Where the Secret Lies (14 page)

‘I think we should hire a taxi
and see some of Lucknow, what do you say?’ said Tianna.

‘We should ring home first,’
advised Arianna.

‘Yes, of course big sis. Can I
have your phone? I have run out of credits.’

 
The taxi driver was a
nice man and agreed to take the group of five on a sightseeing tour for a small
price.

Nikhil asked him to take them on
the scenic route. He wanted to show everyone other splendid homes.

‘Have you been to Lucknow
before?’ asked Arianna.

‘A few times,’ said Nikhil.

The taxi driver was well known
of this route and talked of the excellent architecture and design.

 
‘Amazing,’ Arianna said as she saw immaculate gardens
and colourful flowers and plants. Tianna clicked away on her camera.

‘Let’s stop here and walk.
Tianna, you will be able to get better pictures,’ suggested Nikhil.

The group trooped out and the
driver drove away. They came upon a man watering his plants outside his house.

‘Namaste,’ Khushboo said.

 
‘Namaste beta,’ the elderly man said. ‘May I
help you?’

‘I hope you don’t mind but we
were admiring your home. It is beautiful,’ said Arianna.

‘Thank you very much. This small
haveli was built in the 17th Century and it is still here,’ the man said proudly.
‘Would you all like to come inside? I can show you around and tell you more.’

‘We don’t mean to pry...’
Arianna said, taken aback by his generosity.

‘You are not, come in, please. I
like having guests.’

They walked into the grounds
like tourists and oo’ed and aah’ed in all the right places. The man introduced
himself as Alok and proceeded to show them his home decor and furniture
collection of which he was very fond of, Arianna observed.

Alok’s wife came to greet them.
She wore a friendly smile and dressed simply. Servants pottered around, working
quietly.

‘Please, take a seat,’ Alok’s
wife said. ‘You are all very welcome.’

 
‘I have a son and two
daughters. My daughters live in England and my son in Germany,’ Alok said when
Arianna mentioned she and Tianna were from London.

‘Have you been to England?’
asked Tianna. ‘When you come again, you must come and visit us!’

‘Europe can get very cold,’
commented Alok, smiling. ‘Thank you, I would be delighted.’

A servant brought glasses of juice
and snacks.

‘Please, help yourself,’ Alok’s
wife gestured. ‘I am sorry but you will have to excuse me. I have some things
that I need to attend to.’

‘Please,’ Alok said when no one
took any food or drink. ‘Don’t be shy.’

‘I am hungry,’ Jignesh took a
sandwich.

The banter began and everyone relaxed, enjoying the food and
company. No one noticed the darkness outside until the lights came on.

‘Now you must tell me, what
brings you to Lucknow?’

‘We have come to a wedding,’
said Khushboo. She told him whose it was and Alok nodded. He knew the family
quite well through business.

‘They are delightful people,’ he
said. ‘Do you know, the haveli has a very interesting history?’

Everyone leaned closer.

‘Please do tell us,’ said
Tianna.

‘Well, the haveli was once owned
by a Muslim family,’ Alok began the tale.

The haveli was once very beautiful, more than it is today. The
owner loved entertainment – music, laughter, and good food was part of his life
and part of his haveli. The family’s ancestors were Moguls so wealth ran
through generations.

In Lucknow, the Muslim, Sikh and
Hindu communities got along as brothers. Every Eid, the family – the Khans held
a party which the whole of Lucknow was invited to. In respect, the Hindu and
Sikh communities invited them to their Diwali and Vaisakhi celebrations.

When Mahatma Gandhi came to
India, everything and everyone changed. It happened gradually. At first, all
religions united.
 
They joined hands and
fought valiantly against the British Raj for a few years, then Partition of
India was announced and the faiths became enemies.

No one knew what happened to the
Khans after they fled.
 
Some believe they
were murdered but we will never know. The haveli stayed empty for a long time.

 
Eventually a young couple moved in – Mohan and
Anjali. They had a few good years together but then something happened.’

‘How do you know all this?’
asked Tianna.

‘Stories are told from
generation to generation, beta. My father told me about the haveli when I was
about your age. I became interested in history and began to read. I searched
the history of that particular haveli and read about an incident in the paper.’

‘What incident?’ asked Arianna.

Khushboo’s mobile rang stopping
Alok from answering.

‘It’s Ma,’ said Khushboo. ‘She
is wondering where we all are. We will have to go home.’

‘Well, I must not let you stay
any longer. It has been a pleasure meeting and talking to you,’ Alok said.

‘Alok, thank you for such a
wonderful evening,’ said Arianna.

‘You are welcome my dear.’

‘If you don’t mind, I would very
much like to hear more about the haveli and this incident. May I visit again?’
she asked when everyone was busy getting to the front door.

Alok gave her his business card.
‘It would be an honour. Give me a call anytime.’

The group bade goodbye and left
in Alok’s car. He insisted they let his driver take them home.

The news they received was good. Arianna cheered quietly –
the groom cancelled the wedding!

Arianna, Tianna, and Khushboo
sat together as they heard the details from Rani.

‘I spoke to Akash in private. I
told him I did not want to marry him and I was in love with someone else. He
was disappointed of course but he listened and

understood. Akash is a nice man – I was wrong about him but
I do not love him. He promised he would cancel the wedding. He wanted a happy
marriage and a happy bride. He told his Ma and Papa when I left.’

‘What did
they say?’ Tianna gasped.

‘Ma blamed
me of course even though Akash told them he wasn’t ready. Well anyway, my
mother shouted at me for ruining her life.’

‘Are you happy?’
asked Khushboo.

‘Yes I am. I
want to see the world, see “life” before I marry anyone. I want to become
someone and not a trophy wife. All this is possible, because of all of you,’
said Rani.

 
‘Does that mean we have to go back to London
early?’ the disappointment was great on Tianna’s face.

‘I don’t know Ti, I just don’t
know,’ said Arianna.

That night, Arianna lay in her
bed thinking about Alok and his story. She could not go back home, not until
she knew the mystery of the haveli and the reason of the bizarre events that
seemed to involve her.

ANJALI

EIGHTEEN

1954

‘Be still, Kajol,’ Anjali scolded her youngest daughter.

Kajol screwed up her little
face.

 
‘Don’t make a face like that. Now hurry, your
school bus will be here soon.’

Anjali finished plaiting her daughter’s
hair. She sighed; no matter how careful she tried to be, Kajol’s tight curls
refused to behave. Anjali resorted to oiling the hair before binding it tight
every morning. Kajol hated oil in her hair and moaned.

‘You have such wild hair, I have
no choice. It’s a shame your hair is not straight like your sister’s.’

 
She kissed Kajol’s cheek and handed her, her
tiffin and school satchel.

‘Go and wait with your sister,’
she said.

Kajol joined her elder sister,
Deepika who was five years old. Kajol was four. The bus arrived and Anjali saw
them off. She went back into the house to finish tidying the girls’ room. Even
with ten servants, Anjali insisted on tidying the girl’s room herself. The
girls shared a close bond and Anjali never wanted it broken. Their room was
special and so Anjali refused the servants to clean.

She now laughed aloud as she
stood in the middle of their disorganised room. Bed covers lay on the floor,
soft toys scattered the room and colouring pencils and papers dotted the bed. Tucking
the end of her sari into her waist, Anjali began to tidy up.

Mohan doted on his daughters. After work, he would take them
into his arms and the three would talk, laugh, play, and sometimes argue too.
Anjali would stand a short distance and observe, a smile playing on her lips.

Mohan found work in a small
cycle shop five years ago. He worked as an apprentice, working himself up the
ladder to ownership status of several shops around the district. Anjali took
care of the haveli, the children, and supervised the servants.

Looking at the clock now, she
realised she was late for the weekly card game at Mrs Shah’s residence. She
changed into a blue silk sari and combed her hair into a high beehive. She made
her face up with heavy eyeliner, blue eye shadow, and sheer pink lipstick.

Satisfied, Anjali grabbed her
handbag from the dressing table and directed the driver to take her to Mrs
Shah’s residence.

Mrs Shah threw a card on the table. ‘So how is your husband,
Anjali?’

‘Oh you know; he is a busy man.
Sometimes we hardly see each other,’ replied Anjali.

The other women raised their
eyebrows.

‘It’s nothing like that. He is
not having an affair...unlike Rajshri,’ Anjali smirked.

Rajshri huffed. ‘You would do
too if your husband was boring, Anjali. My husband is only interested in
reading the financial paper or listening to the news. If I say to him “ji, let
us go to the cinema”, he would say “no”. If I say “eh ji, let’s go on a
vacation”, he would say – ’

‘No!’ everyone chorused and
laughter ensued.

‘Oh I wish I had your Mohan,’
Rajshri said mournfully. She took up a new set of cards.

Anjali picked up her juice.
‘Mohan is mine only. Be careful, Rajshri.’

‘Is not your anniversary in a
few days?’ Mrs Shah asked Anjali.

‘Yes,’ said Anjali. ‘I am
surprised you remembered.’

‘Rajshri, I don’t think you
heard how Anjali and Mohan met and married, it was right after partition.’

‘Five years have passed so
quick...’ said Anjali.

 
‘Please tell us again and for Rajshri’s sake.
It is so beautiful and romantic,’ Mrs Shah emphasised the word “beautiful”.

The women stopped their game and
Anjali relayed her and Mohan’s meeting and marriage, thinking of the upcoming
anniversary at the same time.

Anjali hummed whilst she embroidered her sari. She could not
wait to wear it on the day of her and Mohan’s anniversary. The clock ticked as
she worked away unaware of the time passing by.

‘Memsahib, Bari aur Chotti
memsahib are home,’ Ramu ji, the servant announced the arrival of the girls.

Anjali smiled broadly and put
her work down. The squeals and laughter travelled up to her and in flew her
daughters, flinging the door wide open. They landed in their mother’s
outstretched arms.

‘How was your day?’ she asked
taking their hands and leading them to the kitchen.

The girls’ chatted all the while
as Anjali served them late afternoon dinner.

‘And Ma, a cow walked into our
school,’ Deepika giggled. ‘She wore a bell around her neck which jingled every
time she moved her head.’

‘All our friends were laughing,’
piped in Kajol.

‘Why was the gate not closed?’
Anjali asked, concerned. This was not safe.

 
The girls shrugged.

‘What happened next?’ Anjali
asked.

‘We wanted to feed the cow some
of our lunch but the headmaster told us off.
 
The chowkidaar (gate keeper) and a few teachers tried to push the cow
towards the gates but Ma, the cow wouldn’t move,’ Deepika said. ‘One of the
teachers fell on her face when she tried to push harder. She fell on the cows
–’

‘Enough,’ smiled Anjali. ‘I
think I know what happened, the poor teacher.’

‘The cow’s owner came and took
her home. I miss her,’ said Kajol frowned.

‘A school is no place for a
cow,’ said Anjali hugging her daughters. ‘Now, who wants more rice and potatoes?’

‘I do!’ the girls chorused.

The girls went to play and Anjali took her diary out,
filling in today’s events. She included the tale of the cow and laughed softly,
remembering her daughters’ detailed account. She finished writing, closed the diary,
and sat thinking of her daughters for a while. The clock chimed five and she
sighed. Well, I must carry on, I can

cannot just sit and do nothing, she scolded herself.

She hid the diary under a pile
of sarees in her wardrobe and made her way downstairs, in time for the postman.
Anjali took a boxed parcel and some letters he had for her and she signed the
delivery document.

Sitting in her favourite seat, Anjali
skimmed through the envelopes, which were mostly bills. She cast them aside for
Mohan to see later – he took charge of such things. Before she could open the
last envelope, her gaze fell on the package. The wrapping was quite secure but Anjali
managed to open it eventually.

She gasped; her mother had sent
a stunning statue of Lord Ganesh. The card read Meera and little Anjali’s name.
Little Anjali...not so little anymore and was now six. She was identical to
Sunil but had her sister’s silky hair and light eyes.

Anjali’s heart tugged as images
of her family came to mind. Time certainly had passed quickly since the deaths of
Neha and Sunil but the pain still resided in her heart; something that would
never leave.