Swimming in the Monsoon Sea (23 page)

The next morning Amrith had a rehearsal and, this time, he was even more disinclined to go. Niresh had said nothing about what he planned to do with his morning, but Amrith guessed he would go to the parish hall with Mala.

The rehearsal was for the whole cast, and all the actors were present. As Amrith waited in the wings, he was so distracted by the thought of what Niresh was doing that he did not hear Madam calling his name. Finally, one of the
boys nudged him and he hurriedly went onstage and took his place on the bed.

Yet, even as he lay there, he could not stop thinking of Mala and Niresh together at the parish hall; he could not help remembering the way Mala had laughed at the dressmaker’s and how it had sounded like a gate shutting in his face. Last evening, Mala and Niresh had played Carom again, and though Amrith had wanted to play Scrabble instead, his knowledge of their attraction to each other had silenced him.

“De Alwis!”

He came out of his reverie to find Madam standing at the front of the auditorium, by the stage.

“De Alwis, pay attention, for goodness’ sake. Wanigasekera finished his monologue. Didn’t you hear Fernando calling your cue?”

“Um
 … sorry, Madam.”

Suraj said softly, “Daydreaming about your cousin?”

Amrith looked at him surprised, and Suraj laughed.

“Come on, boys,” Madam called, “let’s do it again.”

Suraj took his place and went through his monologue once more. Amrith made sure to pay attention this time and, when it came to his cue, he began the dialogue between them.

He was barely a few lines into the scene, however, when Madam stopped him.

“For goodness’ sake, De Alwis! Could you be any more unemotional? Your husband has just woken you to
say he is going to murder you in your bed. From your nonchalance, one would think that he was offering you some trifling news.”

“Sorry, Madam.”

“Come-come, put some passion behind it — make it seem like you’re really frightened.”

Amrith’s heart was not in this rehearsal, yet he knew what was at stake here. When they did the scene again, he forced himself to give the performance required of him, but it felt like physical exertion when one is sick.

Madam soon stopped him. “My, De Alwis! From one extreme to the other,
nah
. Now you are completely over-the-top. Almost a caricature.”

She beckoned to him and he got off the bed and went to the edge of the stage. “De Alwis,” she said, frowning, “if you are not able to give this role your attention, I am sure there are others who would be delighted to do so.”

Peries, who was in the front row, sat up in his seat, looking expectantly at Madam. She ignored him. Once she had finished talking to Amrith and was going back down the aisle, Peries put up his hand.

“What is it, Peries?” Madam glanced at him, annoyed.

“I was wondering, Madam, if you want me to take De Alwis’ place.”

Amrith was outraged. Madam was not happy, either. “I am the director, Peries,” she said, in a chilly voice, “I will decide when, if at all, that will happen.”

Once rehearsals were over, Madam made Amrith stay behind. She waited until the other boys had left and then
she turned to him with a gentle smile. “De Alwis, I really sense your heart isn’t in this role, so I want to offer you the chance to bow out. I won’t be angry at you. Sometimes a role is just not right for an actor, you know.”

“No, Madam.” Amrith looked at her pleadingly. “I … I promise I’ll work hard at it.”

“Is your Canadian cousin distracting you?”

Amrith looked away. “A little.”

“Well, this is a warning. I have been very patient but, as you know, I must put the interest of the school ahead of everything else. This is a final warning, De Alwis.”

He hung his head and nodded.

When Amrith came down to the gate, the car was there, but Niresh was not in it.

As the car turned down their road, Amrith saw Niresh and Mala. They were walking ahead, talking animatedly. His cousin was carrying Mala’s bag. Niresh laughed at something she said and she punched him in the arm.

The car reached the gate at the same time they did. “Hey, buddy,” Niresh cried out, as he went to drag back the gate so the car could enter. Mala hurried ahead and went into the house.

Amrith greeted Niresh as civilly as he could, before excusing himself and going to his room.

That afternoon, they were all supposed to go to the club, but Amrith insisted that he wanted to go down to Kinross Beach for a swim with his cousin. Niresh agreed reluctantly.

When they came out of the bedroom, on their way to Kinross, Mala was pacing aimlessly under the jak tree.

“Hey,” Niresh said, crossing to her in delight. “Do you want to come with us?”

Mala tried to appear surprised at Niresh’s invitation, but Amrith could tell that she had been hoping they would ask her.

Once she had gone to change, Niresh turned to Amrith. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not, why should I?” Amrith replied.

They had been in the water a short while when Mala walked back to the beach, spread her towel out, and sat down. Amrith was glad to see her go. Now he had his cousin all to himself.

After a moment, however, Niresh, without a word or glance at him, waded out to join her.

Amrith could have followed him and sat with them on the beach, but he stayed in the water, going under, trying to get a glimpse of the bottom. He searched for pretty shells. Occasionally he saw one but, before he could reach out to grab it, the sand shifted and it disappeared.

When he felt he had been in the water long enough to make a point he could not name, he walked casually up the beach to join them.

As he came towards them, Niresh was saying, “Yeah, it was hard. It was hard growing up without my mum. I really missed her all the time, at first.” He turned over a strand of
dried sea-weed, a sad expression on his face that did not look completely genuine. His cousin was appealing to Mala’s ready sympathy, and she looked at him, her eyes luminous with pity.

Niresh had noticed Amrith approaching and a fleeting look of annoyance crossed his face. It pierced Amrith’s heart.

T
he next day, the Catholic Students’ Union met at an old folks’ home to do a shramadana. Selvi and her friends were going along as well, and it turned out that other boys and girls, who were not in the Union, had volunteered their time for a chance to be around one another. When Niresh heard about the shramadana, he wanted to go. Amrith was not keen, but he agreed to accompany him. Since he had discovered Niresh and Mala’s attraction to each other, he found it very difficult to assert his will and insist on time alone with his cousin.

The old folks’ home, donated by a wealthy philanthropist, was in a large bungalow with a back and front veranda and an extensive garden. The majority of the residents were
Dutch Burghers. They were the last remnants of a racial group that was dying out rapidly in this country, their families having left for Australia, Canada, and England in the 1950s and 60s. Various Burgher associations in the West contributed generously to the upkeep of the home.

Neither the residents, who were for the most part senile, nor the staff seemed particularly happy at this deluge of giggling, chattering teenagers who descended on them to do good — teenagers who had never done a day’s housework in their lives. Two nuns and a priest had come along to maintain decorum. Whatever hope the sexes had of mingling together was given short shrift when the nuns took the girls inside to clean the house. The boys were left outside to attend to the grounds, under the supervision of the priest and a very cranky gardener.

Not long after they had been at work, Mala came onto the veranda. “I need two boys to come and move an almirah,” she said.

“I’ll help,” Suraj replied.

But Niresh cried, “Me and Amrith.”

He grabbed Amrith’s arm and hurried him towards the veranda. Suraj had arrived first, but there were two of them. Mala pretended to look harassed as she glanced from Suraj to Amrith and Niresh. Then, she said ungraciously, “I guess you both can come. I do need two boys.”

Niresh grinned at Suraj, who glowered back.

They followed Mala.

“Poor lover-boy,” Niresh whispered to Amrith, who smiled sourly.

Suraj was thumping his clenched fist against the palm of his hand.

When the boys had finished in the garden, they lined up at an outdoor pipe to clean off. The ground around the pipe was muddy and so there were two bricks embedded in the soil that they could stand on, as they bent over to use the tap. When Niresh was at the pipe, his feet on the bricks, Suraj came up from behind and gave him a shove. Niresh stepped into the mud and splattered himself. He turned on Suraj, his fists raised. Suraj had already taken up his stance. They began to circle each other. Amrith felt a sickening lurch in his stomach.

The other boys had formed a ring around the combatants, their faces hot with excitement. They called encouragement to Suraj, referring to Niresh as kalusuddah, black-foreigner.

Suraj took a punch at Niresh. He ducked. When he tried to punch back, Suraj stepped aside and Niresh nearly lost his balance. The boys cheered.

They circled again.

“Niresh, come away,” Amrith cried, his voice thick in his throat.

Niresh did not even glance in his direction.

They moved around for a while, gauging each other. Then Niresh tried to take another punch at Suraj and
missed. Suraj made a jab at Niresh’s stomach. His cousin blocked him. In that instant, his face was unguarded. Suraj swiftly changed direction and hit out, catching Niresh squarely on the nose. From the power of his blow, Niresh was flung backwards. He crashed into a bucket and collapsed into the mud.

Amrith cried out.

Suraj pounced on top of Niresh. He straddled his chest, grabbed him by the hair, and hit his head against the ground over and over again. Niresh gasped each time his head struck the dirt. Amrith pushed through the circle and stood, wringing his hands.

Suddenly the priest and the gardener were among them. They grabbed the boys and pulled them apart. The girls, attracted by the noise, had come out of the house. When they saw the state of the boys, some of them shrieked. Amrith helped Niresh to his feet. His nose was bleeding. Mala broke past the others and, with her handkerchief, tried to staunch the blood.

The priest grabbed Suraj by the ear and twisted it until he was bent over. “You are a bloody disgrace, you monkey. Just wait, I’m going to tell your mother.” He dragged a sullen Suraj away, who turned to give Mala a look of appeal. She glared at him.

For a moment, Niresh’s face shone with triumph, but then, when Mala turned back to him, he quickly changed his expression to pain and pressed her handkerchief to his nose. Leaning slightly on Mala, he allowed
himself to be led away. He had actually developed a limp.

The shramadana came to an inglorious end.

When they got home that morning, the women fussed over Niresh, making sure he was comfortably seated in a Planter’s chair, plying him with cushions and ice compacts dipped in eau de cologne.

Before lunch, Mrs. Wanigasekera, whom they knew as Aunty Daphne, brought a much-chastened Suraj over to apologize. Aunty Bundle and Uncle Lucky graciously made light of the whole thing, said that boys would be boys, that no permanent damage had been done, that it was just a flash of tempers.

Suraj was made to apologize to Niresh, to shake his hand. His cousin accepted his apology with all the good grace of the victor. For, the moment Mala had seen Suraj enter the courtyard, she had stalked off into the house and did not come back until he was gone.

Throughout all this, Amrith stood by silently. He felt like a supernumerary, watching a drama unfold in which he had no speaking part.

Amrith decided he had put up with enough. The time had come to assert his will again.

That evening, Aunty Bundle took Niresh to see their family doctor. His cousin had cut his knee on a rusty
garden implement during the fight and he needed a tetanus shot. The moment they left, Amrith went looking for Mala. He found her in the girls’ room, writing in her diary. He came in without knocking and she hurriedly slipped her diary under a pillow.