all those years ago was slowly melting. She did not approve of her marrying a native, and him an invalid too, but agreed to go with whatever Rachael wanted. Earlier Rachael would have put it down to indifference. But now she knew it was her way of saying that in Rachael’s happiness lay her happiness.

Mother looked at her just then and their eyes met. She smiled and gesticulated that Rachael was looking lovely. Rachael smiled back at her. The priest commenced the sermon and she turned back to look at the altar.

He was now reading the marriage vows. Rachael’s hands shook a little as she put the ring on Salim’s finger.

After they were pronounced man and wife, the small party traipsed back to the country house.

Rachael walked over to the basin. The room used to be a guest bedroom. Now it was being used as a changing room for the bride. She splashed some cold water on her face. She hoped the nikaahnama would be over soon so she could slip into some light cotton garments.

‘The moulvi is here … are you ready?’ said Daima, coming into the room.

Rachael blushed as Daima looked her over from head to toe.

‘My, how lovely you look … I’m sure Chote Nawab couldn’t take his eyes off you,’ said Daima. Then realising what she had just said, she became sober. She gave her a box carved intricately in silver and lined with velvet. ‘Open it … It’s yours.’

Rachael opened the box. There was a magnificent gold necklace inlaid with rubies and diamonds with matching earrings and bracelets.

‘This is beautiful, Daima. But I can’t accept it.’

‘You can’t say no, as it belongs to you … It has merely been in my safe keeping for the last eighteen-odd years.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Daima smiled. ‘When Salim was about five, he saw me getting dressed on Eid … my husband was alive then … Salim saw this necklace … Janab-e-Alia had given it to me as a wedding present … I was about to put it on when he said, “I want to wear it.” I said to him, “This is a girl’s necklace … everyone will tease you and call you a girl if you wear it.” He pouted … I could not see him sad … so I said to him, “I’ll give this necklace to your wife, all right, Chote Nawab?” He nodded … A few days later, when I wore the same necklace for a wedding, he scolded me: “Daima, why are you wearing my wife’s necklace?” … After that I never wore it again.’

Rachael hugged the old woman. ‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you ever so much.’

Daima led her into the living room. The room had been divided into two by curtains. Rachael sat down demurely on the takhat with Daima. The moulvi was seated with Salim and Ahmed on the other side of the curtain. He began reading the nikaahnama. She couldn’t comprehend a word of what he was saying. She looked at Daima bewildered.

‘Don’t worry … just imitate me,’ said Daima.

Daima lowered her head. Rachael lowered hers. Daima nodded. Rachael nodded as well.

Just then the moulvi’s daughter appeared at the door and gestured to Daima. Daima nodded, then waved at her. Rachael nodded and waved. Daima smacked her head lightly. Rachael stuck out her tongue and grinned.

The nikaah was soon over and food was served. Rachael was still eating when Mother approached her. ‘I ought to leave now or your papa will get suspicious.’ She clutched her hands. ‘You must leave Lucknow soon. Tomorrow night. Somebody whispered to your father that you’re planning to marry Salim. He’s been looking for him since.’

‘Yes, Mother, we’ll leave tomorrow.’

‘I shall be here at midnight.’

‘Yes, Mother.’

Later that night, Rachael looked at Salim as he sat back against the oblong pillow and locked his hands behind his head. She put her head on his lap. Salim placed his hand gently, then firmly, on her belly. ‘My son,’ he said possessively. ‘We’ll call him Rahim. “Ra” from RayChal and “im” from Salim.’

‘What about the “h”?’

‘Ya Ali, let the poor child have at least one letter that he can call his own.’

Rachael laughed. ‘And pray tell me, what is
my
say in the matter?’

He caught hold of a tendril of her hair and twirled it around his finger. ‘My love, you will get to fill his life with a ray of sunshine, the sound of music and the fragrance of love.’

Rachael smiled. Rahim. Son of R
a
chael and Sal
im
. She liked the name. Walking over to the mirror, she looked at her reflection. Her stomach was still flat. She could not feel him at all. But she knew he was there, growing steadily. Soon she would feel him move, feel him hiccuping, feel his kicks, which would become stronger with each passing day.

‘I think we’d better get some sleep tonight. I know not how long it’ll be before we’re able to get a good night’s sleep again.’

He clasped her hands. ‘A groom is supposed to give his wife a present on this special night. But I have nothing.’

‘But you already have,’ she replied as she placed his hand on the necklace she wore.

Salim felt the gold, the smoothness of the rubies, the diamonds. ‘Is it? Ya Ali, it’s the necklace. Daima remembered? She still had it?’

Rachael ruffled his hair. ‘You were just five! How sweet. You’re blushing. You’re actually blushing.’ She placed something in his hands. ‘I’ve something for you as well.’ She watched him as he ran his fingers over the holes.

‘It’s the flute I gave you,’ he said.

‘Play it,’ she said softly. ‘It’s been so long since we heard the sound of music. Pray bring it back into our lives.’

Salim put the flute to his lips. She watched him, fascinated. She had not seen him so serene for a long time. It was as though he was in a trance. There was so much pain, so much passion and longing in the tune he played. Tears sprang to her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.

The room went quiet as he finished playing. ‘That was heart-wrenching, Salim,’ she said. He merely patted her hand and put down the flute.

Rachael walked over to the window and opened it. The crescent moon hung low in the sky. A refreshing breeze wafted in. So too did the sound of hyenas howling in the distance. The smell of leftover food emanated from the kitchen. She wondered what it must feel like to sleep outside.

As though reading her mind, Salim said, ‘You know, when I was about four or five, I’d often sleep on the terrace with Daima on nights like this. It used to be heavenly. The moist breeze from the Gomti lulled us to sleep and the sweet call of the peacocks woke us up. I’d lie there until late at night, counting the stars. Daima would point to the brightest of the lot. “See that star,” she’d say. “She’s your princess. You’ll marry her some day.” I would look at her perplexed and say, “What? Marry a star?” And she’d reply, “Don’t worry, she’ll come down to earth when the time is right.”’