Mish' Fiction

Sarah

Ananya turned out to be charming child, though not very sharp. I had to work hard with her. But I didn’t mind. After all that was all I was supposed to do. I can think of many people who would have found the job exhausting and uncomfortable. But not me. I had never known more comfort in my life. I had nothing to worry about. I had a room all to myself, with a heater to keep it warm when the mountain weather was too cold. And I was growing accustomed to it. I had hot food at my table for each meal, and had only to ask for tea or snacks anytime. Could even a princess have more comforts in her life? Sometimes I was so comfortable that I felt anxious about it. Would it last? What if it was taken away?

What scared me most was… not Mr. Roychowdury’s behavior, but my own. My tongue seemed to loosen up in his presence. I often replied to him with a sharpness I had never known in me. What if someday he grew tired of my insolence and threw me out. I needed to be careful.

Scared or not, it was difficult not to find him odd. On the one hand he asked me questions like he was genuinely interested in learning about me. On the other hand, sometimes he ridiculed me in such ways that he couldn’t possibly take me seriously . Even his attitude towards his daughter left me confused. He cared so much about her that he had hired a whole set of staff to take care of the house he didn’t have much use for. Two people, the aayah and I, were hired solely for her. He also kept asking after her health, her meals, her educational progress and her overall well-being. Yet –her affectionate babblings and hugs, he seemed to reciprocate with hesitation and difficulty. I wondered if the child felt that disquiet or not. In any case, she continued to shower her affections on her Daddy.

None of the house staff seemed to care much about his oddity though. He paid handsomely and was a kind employer. That kept them satisfied. If they did gossip about him, they did not seem to do it before me. It turned out that I was considered more his equal by the staff than theirs. That was quite a boost to my ego. Even if it was only because I shared his dinner table with him; for some inexplicable reason!

—

“You have been teaching Annie how to draw?” he continued his conversation even after the dinner was over and the plates were cleared off.

“I’m not trained. But I thought I could get her started.” Would he object?

“She showed me some drawing and paintings that she said were yours. Were they, really?”

“I am not sure what she showed you.”

“If they were, it is much more than what I would ever have expected.”

“You don’t expect much,” I frowned despite the resolve to stay calm before him. It shouldn’t, but it hurt when he dismissed me like that.

“Ah! The ghost is offended.”

It was better to stay silent.

“On second thoughts though, you don’t look so ghost-like any more. Your face is full and bright and your eyes…”

“Excuse me?”

“Bring me your paintings.”

“My paintings?”

“Yes. If you please?” he added with mock courtesy.

His unexpected comments on my face and eyes unsettled me.  And if truth be told it had set my heart fluttering, though I wouldn’t have acknowledged it even at gunpoint. I withdrew silently in confusion and came back with the paintings. At the same time Ananya came running into the dining room, with her aayah following her.

“Daddy!”

“Annie. Why are you still up?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, Daddy. I don’t have to go to school.”

“But…”

“I am unable to sleep. Read me a story, please.”

“I have work to do…”

“I will do it,” I interjected, “You can see these, meanwhile.” I handed him the bundle and made to lead Ananya out. I wanted to get away from him.

“Wait. Sit on that sofa with her. Read to her there.”

Ananya like the idea. She would be in her father’s presence even if he would not indulge her by reading to her. I was stuck.

As I read to the child, I also watched him from the corner of my eyes. He looked through the paintings and kept three of them aside. He waited patiently until I had finished reading the first story.

“That’s enough Annie.”

“Daddy. Can I look at the paintings?” The child was in no mood for going to the bed.

“All right. Take these,” he offered her the bundle other than the three he had put aside. Then he addressed the aayah in broken Kannada. “Keep an eye on her and make sure she does not tear them.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Ms. Jacob. Come here.”

Ananya and the aayah settled on the sofa, while I went to the dining table and sat across him.

“What is it here? Is this your church?” he spread one of the paintings between us and asked.

“Yes…”

“But these are not the real surroundings, are they? This jungle?”

“No Sir.”

“Why is it there?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It is well-drawn. But I find it uncomfortable. It doesn’t have the warmth. It vast. You can get lost. I see loneliness here.”

I bit my lips and held my silence. I felt his gaze on me for a few moments, before he turned his attention to another painting.

“And this fort? Which one is this?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he looked surprised, “How did you draw it then?”

“I don’t know. Is this a real place? I just had this vision in my head. Probably something I had read or might have seen a photo or painting…”

“It looks uncannily like a painting of Chitradurga Fort I had seen. I will take you there sometime.”

He noticed me looking startled and added, “Annie would like it. You could accompany us. And who is this? Father Jacob?” He spread out the third painting.

I nodded.

“His looks are uncommonly kind.”

“He is uncommonly kind…”

“Hmm… I will keep these,” he started folding them away, then stopped for a moment, “Is that okay?” He finally remembered to ask me!

—

To be continued

“Have you been told what you are expected to do here?”

“I have some idea, yes…”

“Hmm…” He looked at me curiously. I didn’t understand his intent. “Are you good with kids?” he asked after a pause.

“We often took care of younger girls in the orphanage.”

“Here you have to focus on her education and development. Be a stimulating companion. The rest of it, Kaveri and Chanda will manage.”

“Yes Sir. Is there anything specific you want me to focus on?”

“Her teachers in Bangalore always complained about her handwriting. It is quite bad. Other than that… I don’t know. She is too young.”

I nodded.

“What the fu…” he stopped short, probably remembering the child’s presence there. “I don’t think one should worry so much about the education of a five-year old…”

My heart sank at that. He didn’t really want me there, then? “How would people like me can get a job, then?” Would making a joke out of it help?

I wasn’t prepared for the way he guffawed. Loud, unselfconscious, almost crude! Surely, I hadn’t been that funny.

“Besides I would be a lousy father,” he said, “If I ignored just how competitive the world out there is. And she isn’t getting exposed to that here.”

If it mattered so much to him, why did he need to shift to this plantation? Shouldn’t he have continued living in Bangalore? “I will do my best, Sir.” It wasn’t my place to ask all those questions.

“I am going to be away during the day. Will be back only late in the evening. Annie must be fed in time.” We had finished eating and were about to get up. I nodded. But she had an aayah. He had just reminded me of that. Why should I worry about feeding her? Then I realized that he wasn’t finished. “But you wait for me for dinner.”

I was taken aback by the request, and in the matter-of-fact manner it was put up. Was it an honor? Or was it an insult to presume that I must wait for him if ordered? Before I could decide, he added, in his by now familiar reluctant tone, “I mean, please. If you don’t mind.”

Pleasantries did not come naturally to him.

—

I was disappointed in Mr. Roychowdhury. I had expected him to be a tall, dark, handsome gentleman. He was short and stocky. Although fair-skinned, he was not handsome by any means. Now don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t hoping to seduce him or anything like that. I knew better than that. He had a daughter, for God’s sake. In fact, if I were looking to seduce him, I wouldn’t have wanted him to be tall, dark and handsome at all. I am as plain a woman as one can be. For myself, if I were ever to wish for a man, my wished would be modest. But for a rich employer, I had expected someone else.  So, yes, I was disappointed. Not only with his looks, but also his manners. That was a something rough and crude about him. Probably I was expecting more of the genteel manners of Father Jacob. Probably my expectations from the outside world were all screwed up.

But there was one positive aspect of this disappointment. I didn’t feel intimated by him the way I would have felt with a tall, dark, handsome gentleman. And that was going to be my undoing.  But I am getting ahead of myself.

—

At dinner he questioned me incessantly. But while the questions about my education and hobbies sounded mechanical, he grew really interested when I told him that I knew nothing about my family.

“Nothing at all? Who had brought you to the orphanage?”

“I don’t know.”

“You must have asked someone?”

“Nobody knew. I was… I was left at the church steps…”

“How old were you?” He was frowning!

“They guessed I was a newborn. Probably a day-old.”

“Don’t’ you wonder…”

“I have always shared my room with at least ten other girls at the orphanage. I wonder what having a room to myself would be like. But you don’t wonder about it, do you?”

“No,” he replied with a barely perceptible smile.

“We don’t question or wonder about what has always been the way of our lives.”

“Are you mad at me? For asking these personal questions?” he sounded uncharacteristically gentle and genuine.

“You are trusting me with your daughter. You have the right to know whatever you want to know about me.”

“I tend to be insensitive at times. I have no right to pry in your personal life…”

“I have no personal life that you cannot find out about by writing to Father Jacob. Or anyone at the orphanage.”

“Nobody has such transparent life.” The moment of gentility was past. He was his sour self again.

“There is nothing in my life that Father Jacob doesn’t know about.”

“Yeah? He has a list of all your boyfriends and…”

“I haven’t had any boyfriends or relationships. And I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“I won’t, unless I am sure I am getting married and stay in it for life.”

“Stay for life? You are one of those who believe in in ‘till death do us apart’?”

“I do.”

“Do you know about the divorce rates around the world?”

“That doesn’t make it a lesser sin. People live in sin all the time. It’s still a sin.”

“Unbelievable!” he groaned.

I had gone too far! “My religious beliefs are my own though. If you are worried about Ananya, you don’t need to be. My task is limited to her education – the secular education I mean.”

“Hmmm…” he didn’t seem to have heard me. All of a sudden he had withdrawn to a world of his own. He did not speak for the rest of the dinner. Even when I wished him good night, he only nodded absent-mindedly without as much a throwing a glance at me. To think that he had ordered me to wait for him at dinner.

—

Protim

She was scrawny the first time I had seen her. But the comfortable lifestyle, good food and mountain air was suiting her well. Her figure had filled up. And in just the right way. Her cheeks had grown full and rosy. The walks on the mountain roads had increased her stamina and strength.  Her face could not be called beautiful, but she looked refreshed and youthful. A pleasant, sweet aura was present around her

Her improving physique wasn’t the only thing that impressed me. I knew very well that Ananya was an average student. Still Sarah worked with her diligently. She didn’t seem to mind if a spelling needed to be repeated several times for her student. Or if a sum needed to be explained over and over. She had infinite patience. Probably the life in orphanage had done that to her. From waiting in line for food, to putting up with whimsical wardens and teachers, she had learned to take life as it came. I had found out quite a bit about her through our dinner conversations. Her patience showed there too. If she was annoyed by my inquisitiveness, she bore it well. I felt boorish imposing myself of her like that. But I had grown so tired of staying silent that I just couldn’t resist the urge to talk to someone who would understand. But would she understand? Would she care too?

Why would she? I was an obnoxious, employer whom she has to tolerate, just like she tolerated those patrons of orphanage with their noses in the air, or the old, wizened sisters with their ancient notions of how to raise orphan children.

And yet – I couldn’t seem to stop myself from asking her to share my table at dinner and from blabbering on while she sat donning a polite silence, or mumbling the requisite acknowledgements.

—

To be continued

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

I got down from the bus at a stop before the town of Madikeri. I was expecting someone to meet me there. The village, I had been told, was about six kilometers from that stop. It was better to stop there than going all the way to Madikeri, as that would have taken me four kilometers further from my destination. But I didn’t see anybody who was looking for me. It wasn’t a particularly busy stop. Other passengers who had disembarked with me dispersed soon and I found myself alone. There was only a small coffee shop at some distance from the bus stop shelter. At first I waited patiently, but grew anxious when half an hour passed.  The sunset hour was looming. It couldn’t be safe for me to be there for much longer.

Trying to appear unabashed and nonchalant, I walked to the coffee shop and got myself a cup of meter coffee. I asked the shopkeeper about my destination – Hojukeri. It was six kilometers from there, as I already knew. No bus would be available until next morning. Could I walk? Yes. I could take the way through fields so that I would have two kilometers less to walk. But if I was a stranger to the area, taking the mud road was a better option. It was the fourth village along the road. I sipped my coffee slowly, hoping that the shopkeeper would offer some more assistance, in some way. But he was an absent-minded man, who didn’t mind answering the questions that were put to him, but paid no further attention to me. A young woman asking about a village so difficult to reach at this hour, with nobody to accompany her, did not pique his interest as it would normally have done for anybody else in his position.

Realizing that no further help, or information, was forthcoming, I gulped down the rest of my coffee, tendered exact change for him, and set off to the village. I should have been afraid that that I might reach the wrong place, or never reach there, or given that nobody came to fetch me, I might no longer be wanted there. But I wasn’t thinking of such possibilities. I was solely concentrated on reaching where I had to. I put my arms through my bag’s strap and made a makeshift backpack out of the duffle bag. It wasn’t as comfortable as a regular backpack would be. But it would be less tiring in my six kilometers walk than having to carry it in my hands or one of the shoulders.

—

Apart from an occasional worker returning after the day’s labour, and a few stray animals, I didn’t have any company for first two kilometers of my on-foot journey. So, a jeep occupying a good portion of the narrow road was bound to draw my attention. I stopped in my tracks.

“What bloody roads…” A man appearing from the driver’s side of the jeep startled me.  He also noticed me, but didn’t show any signs of being embarrassed about his swearing. “Yes?” he asked her gruffly.

“Has your jeep broken down?” I asked.

“No. I like camping out. In the middle of a road hardly wide enough for my jeep.”

“Oh…. What?”

“Do you lack basic common sense, Miss? Of course, it is broken down. But you are walking, right? You can just go around it. You need not complain.”

“I… I was just asking if you need some help.”

“Are you a mechanic?”

“No.”

“I thought so. Leave now.”

I frowned and made to leave.

“Excuse me,” he stopped me.

“Yes?”

“Are you carrying a phone?”

“No.”

“Not carrying a phone? In this time and age? Heights of uselessness.”

“Excuse me?” his inexplicable rudeness got on even my orphanage-trained patient nerves, “Why aren’t you yourself carrying one, then?”

“Because…”

“I am sure you have a reason. And a lame one on top of that. So, please do allow for the possibility that others have their reasons too.”

“I see. What kind of reasons they may be?” Later I would know that he was amused at this point, but then I was too angry to notice.

“Like people can’t afford it…” I stopped short. Why was I talking like this to a stranger? My only concern was to offer help. And if he didn’t want any… But I could try once more. “Anyway. If you want to call someone, I could go to a phone booth…”

“The nearest one is three kilometers away.”

“I have to walk for at least four kilometers this way. So, if you can give me the number and message…”

“Where are you going?”

“Hojukeri?”

“Where in Hojukeri? Where are you coming from?”

“I am not comfortable telling a stranger all about myself.”

“If I wanted to abduct you, I would have done that already. But you have yourself declared that you have no money. So, what will I take the risk for? Anything else you can give, there are less dangerous ways of getting that.”

I flushed. And if only to hide my embarrassment, replied to his question, “I am coming from Bangalore. I have to go to Mr. Roychowdhury’s farmhouse.”

“Sarah Jacob?”

“How… how do you know?”

“It’s you I was supposed to pick up. But the jeep broke down…”

“Oh!”

“Would you mind babysitting this monster,” he pointed to the jeep, “While I go and make some arrangements to send you to your destination? And also to fix this?”

I hadn’t realized that I was subconsciously so anxious about my situation. Knowing that my future employer hadn’t just abandoned me gave me such relief that I did not refuse his rude driver’s offer even for formality’s sake. I no longer fancied walking, not even for another hundred meters. So, I nodded at him. He left once I was safely inside the jeep.

—

He came back in an old, rickety ambassador accompanied by a driver and a mechanic. He asked me to go home with the driver. Presumably he’d follow after getting the jeep fixed.

At home I was met by the housekeeper – Chanda. She was a kind-looking, elderly woman.  But she spoke mostly Bengali and some broken Hindi. I spoke Kannada and English, and extremely broken Hindi. Communication was going to be a funny, when not problematic!

But there was something inviting about her. She was, obviously, glad to have me there and showed me around enthusiastically. The tour ended when we reached the room on the first floor that was to be mine. With gestures and both our broken Hindi, we managed to understand each other. She was inviting me for tea after I had freshened up.

The idea of a room to myself, with an attached bathroom to top that, felt unreal. There was too much space… Just for me… What was I to do with this? How was I to stay alone? Over time I came to love the privacy I had for the first time in my life. But it was a bewildering idea just then.

To be continued

Sarah

“Thank you, Father,” my voice cracked.

“You are welcome anytime, my child,” Father Jacob smiled fondly.

“Father. You must know… That I am not running away from God or His work…”

“Sarah! You cannot take what Sister Nivedita says to heart. You know how she is. But she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“I know that, Father. But what you think and say matters…”

“You are a restless soul, Sarah…”

“Because I don’t have enough faith?”

“Don’t berate yourself, my child. All work is God’s work. You don’t have to be in church to be of service to Him. Nor do you have to be a wife to do your duty towards mankind. The avenues are endless. And if you want to choose one to your liking, there is nothing wrong in it.”

“You are reassuring, as always.”

“I am not faking it, if that’s what you imply. You are going to help a motherless child. I can’t think of a nobler thing to do. And I am sure you will not give Mr. Roychowdhury a reason to complain.”

“I will not, Father.”

“God bless you, my child. Have a good night’s sleep. You have to leave tomorrow morning.”

—

But sleep eluded me. I had always wanted it. To get out of the confines of the church-run orphanage. To live a ‘normal’ life. I wasn’t exactly unhappy at the orphanage. But the idea of a ‘normal’ life had tempted me. I had never known that normal life. Home of Hope – the orphanage – had been my home since I was a day-old baby. Rumor had it that I must be from a well-to-do family. Father Jacob, then a much younger Brother Jacob, had found me on the steps of the church on a cold Saturday morning. I must have been fed well before being abandoned. Because I was sleeping soundly in a well-padded basket, beneath an old, but expensive, warm baby blanket.

Not everyone at the Home of Hope was like me though. Some had been with their families before they were orphaned, their guardians succumbing to diseases, poverty, crime, drugs or other unspeakable circumstances. Most of them did not have pleasant stories to tell about their earlier lives. Orphanage authorities had a tough time trying to rid them of the influences of that period – habits of swearing, stealing, physical aggression and what not.

But it was none of their lives that represented normal life to me. Whatever vague idea I had of it was from Vineeta. I was five years old, when she had come to Home of Hope. She must be a year older to me, and her parents had died unexpectedly, in a car accident.

She had been so frail, so vulnerable. She cried all the time, asked for her parents and barely ate. When she did come to terms with the death of her parents after a about a week, it was with me that she talked the most. She told me about her parents, her house, how her mother cooked for everyone and fed her lovingly, how her father always brought gifts for her and loved her. She didn’t have chores to do, she did not have to make her own bed, and she could always eat whatever, or how much ever she wanted. The only time her parents admonished her about food was if she ate too little.

Few days later, Vineeta was gone. Her maternal Uncle came and took her away. She still had a family. She needn’t stay in an orphanage.

She had barely been a part of my life for two weeks. But she had given me an itch for a lifetime. The itch to have a normal life outside the orphanage.

Once the girls of the orphanage grew up, there were usually two respectful ways for them to settle their lives. They either got married, usually into lower-middle class Christian families, with the help of the patrons of church. Or they took up church duties, often choosing to become nuns. Them taking up jobs was a recent development and still very rare. Most old-timers, Sister Nivedita being one of them, frowned upon it. Surprisingly though, it was the oldest and the senior-most Father Jacob who supported the choice of these girls. I was a beneficiary of his generosity. He wouldn’t say it in so many words, but he worried about me more than the other girls. Because of what he called the ‘restlessness of my soul.’ He had himself looked out for a job for me. This job had been recommended by a long-time trusted friend of his. Mr. Protim Roychowdhury was a friend of this friend. He had recently bought a plantation at a small village near Coorg and had shifted there with his five-year-old daughter. He wanted a home-tutor for her. He did not trust the local school education much. He needed someone who could stay with them. Not many city educated women fancied staying in a village, howsoever scenic the hills and plantation might be. As for me, I had to start a normal life. If it was to start in a hilly village in Coorg, so be it. Father Jacob was satisfied with my position, as it would not throw me out in the big, bad world at once. I would be at someone’s house and could transition gradually.

But, would it all work out?

—

“We could have sent someone with you, Sarah,” Father Jacob offered once again.

“I will be fine, Father. I really will be,” I assured him yet again.

It was time to take leave from my friends, teachers and caretakers. I felt guilty. I wasn’t as emotional as I had seen the other girls become when the time to leave came. It had been my home for twenty years. But all I could feel was anxiety, trepidation and expectation of what was to come. The thought of leaving all these people behind did not bother me. The only exception was that little tug at my heart about Father Jacob. Let me not be modest and declare the truth. I had been his favorite. He had found me and had saved my life when I was abandoned at the church steps. He had been my friend, philosopher and guide. He had given me his name. I was Sarah Jacob. And this Sarah Jacob was now going out – to live a normal life.

Those who have not been in my position would not understand my excitement about moving from a city like Bangalore to a village in hills. Going from a happening place to a stagnant one. But I was excited. What mattered to me was that I was going out of the orphanage and would live my life on my own. A real life!

To be continued