When I came down for tea, there was another young woman in the hall. She spoke Kannada and introduced herself to me. Her name was Kaveri. She was a local woman and worked as Ananya’s aayah. Chanda had too much to look after, as she did all the cooking and cleaning. So, Mr. Roychowdhury had hired Kaveri to look after his daughter.

“Annie baby is sleeping,” she informed me, “And I hope Sir comes before she wakes up. She has been quite cranky today. She would demand to see her Daddy.”

“She is very attached to Mr. Roychowdhury, then.”

“What is a motherless child to do?”

I thought of inquiring about her employer’s routine and when he was expected home that evening. But I checked my curiosity.  It would appear too forward and intrusive for a newcomer. I, instead, focused the conversation on my ward and her mother.

“Her mother is dead?”

“Don’t know.”

“Don’t know?”

“Some people say she’s dead. Some say she ran away. Some say they are divorced. Chanda Auntie doesn’t say anything. So, I don’t know. And I am not really the kind to put my nose in other people’s affairs. All I care about is that Sir is a really good employer. A gentleman.”

‘Unlike his driver,’ I thought as I recalled the man who was supposed to pick me up today. I had been civil with him to the end. But that was only because of the strange circumstances. In any other situation…

I was tired, and at Chanda’s advice went to bed early. Neither Mr. Roychowdhury had returned by then, nor Ananya had woken up. So, I could meet neither of them on my first evening.

—

I slept soundly despite unfamiliar surroundings and the room whose size threatened to gobble me up. I woke up at five by habit. The hilly air was chillier than what I was used to in Bangalore, but not uncomfortable enough to keep me in bed. I got up and washed, then felt puzzled. What was I to do now? No assigned duties?

I looked out of the window. The house was in the middle of a coffee plantation and the vast expanse tempted me to take a walk. I didn’t notice the short figure doubled over amidst the plants and was so startled when he suddenly stood up that I let out a small cry.

“Ah! The ghost again!” my acquaintance from the previous evening exclaimed.

The recognition and the oddity of his remark struck me at the same time. “Excuse me?”

“Good morning, Ms. Jacob.”

“What ghost?”

“I don’t suppose you have cat paws. So, your ability to appear from nowhere without making a sound can only be explained by you being a ghost.”

“I see. You have a penchant for plausible explanations, instead of the exotic.”

“I had wished you ‘good morning’. To think that Annie is supposed to learn from you.”

“Let my employer be the judge of my suitability.”

“Ahan!” an all-knowing smile formed on his lips. “Sure,” he added, “From what I know, he would like to meet you at breakfast.”

“Thank you. Have a good morning.”

—

I struggled between the four dresses I had. Two black ones, one of which I wore at night and was still wearing while on my walk that was cut short.  The other black one I had worn the previous day. One was a cream dress, with a bit of lace. Too festive, I thought with my orphanage standard and settled on the brown one. I redid my hair and applied a little face cream. There was a full-length mirror in the room. I looked at myself critically. Was I ready for Mr. Roychowdhury? Well. This was the best I could do. And anyway. My job was to teach his daughter, not to groom her for some beauty contest. My fashion quotient didn’t matter. I repeated this like a mantra to myself. Deep down, I wanted to impress him, but I knew my limitations. I wasn’t capable of being the fasion-queen. Better be the intellectual, then.

Chanda was setting up the table when I entered the dining room. Kaveri also stepped soon after her. There was no sign of the father or the daughter.

I tried to silently rehearse my introduction, but I only grew nervous.  And the sight of the man who was followed by a child in his tow did nothing to calm my nerves.

His eyes brightened up almost menacingly at my sight. “There Annie. That’s your new friend,” he addressed the child, “Ghost Teacher.”

“Ghost?”

“See. You scare her,” he looked back at me with a crooked smile, as he helped the child into a chair.

“You are the one scaring her with this nonsense,” I replied with a sharpness I hadn’t imagined using with my employer. But he hadn’t given me time to collect myself and give a studied reaction. “Hello Ananya. I am Sarah.”

“Are you a ghost?”

“Do I look like one?”

“I don’t know. I have never seen a ghost.”

“And one never sees a ghost. If you can see me, I am not a ghost.”

“Daddy?” the child won’t be satisfied unless she heard it from her father.

“I was joking, Annie,” he replied not angrily, but impatiently.

“And she can speak English?”

“Yes. She can,” he replied to her daughter, then explained to me, “Most people here, including our staff, speak Kannada. She doesn’t know Kannada. Never needed to learn it in Bangalore. I myself know only a little. I hope you know…”

“Yes. Of course, I know Kannada.” And that’s when it struck me. Why had I expected the driver of the house of speak impeccable English? That should have been the giveaway that he was… my employer. I could feel the blush creeping on my cheek. Just then my eyes met his and it seemed that he had read my thoughts and was thoroughly amusing himself at my expense. I wouldn’t give him that pleasure. I willed myself to appear normal.

He had already taken his seat by now. “Sit down,” he ordered me unceremoniously. Then frowned and added a reluctant-sounding, “Please.”

“Thank you.”

I knew even as I was eating that I was being gluttonous. But I just could not help ravishing the hot breakfast of idli, bread and egg with fruits. It wasn’t very often that we got to eat such delicious food to our heart’s and stomach’s content at Home of Hope. Everything was rationed there. Chanda might not be a Kannadiga or South Indian, but her idli’s were soft, and sambhar delectable. And she had made enough to feed the entire orphanage. For at least ten minutes I had as good as forgotten other people on the table – my employer and my ward. And Kaveri who was helping Ananya eat. And Chanda who was bringing more eggs, toasted bread and sambhar to the table.

Mr. Roychowdhury must have noticed how greedily I was eating. He waited until I had finished eating and had picked up coffee to speak to me about the job.

—

To be continued