The World Beyond (7 page)

It was getting dark. The forest was now full of mysterious shadows and whisperings. He felt sorry for the goat, tethered as it was, at the edge of the clearing. The servants were still setting up the machan. Some crickets started clapping their wings just as a firefly flashed its light in the darkness.

There was a sudden movement in the grass. Salim became alert. ‘Looks like she’s found us,’ he whispered. It was just a rabbit. It darted off as soon as it saw him. ‘Ahmed, the tigress will be upon us any minute now. Let’s not tarry.’

He hobbled towards the machan. How long were those incompetent nincompoops going to take to set it up? He had walked a mere ten paces when he felt something behind him. He turned around sharply.

Sure enough, the rusty-brown tigress was stealthily padding towards the goat, its tail shot up in the air. The goat began to bleat hysterically.

Salim jumped onto Afreen’s back post-haste while Ahmed ran to fetch his rifle. Snatching his gun, Salim took aim just as the tigress sprang on the goat. The bullet hit her on the thigh. She let out a pained menacing roar.

The servants rushed to the spot upon hearing the roar. One look at the tigress and they froze on the spot, stupefied.

In spite of her limp, the tigress turned towards Salim. Her tail twitched from side to side, accelerating to a furious lashing as she charged towards him. His hands shook violently as he pointed his gun at her and fired. It missed. Beads of perspiration gathered on his brow. ‘Ya Ali,’ he muttered as he took aim again. But before he could fire, she had sprung on him with one fluid movement and knocked him off the horse.

Ahmed fired. Although it missed the tigress, the sound distracted her. Her whiskers shot upwards, bristling with fury as she turned to Ahmed and roared again.

Scrambling to his feet, Salim put some distance between himself and his tormentor. ‘Khurram baba, my rifle!’ he shouted as he threw his empty gun away. He was breathing hard through his open mouth.

Just then Ahmed tripped over a stump and fell. His rifle flew out of his hands. He turned white as he stared at the tigress. She was just a yard away from him. He sat there, petrified, unable to move.

‘Quick,’ Salim yelled as the tigress inched closer to Ahmed. Two servants rushed to Ahmed and dragged him back into the bushes. Khurram baba came running, a double-barrelled pistol in his hands. Salim snatched the loaded pistol and fired one shot after another till no more bullets were left.

The tigress roared one last time, then lay still. Thick, sticky blood oozed out of her.

Salim sank to the ground and wiped away the perspiration. He looked at the tigress. The black stripes on her coat shimmered. She was almost ten feet long and was at the prime of her life. It was a pity he had to kill something so majestic. He got up and patted Afreen. She was shaken, but otherwise unhurt. The servants gathered around him, praising him for his bravery.

He looked at Ahmed. Ahmed raised his right hand to his forehead and saluted him. ‘I owe you this one, Salim mia,’ he said, his voice still quivering. Salim gave him a small smile. Then he lifted the flap of his tent and went in.

No sooner had Salim stepped out of his tent the next morning, than he was greeted by the cook.

‘Good morning, Chote Nawab.’ The cook raised his right hand to his forehead and bowed. ‘When should I serve food?’ he asked.

Salim took a deep breath of the crisp morning air before replying. ‘I’ll be back in an hour. We’ll have breakfast and leave shortly after that.’

‘Whatever you wish, Chote Nawab.’ The cook bowed and left.

As Salim and Ahmed cantered through the woods, Salim looked around. The forest looked different as the morning light filtered feebly through the dense foliage. There was a fresh nip in the light breeze that blew in from the north. It made the leaves on the trees rustle like the ghungroos on a tawaif’s feet. The dewdrops on a giant spider’s web swayed and sparkled like jewels as they caught the faint sunlight.

‘You go ahead, Salim mia,’ said Ahmed. ‘I’ll join you in a few minutes. And take Toofan with you.’

Salim hadn’t realised that, while his eyes had been feasting on the grandeurs of Mother Nature, Ahmed’s eyes had caught something else. He followed Ahmed’s gaze and noticed some village girls in the distance. They were giggling and squealing with laughter as they collected wood and twigs to light the fires at home. He gave a lopsided smile and shook his head as he patted Afreen and took the reins of Toofan in his hands. Ahmed would be back soon. For all his interest in girls, he was as scared of them as a rabbit is of a fox.

As Salim trotted along under the low-lying branch of a peepal tree, someone jumped down from the branch onto Toofan’s back and made off with the horse. For a moment Salim stood dumbfounded. Was it the ghost that lived on the peepal tree? The one that the villagers had been talking about? Of course not. It was a thief. Salim kicked Afreen furiously and galloped after the thief. Soon Afreen was abreast of Toofan and Salim managed to get hold of his reins. He tugged hard at them and brought Toofan to a halt. The thief jumped off the horse and was about to make his escape when Salim grabbed hold of him.

‘You impertinent thief!’ he cried. ‘You think you can escape after trying to steal the nawab’s horse?’

‘I’m not a thief,’ the thief mumbled indignantly through clenched teeth. ‘I was just borrowing the horse as mine has run away.’

Before Salim had time to reply, he had been punched hard in the stomach with an elbow. He groaned but did not loosen his grip on the thief. In the scuffle that followed, the thief’s hat came loose and a waterfall of golden hair came cascading down. Salim stared at the hair and then at the thief in disbelief. His lips parted slightly as he narrowed his eyes to gaze into a pair of deep-blue ones.

Chapter Six

R
ACHAEL

Rachael couldn’t help giggling at the look of shock on her captor’s face. He looked so familiar – those eyes, that long black hair, that firm chin. Where had she seen him before? Who was he? He was the only native she had come across who was taller than her. He must be a prince, she decided.

He abruptly let go of her.

‘I’d stopped for just two minutes to pick up some wild flowers – you know, those yellow flowers? And the moment I got off the horse, he just galloped away …’ Rachael trailed off as she found him staring at her hands.

She looked at him perplexed, and nervously played with the ring on her finger. He stared at them even harder, before clutching them.

‘Ya Ali, were you playing the piano a few days back at Colonel Bristow’s house?’ he asked urgently, as he turned her hands over and over, as though looking for a clue to some hidden treasure.

‘Yes, I’m his daughter.’

‘And were you in Chowk a few days back in a burqa?’ he asked as he gently rubbed the diamond on her ring.

Rachael shifted uncomfortably and took her time before answering. She remembered now why he seemed familiar. She had seen him at Bade Miyan’s shop.

‘Maybe,’ she answered softly.

‘I knew I’d recognise these hands anywhere.’

‘My hands,’ said Rachael.

‘Yes?’

‘You’re still holding them.’

‘Oh, I’m s-sorry …’ the prince stuttered as he let go of them.

‘Sir, I had no intention of stealing your horse.’

The prince raised a brow.

Fiddling with her ring, Rachael answered, ‘I was simply borrowing it as my own horse has run away. So if you would be so kind, lend me a horse and I’ll quietly take my leave.’

‘I’m afraid not, ma’am,’ the prince answered in clipped tones. ‘You’re my responsibility now. As long as you’re with me, you’re not going anywhere alone. You shall join us for breakfast and then we shall safely escort you home.’ His voice was deep, confident, authoritative.

Rachael groaned inwardly. Now she was in even more trouble. Not only had she left home when she shouldn’t have and been stranded in the forest by her runaway horse, but now she was going to be escorted home by the nabob’s entourage. She could just imagine the look on Papa’s face when he saw her regal homecoming. Not to mention how horrified he was going to be when he saw what she was wearing. It felt so liberating, though, wearing breeches, not having to sit side-saddle in an irritating long skirt over which she often tripped. How she wished she was a man.

She had not intended to stray so far. Since she was taking her meals in her room, she would not be missed as long as she managed to sneak back before late afternoon. After all, everything had worked out smoothly on the last two occasions she had sneaked out of the house. But now she was in big trouble, and all because of that prince! Rachael’s forehead creased slightly. What was his name? Not that she cared. If he had not caught her and insisted there was no way she was going out of the jungle alone, she would be home by now. That arrogant man! He had annihilated all chances of getting back home unnoticed.

Walking about restlessly, she hit the trees with the long twig that she had found. She swung it in the air, brandishing it like a sword, then poked the stones lying buried in the earth with it. Then with a sigh she sat down on the stump of a tree and watched the servants bustling about preparing breakfast and laying out the food. There were others who were busy dismantling the machan and folding the tents where the party had slept last night.

The diamond on her ring sparkled as it caught a beam of sunlight filtering in through the leaves of the tree under which she sat. Just then she noticed something glittering at her feet as well. She picked it up and dusted it. It was a black, velvet, bejewelled cap. It must belong to the prince. She put it on and walked over to the watering hole.

Peering down at her reflection, she said in a gruff voice, ‘As long as you’re with me—’

‘Interesting, very interesting,’ a voice chuckled behind her.

Rachael hastily turned around. It was the prince. With him was a rotund young man in an angarkha and wide-bottomed pyjamas. He wore a pearl necklace, earrings and a huge stone on his forefinger.

‘I’ve never met anyone like you before. An English girl in men’s trousers, wearing a nawab’s cap,’ said the prince.

Rachael gave an embarrassed grin and took off the cap.

‘May I be so bold to ask whether you work for the theatre, ma’am?’ the prince’s companion asked, looking down.

‘For heaven’s sake, no. Pray, whatever gave you the idea?’ replied Rachael.

The young man looked at the prince then cleared his throat. ‘Well, the first time we saw you, you were in a burqa, the second time you were in a dress and now … or perhaps you work for a costume company?’

Laughing, Rachael picked up her stick and began making patterns on the ground with it.

‘Myself called Ahmed,’ the rotund young man continued. He touched his cap lightly as Rachael nodded her head. ‘I hope everything’s all right?’ he asked.

‘How could any—’ Rachael was about to hurl a tirade of abuse at the prince, but stopped short. She gathered her hair and twisted it into a knot at the top of her head. Turning to the prince she asked, ‘Are the nabob’s hunting parties similar to this?’

‘Not at all,’ the prince replied. ‘This was an emergency hunt. No frills. You ought to have seen Nawab Asaf-ud-Daula’s hunting parties. He was the ….’ The prince paused and rubbed his chin. ‘Yes, he was the fourth nawab of Avadh. His hunting parties had no fewer than eight hundred elephants. One elephant was used simply for carrying all his rifles. There’d be dancing girls, singers, musicians and hawkers selling all kinds of wares. It looked more like a caravan than a hunting party.’

‘And Nabob Wajid Ali Shah’s?’ asked Rachael.

‘He’s not keen on hunting … It’s no longer what it used to be. Anyway, breakfast will be served soon. Do let me know if you need anything,’ said the prince.

Then the two men touched their caps slightly, bowed and left.

Rachael thanked the servant and sat down on the rug spread out for her. She swallowed as she looked at the breakfast spread before her. She had never imagined breakfast to be so lavish, and that, too, in the forest. There were cakes, biscuits, fried fish, boiled fish, different types of curry, parathas, rogni rotis, pickled salmon, sausages, tea, coffee, wine. This was a feast! She felt full just looking at it.

The servants were fussing over the prince. They called him Chote Nawab. She wondered what it meant. He smiled at her as he took a bite of the rogni roti.

‘What took you to Chowk the other day?’ he asked.

‘How can you be so sure it was me?’

The prince looked her straight in the eye, then glanced at her hands and replied quietly, ‘I’m sure!’

Rachael pecked at her paratha, wiped her lips with the serviette then answered, ‘I’d gone to ask Bade Miyan whether he knows someone who can teach me Hindustani music.’

‘You want to learn Hindustani music? Why?’

‘Because … I don’t know. I suppose because I love it.’

She shifted uncomfortably and wished he would not stare at her like that.

He collected himself and, looking at his food, said, ‘I could teach you.’

‘You could? But where?’

‘At my palace, of course.’

‘Father would never give me his permission.’

‘I will teach you on one condition.’

‘What?’ Rachael asked suspiciously.

‘That you teach me how to play the piano.’ His face was serious as he spoke. But his smouldering eyes – they were teasing her, baiting her, goading her to accept the challenge.

A couple of hours had elapsed since Rachael had finished her breakfast. Although it was mid morning, it felt like dawn, as the trees shut out most of the sunlight. Rachael watched with interest as the men tied the tigress to either ends of the pole. It was such a beautiful creature. Even in death it looked regal and awe-inspiring. Once the tiger had been secured and lifted onto the shoulders of six sturdy men, the party was ready to move back to Lucknow.

She smiled as a servant trotted up to her with a horse. So Chestnut had been found. She patted her horse lovingly and thanked the servant. As she mounted Chestnut, she glanced at the prince. He was explaining something to the man who rode right in front. Perhaps explaining a shorter way to reach Lucknow, she hoped. Even though it was still morning, it was already warm. Mother must have made sure all the windows had been shut and the khus mats sprinkled with water. Rachael watched the prince as he took one last look at the victorious hunting party, then trotted back to ride beside her.