Flame Tree Road (25 page)

“Yes, approximately,” Biren replied. “Do you have a lot of luggage? These small dinghies don’t hold much.”

“We have three trunks and a couple of bags. But we decided we can take a few essentials and wait for our main luggage to come by the steamer a few days later.”

“Let me talk to these fellows,” Biren said.

At first, none of the fishermen were interested. One fisherman said it was his child’s rice-eating ceremony the following day, and the other one did not have a rowing partner and refused to make the journey back alone late at night for fear of river ghosts. Finally, two fishermen agreed, but first they would have to go back to the village and tell their families. And as it was already close to lunchtime, they would have lunch, then siesta. In other words, it would mean a delay of another three hours before they could start out.

“Three hours!” exclaimed Thompson. “What do they need three bloody hours for? We are willing to pay good money.”

The fishermen shook their heads.

“It’s not about the money,” Biren said, and tried to explain about the rice-eating ceremony, ghosts, lunch and siesta, none of which made any sense.

“That’s quite understandable,” Griffiths said affably.

“Don’t talk nonsense, Griffiths,” snapped Reginald Thompson. “This is completely unacceptable.” He clamped the pipe back into his mouth and glowered.

“Well, we might as well do some sightseeing while we wait,” said Griffiths. “This is a potters’ village. Maybe Roy can show us around.”

“I will be glad to,” Biren replied. “The village is a short walk from here.”

“I will stay right here, thank you,” said Thompson stiffly. “I don’t care to visit the village in this heat. And—” he waved his pipe in a threatening manner at Griffiths “—if you are late, I will just leave without you.”

“That’s unlikely,” replied Griffiths calmly. “The fishermen won’t leave before Roy here talks to them. Besides, what will you do here by yourself? Looks as if this tea shop is shutting down.”

“I can very well take care of myself, thank you,” growled Thompson.

“Well, cheerio, then.” Griffiths waved.

As Biren and he walked off together, Griffiths said, “Thompson is not a bad sort, really. He comes off a little gruff. He sprained his foot in Calcutta and it’s causing him a great deal of discomfort.”

“I just hope the fishermen show up like they promised,” said Biren. “I won’t be surprised if they go home and change their minds. I don’t really know these fellows. This is not my village. I live farther downstream.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried. Thompson is the one in a big hurry to get back. I wouldn’t mind staying the night in these parts. The steamer people were saying the jute mill has a rather nice guesthouse by the river where we could spend the night. I am very much tempted by the idea.”

“My father used to work in that jute mill before he died.”

“Did he, now? So tell me again, what are you doing here? You had just started to tell me about it.”

“I got my law degree in England and passed my civil-service exams. I came back to the village to see my mother. Now I am looking for a job in Calcutta,” said Biren. “I am also working with an organization to get government funding to set up schools for girls in Calcutta. This is a long-term project.”

“That’s marvelous,” said Griffiths. “Thompson is a big supporter of education. You should talk to him. Our office organizes fund-raising events for local schools in Silchar. Thompson is also on the board of the education council in Calcutta. Once a year he goes to attend their annual general meeting.”

That piqued Biren’s attention. “Is that a part of his job as the district commissioner?”

“I would say that is more to do with his personal interest. But in his position he is able to influence decisions. Thompson has two daughters. He is very particular about their schooling. His own mother was a highly educated woman—a famous philanthropist. She was well ahead of her time, I believe.”

“I wish I could talk to him more about it,” said Biren. “But he’s not too chatty at the moment, I suppose.”

“You’re right,” agreed Griffiths. “He’s too worried about getting home. But do drop him a letter and tell him about your plans for starting a school for girls. I think he will be most interested.”

“I may just do that,” said Biren. “But my first job is to get you both safely back to Silchar. I am just keeping my fingers crossed those fishermen show up.”

They were standing next to the clay-mixing pit, which still had wooden poles stuck into the mounds. The workers were gone for lunch. “Now, what are we looking at?” asked Griffiths. “Tell me about the potters. From what I have gathered about India, a potter will naturally belong to a potter caste, am I correct? I believe they also marry among themselves and live in the same village generation after generation. I find India fascinating. We have a weavers’ village near Silchar and it’s the same thing.”

“If you are born into a caste, you are automatically born into a trade at the same time,” explained Biren. “The tailor is of a higher caste than, say, the cobbler. A tailor’s daughter can never marry a cobbler’s son, as she would be marrying beneath her caste.”

“So are you going to marry the tailor’s daughter or the cobbler’s daughter?” quipped Griffiths.

Biren laughed. “I am afraid I am in no position to choose. I am casteless and jobless. In other words, completely ineligible.”

* * *

As promised, the fishermen showed up later that afternoon, and the Englishmen were sent on their way. That very evening Biren wrote Thompson a letter and mentioned the proposal for the education program. He also enclosed newspaper clippings of articles he had written for the
Bengal Star.
Little did Biren realize a broken-down steamer and his meeting with Reginald Thompson would play a pivotal role in shaping his own destiny.

CHAPTER

38

Nitin, who was now in his second year of medical college, wrote to say he would be coming home for a visit. The last time Biren had last seen him was five years ago, before he left for Cambridge.

Biren could hardly recognize the strapping young man who waved back at him from the steamer deck. Dressed in a handloom cotton kurta and horn-rimmed glasses, Nitin looked distinguished and scholarly.

“Dada!” he cried as the steamer neared the bank. He leaped onto the shore without waiting for the gangplank to be lowered, and they embraced each other.

“I would have never recognized you,” Biren said, stepping back to appraise him.

Nitin laughed. “You sent us a photograph from England but I had none to send you. So yes, I suppose you did not know what to expect.”

“Would you like some tea before we start back for home?” Biren asked, still trying to recover from the fact that this young man was his baby brother. He remembered Nitin as the small boy with a pensive face and hair falling over his eyes who liked to play with ants.

“I would love some tea,” Nitin said. “You have no idea how I miss the fisherman’s tea of home. In Calcutta, they flavor the tea with cardamom. I can’t stand it.”

They walked together to the tea stall. Nitin’s luggage consisted of only a cloth bag slung across his shoulder.

“I didn’t realize you would not have any luggage,” said Biren. “I got the bullock cart to take us home.”

“Forget the bullock cart, Dada. Should we send it back?” suggested Nitin. “I could do with the walk, if that’s all right. I need to stretch my legs. Besides, it will give us time to talk. There’s something I want to tell you before I see Ma and Uncle.”

They lit their cigarettes with the burning end of the hanging rope in the tea stall and carried their cups of steaming tea out to a log on the water’s edge.

“I got married,” said Nitin abruptly. “I don’t know how to break the news to Ma and Uncle. You must help me, Dada.”

Biren’s first thought was Nitin had got a girl into trouble. But that was not the case. Her name was Bela, he learned, and she was the sister of his friend from medical college. Bela came from a conservative business family of Calcutta. Her father owned several sari shops. Nitin and Bela had been meeting in secret for two years with her brother acting as the accomplice between them.

“I had plans to propose to her family after I finished college and got a job,” said Nitin. “Not that her parents would have approved of me—a village boy from Sylhet. No matter how educated I am, I will always be beneath their status. But still, I was prepared to propose formally when the time came. In the meantime Bela’s parents arranged her marriage to another.” He paused, crushing his cigarette into the mud cup.

“Then what happened?”

Nitin threw the mud cup into the river, startling a heron hiding in the rushes to take flight.

“We eloped. We went to the Kalighat Temple and got married by the priest,” he said.

“Where is Bela now? Did her parents find out?” Biren asked anxiously.

“Yes, her brother told them. They have disowned her. I arranged for Bela to live with an Anglo-Indian spinster as a paying guest, but I can’t afford it for long. I stay in the college hostel, as you know, so Bela can’t stay with me. I came home to tell Ma about all this. I want to bring Bela to the
basha
to stay with the family till I finish college and get a job. Then I will take her back to Calcutta.”

Nitin looked at Biren askance. “I don’t know how Ma is going to take this, Dada. You yourself are not married. A younger son should not get married before the older son. That, too, I did without the permission and blessings of the families.”

“First of all, I am really happy for you,” Biren said. “You married someone you love. It’s refreshing for a change.” He got to his feet. “Let’s walk back, shall we? I don’t think Ma will be displeased. She keeps moaning there is no daughter-in-law in the house and everybody has been after me to get married. I think you will help to take the attention off me. Do you know Ma is losing her eyesight? I am worried about her, brother.”

Nitin frowned. “I suspected that but she keeps denying it.” He walked with long, easy strides, his beautifully proportioned feet clad in a pair of open-toed Kolhapuri sandals. “So you have no plans to settle down soon, then?”

“I will have to find someone to elope with first, don’t you think?” Biren joked.

Nitin grew serious. “I didn’t have a choice, Dada. My intention was not to behave like a coward. I have lost the respect of my in-laws, and I don’t know if I will ever get it back. Eloping should be the very last resort. If you only knew Bela’s family you would realize I had little choice, after her hand was promised to another. She would have been married off within a month.”

Biren put his arm around Nitin’s shoulders. They were both almost the same height now.

“I am joking, of course, brother,” he said. “You were forced to do what you did. I am sure Bela is a very nice girl. As for my plans, I have applied for jobs in the civil service and I am also involved with an education project. Has Samaresh told you anything about it? We are trying to get funding from the British government to start a girls’ school. This venture is going to take up all my time, so marriage for me is probably not a good idea. But let’s first talk about you and how we can best break the news to the family.”

CHAPTER

39

Silchar

1st June 1894

Dear Mr. Roy,

It has been several months since our fateful meeting the day our steamer broke down near your village and you so kindly made arrangements with the locals to bring us to Silchar. The boat ride with the fishermen was harrowing to say the least and Griffiths will attest to that. But we managed to get back home safely, thanks to you putting us in the care of the trusted locals known to you.

I am writing this letter because I have a proposition to make. It is a job offer. I am hoping you will consider it. If I recall, you are a Cambridge-educated barrister. The Central Government in Silchar is looking to hire law professionals such as you. The burgeoning tea industry in Assam has put a lot of pressure on the local government in Silchar. There are laws and charters constantly being formulated and revised, pertaining largely to the river transportation and local governance. The salary and perks I think will meet your approval. I can tell you more about the job after I hear back from you indicating your interest. I am hoping you can come to Silchar to meet with my colleagues and me to discuss this further. It will be my pleasure to host you as our guest for a few days. Please do send me your reply at the earliest.