Mish' Fiction

Things between me and Debjani did not improve. It must have been written in stars that we should be at loggerheads. Two days after her arrival, Mr. Roychowdhuri had to go away to settle some plantation-related work. He had taken one of the plantation vehicles with him and his jeep was left behind. He was to be away only for a few hours, but a neighbor’s child did not wait for him to come back before he fractured his arm while playing in the fields. The boy’s parents rushed to our house to seek help. He needed to be taken to the hospital and no vehicle was available.

“Protim is not here. We can’t do anything,” Debjani declared.

“But his jeep is here. Do you know how to drive it, Uncle?” I asked the neighbor.

His brother did.

“You can’t just give his jeep away,” Debjani was incredulous and furious.

I had the same scruples, but the child was howling in pain and her utter disregard for the his condition drove me to stubbornness. “Let him decide what I can or cannot do in his house,” I told her and gave the keys to the child’s father.

But as soon as they had driven the child away, the dread set in. I had overstepped my boundaries. It wasn’t for me to decide. I didn’t run the house. How good a driver the boy’s uncle was? What if something happened to the jeep? What would Debjani tell him? What would he think of me? What would he do to me? Would he be mad enough to throw me out?

As the time for his return neared, I grew more frantic with worry. Finally I decided confess my mistakes to him before anyone else opened their mouths.

He frowned when he saw me waiting where the mud-road leading to the house met the main road. He got down from the vehicle and sent others away.

“Is something wrong?”

I gulped hard. “Poorna, your neighbor’s child, was hurt. They needed to take him to the hospital. I gave them the keys to your jeep. I am sorry.”

“If the child fine?”

“It was a broken arm. But I don’t know. They aren’t back yet.”

“You were waiting here to tell me about the child’s broken arm?”

“About your jeep. I just… couldn’t refuse. His uncle is driving it.”

He laughed. His crude, loud, unselfconscious laugh. And this time I could not help smiling.

“Come. Walk back with me.”

On reaching home, he made quite a show of calling the father, asking after the child’s health and offering them any help they may need. The effort was hilarious because of his broken Kannada. But it settled the matter. Debjani never opened her mouth.

Protim

It was insane what I was doing. Juvenile, immature. But I was desperate. I took leave from the university and spent the entire week at home. I flirted shamelessly with Debjani, much to my aunt’s delight. But she wasn’t the one I was concerned with. I made sure that Sarah was around us whenever I complimented Debjani, or said something to make her laugh. Annie was a willing, though unaware accomplice. All I had to do was to ask her to be around me, and she made sure to bring her favorite Sarah Auntie along. If Sarah tried to escape, I made sure Annie won’t let her. Despite her best efforts at avoiding eating with us I made her have all her meals with us at the table. My aunt scowled whenever she saw Sarah at the table, but she knew better than to say anything.

Despite my keeping a hawk-eye on her, she slipped away that day. Something caught in my throat when I realized that. Could I have overdone it? Had my guests insulted her? Had I? I excused myself and discreetly went upstairs to her room. It was unlocked as usual, but she was not inside. I dashed out of the back door into the plantation and called her name out loud. I won’t be heard inside the house, but if she was there, strolling in the overgrown grass, she couldn’t have helped hearing me. I moved about frantically until I heard a soft sob. As I looked in the direction of the voice, I knew where she was. I made my way towards her. She must have heard me approach, because she suddenly stood upright. It was the same spot where I had met her on her first morning in this house. She had wiped her tears, but her swollen, red eyes betrayed her crying.

“Sarah. What happened?”

“Nothing. I was feeling suffocated, so I decided to take a stroll.”

“And you didn’t think it necessary to tell me that you were going out?”

“Do I need you permission to step out of the house now?”

“I was worried, Sarah.”

“Don’t be. I am an adult. I can look after myself.”

“Yeah? Why did you run away then?” What was I doing? I had to woo her, not drive her away with my boorishness.

“Mr. Roychowdhury!” she hissed and gave me dagger eyes.

The approach of plantation workers at that moment interrupted our little tete-a-tete, though. The interruption also brought her back to her usual self and she strode towards the house to avoid further confrontation.

“We are not done yet,” I was talking to her back, “I am not going to create a scene in front of my workers or staff. But we are not done yet.”

She heard, she did not stop, she did not even look back!

—

Sarah

What did he think he was doing? He was going to marry Debjani. Chanda had told me as much. Mrs. Roychowdhury was her trusted source. Why did he have to torture me so by not letting me stay away? Was he trying to prove something to me? Had he found out how I felt about him? Did he want to exorcise me out of my impossible dreams? Well, he didn’t need to. I wasn’t dreaming. I just wanted to stay away!

As if my employer had not created enough upheaval in my life, I was informed by Kaveri that I had a call from Home of Hope. Father Jacob was unwell, probably breathing his last, and he had been asking for me. Whatever else happened in my life, nothing was more important than Father Jacob. My life, my sense of identity, my very existence was linked with him. I had to go to Mr. Roychowdhury and ask for his leave to go to Bangalore.

—

To be continued

“Daddy. We should go for picnic today.”

“Picnic? Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“I don’t know where anywhere is. Who gave you the idea anyway?”

“Sarah Auntie.”

“Sarah Auntie?”

“Actually Sir,” I had to explain. He would think that I was trying get to him through the child, “She saw a picnic on some TV show. She was after me to go for it. I wasn’t sure… So, I told her to wait until you came and ask you instead…”

“Hmm… So, you don’t want to go?”

“I do… I mean no… I… Basically I don’t mind.”

“All right. Then you have my permission. Take her and go for picnic,” he went back to his newspaper.

“But that would be boring.”

“Eh?”

“Annie is with me all the time anyway. Going with me would be boring for her. She would like to spend time with you.”

“Yes Daddy. You must come.”

He sighed audibly and put the newspaper down. “Fine then. Let’s go. The three of us. I have a spot in mind. Have Chanda pack us lunch and snacks. Also get whatever Annie will need from Kaveri.”

“Yes Sir.”

—

Protim

I had done a good job of pretending that I agreed to the picnic only for Annie’s sake.  But for how long could I keep my feelings under wraps? That woman was driving me mad. At first I assumed it was my loneliness. Anybody decent coming into that lonely life was likely to make me feel that I was falling in love. I had taken up the job in Mysore not only for the sake of professional fulfillment, but also to keep away from her.  I had to be amongst other people, my intellectual equals, to get a perspective on who I was and where she stood in my life. But the distance had done nothing to quell my fascination with her. I craved for her company more than ever. What was I to do? Did she have any inkling of what she was doing to me? I stole a glance at her while driving. There she was! The very picture of poise and propriety. Utterly unaware of the havoc she was wreaking. How I would have liked to pull up the jeep, chew up those lips of hers and crush her in my embrace until she had no option but to give in. But… But it wouldn’t do. If my Gods had given me more tact, a sweeter disposition, a handsomer face, I might have been able to seduce this daughter of Jesus. I had none of those, and yet I had to seduce her. How?

—

Sarah

The riverside appeared to be a favorite spot of his. “I like this place” was all he had said. But he wasn’t one for giving any kind of extreme expression to his emotions. By then I knew him enough to know what “I like this place” meant. It was here that he came to contemplate, or to run away from, whatever complications his life had. It was here that he prayed for peace. How I yearned to take his head in my lap, to ask him to close his eyes and run my fingers over them. How I wished to assure him that he was a good man and whatever it was that bothered him would be set all right.

But he wouldn’t care for those niceties, would he? In this lifetime, I wasn’t going to get a chance to pull his head in my lap!

He was intent upon relieving me of my duty to entertain Annie during the picnic. He played whatever games she wanted to play and asked me to relax and rest. I made use of his generosity and sat at the riverbank with my feet dangling in water. The stream was narrow and gentle there, and cold water was soothing on my skin. I had my back to the father and the daughter, who were playing a board game under a tree. It was better for my nerves, and my job security, if I didn’t stare at him all day long. I prayed for my peace of mind, and his, while I sat there.

“Do you like it here?” I would have been startled, if I hadn’t been aware that he was no longer chatting with his daughter. He had left her with a picture puzzle and I had heard his footsteps as he approached me.

“It’s beautiful,” I replied, but did not look back. I dared not meet his eyes. For some reason, tears were threatening to burst out of my own.

“Not just this… I mean this place, this job, the people…”

I forgot to breathe for a moment. For all his crude and rough exterior, he cares! I took a deep breath and brought my wayward feelings under control. I had to look him in the eyes and tell him. I pulled my feet out of water, stood up and turned to face him.

“You are very kind, Sir,” I hoped my voice was steady, “To me. I more than like it here. I am… I am happy here.” Afraid of saying more than was appropriate I immediately walked away from him to go to Ananya. Did I feel his gaze at me because I wanted to feel so, or was he really following me with his eyes?

—

Chanda was excited to be welcoming Mr. Roychowdhury’s paternal aunt in the house. The two women had known each other, when Chanda served at Roychowdhury house in Kolkata. Chanda was hungry for gossip and happy to have it in her mother-tongue. Accompanying Mrs. Roychowdhury was Debjani Mukherjee, her sister’s daughter, whom my employer introduced to me himself.

“Oh come on, Protim,” she exclaimed, “Isn’t Debjani a mouthful. How many times have I told you to call be Debi.” He responded with a smile, an almost hospitable social smile that I had never seen on him. Something pierced through my heart, but I knew it had no right to bleed.

“This is Sarah. Sarah Jacob. Annie’s tutor,” he continued the introduction.

“Tutor? No wonder, she looks the studious kind,” Debjani grinned.

If she meant to be derisive, I decided not to be oblivious of it and put on my best smile for her. “Welcome Ma’am. Is this your first time in Coorg?”

“First time in South India itself. And I am terrified. I have heard that Chanda has gotten into the habit of making idli-dosa all the time. I might have to retrain her.”

“Idli-dosa is not something to be eaten all the time, not even by South Indians, Ma’am,” I shouldn’t do this; I was aware of it even as I was speaking, but I just could not hold back. Why did Debjani inspire such bitterness in me within a few minutes of our first meeting? “There is much, much more to South Indian cooking. But I am sure Chanda Auntie has not forgotten her hospitality. She will cook what you like.”

Debjani whistled. “Ooooo. That’s one fiery teacher, Protim. Where did you find her?”

My employer fidgeted, but did not say anything.

“In an orphanage,” I looked not at her, but at him, as I answered in his stead; then turned to her, “Have a good day, Ma’am. You must be tired after the journey. Please take rest.”

—

To be continued

“Yes Sir.” I wasn’t going to haggle over a couple of paintings drawn in spare time.

“There was something…”

“Yes Sir?”

“I will be away for three days a week from now on.”

I stayed silent.

“You don’t seem to care about the reason. But…”

“Why would you say that?”

“You didn’t even ask why.”

“I didn’t want to be intrusive.”

“Ah! Propriety. If propriety could be sold in market, you’d be a millionaire by now, won’t you be?”

“Propriety is never up for sale.”

“No. It’s not,” a visible smile softened his features.

“Why would you be away?” I asked irritably.

“I have taken up a job at Mysore University. Three days a week, I will stay there and take classes. Monday to Wednesday. I needed to tell you because when I am away you would be Annie’s guardian.”

A thousand questions swarmed in my head. Why the job? If he wanted to continue working, why had he shifted to this godforsaken village in the first place? Bangalore was definitely a better place to be at. But having made a case for propriety just a while back, I dared not ask him anything. I quietly accepted the responsibility he had put on my shoulders.

—

Protim

Ananya didn’t take much time in adjusting to my absences. She and Sarah grew closer. Before long she started looking up to Sarah to take care of parental duties even when I was at home. When she didn’t feel well she would seek Sarah and would sleep with her. When she needed someone to play a game with her, or to read her a story, she went to Sarah.

They were playing a board game when I came home one Wednesday night. Ananya jumped at me and demanded her gifts. Sarah had looked on, smiling, patient as ever.

“All right. Let me catch my breath and let Manjunath bring my stuff from the car.”

“What have you brought for me?” Anaya demanded.

“It won’t take more than five minutes for you to find out.”

“What have you brought for Sarah Auntie?”

I was caught unawares. Sarah’s smile disappeared as a blush of embarrassment crept up on her cheeks.

“Sarah Auntie? Why? Was I expected to bring a gift for her?”

“Why not? You have brought me gifts every week, but never for her.” Unlike Sarah, her student was unabashed.

“Do you like gifts Ms. Jacob? Were you expecting one?”

My leg-pulling brought her wits back. She didn’t hesitate in replying. “Who doesn’t like gifts? But I had no reason to expect one, nor a claim on one. Ananya’s understanding is, of course, limited about this.”

“Hmm… There… That’s your gift. Take it and run along to Kaveri Auntie. I need to rest,” I sent Ananya to her aayah.

Sarah also made to leave.

“I didn’t ask you to leave.” Damn. Couldn’t I be more tactful?

“I… I thought you wanted to take rest…”

“I am yet to have my dinner. Have you had yours?”

She shook her head.

“I hope the dinner is ready.”

“I think so.”

“I will be there at the dinner table in five minutes.”

—

“So, you don’t think I should have brought you a gift?” I asked as I picked at my food.

“Why should you?” she didn’t eat as hungrily any longer as she had done in the initial days of her stay at my house.

“But if I got one, would it be wrong?”

She looked puzzled. I pretended not to notice her gaze and kept eating.

“Would it?” The best way to fight awkwardness was to be a jerk and keep insisting on answer to an ill-framed question!

“Mr. Roychowdhury. I have been brought up in an orphanage. I am not exactly adept at the subtleties of social behavior. Why would you pose a question like that to me? You yourself would know the answer better, won’t you?”

A bile suddenly rose in me despite myself. I laughed. “If I knew the ‘subtleties of social behavior’, you think I would have been holed up with you at this house in the middle of nowhere.”

“I hope you are not expecting me to teach you social behavior. The best I can do is teach Mathematics, English or Drawing to your daughter. That’s the limit of my abilities.” She was angry!

“Have you never received a gift?” I refused to take the bait. I would not acknowledge that she was angry.

“I have known those as charity. People trying to unburden themselves by… I don’t want any more of those.”

“Too bad!” I fished out a mobile phone from my pocket, “I already got you one.” I held out my hand for her to take the phone from it.

“What for? I don’t need this.”

“I do. I want to talk to you… about Annie’s progress when I am not around.”

“There is a phone at home.”

“Not convenient enough. Now take it. It’s an order from your employer, if you must be persuaded.”

“But… I don’t have money to pay the bill.”

“When you get a boyfriend, in good faith ask him to pay the bill. Until then I don’t think you will use it so much that I can’t afford to pay it.”

She flushed.

“And for God’s sake. There is no social situation here,” I said when she did not volunteer to take the mobile, “It is not charity. Just work!”

—

Sarah

I tried my best to steady my hand as I reached out to get the phone. But they betrayed me. I drew away my hand rather quickly.

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a gift.”

—

I was happy that Ananya kept me busier than before. Because, to my surprise, Mr. Roychowdury’s absence had created an aching void in my life. When he was around, I felt active, challenged. He kept me on my toes. He would appear from nowhere all of a sudden and start a conversation that would need me to keep all my wits about me. Earlier I used to think that all he did was annoy me with his moodiness. But I realized that I had come to cherish even his banal bantering like calling me a ghost. I looked forward to his return on Wednesday nights as eagerly as Ananya did. But while she was free to express her feelings, I had to restrain myself. I couldn’t look anxious before he came, nor appear jubilant after he did.

And I had started looking forward to his dinner-time conversations. Only four-days a week now. He was still as moody as ever. He could still be crude and crass. How abominable it was that he should turn the conversation about mobile bill to an imaginary, future boyfriend for me. But I had come to like even his coarseness. With him, there were no sugarcoated talks about the mercifulness of Jesus, goodness of mankind or the ultimate sanctum waiting for us. With him, it was only cold, hard, harsh truth. Bitter, sarcastic, gentle or direct, he spoke the truth!

—

To be continued

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