Mish' Fiction

“Do you truly mean to marry me? And out of love? Not for the sake of pity or charity?”

“What would you have me do? You tell me, Sarah. Whatever I have tried to do to make you reciprocate my feelings seems to have backfired. So, now I come to you for counsel. Tell me what would you have me do to make you accept me.”

“Ask me, just ask me. But stay there. Stay afar and ask me.” I wanted to hear him when his proximity was not making me light-headed.

He sank down to his knees, out of sheer exhaustion and not for the sake of making a romantic gesture – that would have been so unlike him – “Will you marry me, Sarah Jacob?”

That was the end of me. I could not have held back even if Father Jacob, or the son of the God himself had appeared before me and asked me to do so. I walked to him, deliberately measuring my steps as I was afraid I would trip over something in my excitement.

“Yes. I will.”

He looked up at me and in that instant all his exhaustion melted away. He bolted upright and pulled me in an embrace so tight that I started struggling for my breath soon.

“Sorry. Sorry, my love. I just…” he loosened his grip when he heard me gasping for air. He looked at me for a couple of seconds and then attacked my lips. My virgin mouth could not have imagined a more violent kiss. He probed, demanded and I had no option but to give in. I had to remember to keep breathing through my nose, else I would have fainted.

He was aware of how ferocious he had been when he broke the kiss. “I should probably send you to Delhi after all. For a while at least. I am violent in love right now and I am afraid I will hurt you.”

I could think of nothing to say. No loving admonishments, no witty rejoinders. I couldn’t even meet his eyes and kept mine downcast.

“She is silent. And she is blushing. My feral cat. Crow has gotten her tongue. But for now, I don’t mind. I am happy. I am so happy that I am almost afraid of it. Are you? Are you happy Sarah?”

“Yes Sir,” I forced myself to speak for his sake.

“Protim. Protim is the name my bride-to-be.”

“Protim!” The name felt unfamiliar, but delicious on my tongue. I could get used to chanting that name, forgive me God! I was happy.

He kissed me gently then. Licking and grazing at my lips until I voluntarily opened my mouth to let him in. He explored it leisurely, giving me time to breathe every few seconds and he left me wanting for more, much more by the time he withdrew.

“I am tempted to sin,” he spoke in a hoarse voice heavy with desire, “But my God-fearing fiancée will hate me for that. I must arrange for a wedding quickly. But right now, we must go in. It’s getting chilly. Come. Come with me Sarah and never leave my side again.”

—

Protim

“So, you drive Debjani away by telling her about your little secret. But you want to marry Sarah?” Chanda had worked with our family for long, had seen me grown up and had left her beloved Kolkata to take care of my household. Her attempt at dissuading me from what she thought was wrong should not been such an oddity, but it was. Because she had never ever taken that tone with me. Despite her older years, she had always treated me as the master and given me the space and respect the position demanded. So, it took me a few moments to acknowledge the verbal outburst and prepare a response.

“You have a problem with Sarah?”

“I have a problem with you. It’s not right. Not for her. She must know…”

“Debjani did not leave because of my secret. She left because she thought I would not be rich enough because of that secret. Sarah does not care for that. There is nothing else that matters.”

“What if…”

“Gods are my witness that I am doing the right thing by her. Why should a friendless, poor orphan not have a loving home of her own? And she is one right choice I have made in years. If He does not let me do that, I defy the God and the men alike.”

“Sugarcoating is not going to change the reality. If you have such faith, tell her the truth and then see what happens!”

“That’s enough, Chanda. I heard what you had to say. Not another word on this. Especially not to Sarah. Remember that.”

Thank God that this country has so many different languages, some completely unintelligible to the speakers of others.  As I turned to leave, I realized that Sarah must have overheard parts of our conversation. Although her manners won’t let her linger around to hear it in entirety, and she had already hastened away from the room where we were, what really saved my day was that Chanda and I were conversing in Bengali.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry upon you. I just happened to pass that way… And Chanda was angry. Is something wrong?” she was uncharacteristically nervous when I caught up with her.

“No. Nothing you need to worry about anyway.”

“She.. she wanted you to marry Debjani?”

She had definitely heard the names. I decided to let her believe that that was indeed the problem. “Are you surprised?”

“No.”

“Does it trouble you?”

She looked away. “Yes. I wish I were a better match for you…”

“Do you know how much money I have?”

“What? No! And I am not…”

“You are not marrying me for money?”

“Of course not! Why would you say something like that?”

“Yes. It’s a good thing you are not a ‘better’ match for me, Sarah. Else that’s precisely what you would be doing.”

“But that’s what everyone thinks, right?”

I went forward, cupped her face and made her look into my eyes. “What really matters to you, my little fiancée? What I think? Or what everybody else thinks?”

A smile broke on her lips. The smile I could have killed for. I didn’t need her to speak out her answer. I had it. I had her.  Before I knew it happened, my lips had found hers, and she was responding feverishly. God! Hadn’t she grown into a terrific kisser already? And all the other things I yearned to teach her! But I must wait for the wedding. She won’t have it otherwise.

“Do you know how old I am for you,” suddenly I felt the need to confess at least one of my anxieties, “People will wonder what Protim Roychowdhury is doing with a girl bride!”

“Let them wonder.”

“Don’t you wonder, Sarah?”

“No. I don’t. Why should I? We don’t wonder about what has always been the way of our lives. Or what seems like that.”

We were even!

—

To be continued

“You won’t leave.”

“Yes. I will,” I stood abruptly and took a step or two away from him, “I am poor and ugly. I know my situation, but I am not a machine. I have feelings just like you, and I too have a heart that beats. It has its own little whims too. It won’t let me stay on a servant, as a nobody in your house. If I was even a bit prettier, if I hadn’t been cast away by my family as an infant, if I had a family to be proud of, respectable even if not rich, I wouldn’t have sat on the sidelines. I would have made you fall in love with me. I would have made it as difficult for you to part with me, as it is for me. But that is not so. And I can’t take this heart out of my body and still live. So, if I have to live, I must go away. And since I have to go away, why should I not tell you the truth? She is rich and beautiful. You are a match for her in prestige and in money. What is also true is that you are nowhere as handsome as she is beautiful. Still you are the one who is marrying down, not she. She is not equal to you in her intellect. She has neither your generosity, nor your openness of mind. I say this to you not as your employee, not as someone who is socially, economically and in every other earthly way inferior to you, but as a human being to another human being, as two people created by God with equal love in His heart, as two equal people. ”

“Two equal people. Yes, Sarah. Just that.” He also stood up, came close to me and gathered me in his arms. His lips found mine and I had to turn my face away.

“You are as good as married, Sir. I won’t be your mistress. Let me go.”

“Where to? Delhi?”

“Delhi or Timbaktu. How does it matter? I have spoken my mind. I can go wherever I want.” His arms were still around me and I struggled to free myself.

“Stay still for a moment, would you? You are like a bird that’s harming herself in a frantic attempt to escape the net.”

“I am not a bird, and there is no net that I am caught in. I am a free person, I have my independent will, and I will exercise it now and leave you.”

He did not respond, but did not let me go either. I had to finally give up struggling and stand still. As soon as I did that, he freed me.

“Don’t run away Sarah, not before giving me a chance. Let your will decide your future and my fate.  I offer myself, my life to you Sarah. It is up to you to take it, or discard it.”

“Are you so cruel that you would play these games with me now?”

“I am asking you to marry me, to be my wife, to share my life and to let me share yours.”

“You have already chosen someone else to be that.”

“You are not in a mood to believe anything, Sarah. Just stay still and silent for a while, will you? I will do so too. I need to gather myself together. I don’t want to make mistakes now.”

I could feel the chilly evening breeze on my flush skin and hot cheeks. Goosebumps rose all over my body. The birdsong, the unique birdsong of this house, of Hojukeri, of life, was on. And in listening to it I started weeping again. Silent tears defied my will and rolled down my cheeks. But I stayed still and silent just as he had asked. At last he spoke.

“Come to my side, Sarah and let us explain and understand each other.”

“I cannot come to your side. It’s not my place.”

“I ask you to come here as my wife.”

Why did he continue to mock me?

“Come to me, Sarah.”

“Your fiancée, the real one, stands between us.”

He strode towards me and gathered me in his arms again. “My fiancée, my bride and wife-to-be is here. In marrying her, I won’t be marrying down. She is my intellectual equal. Sarah, will you marry me? Please.”

I did not answer.

“You do not trust me at all?”

“It isn’t the first time you would be mocking me.”

“As a friend, yes – I have amused myself at your expense. What is the use of denying that? But I never meant disrespect, Sarah. I know how I appear, but I would not mock someone who was really an inferior. That would be an insult.”

“Ms. Mukherjee has your family’s approval.”

“Don’t you understand, Sarah? Did you yourself not point out all the reasons that I couldn’t possibly be in love with her? And if you must know the gory details, here they are. I have convinced her that most of my money is not really secure in my own hand. How I did that is something I don’t want to get into. And since she left, I haven’t heard from her or from my aunt. So much for my family. Why wouldn’t you listen to and believe me, Sarah? Me whom you know inside out by now. With all his crassness and lack of politeness and propriety. With all his insecurities and loneliness. Why wouldn’t you listen to me instead of trying to listen to those imaginary people you call my family?”

“You want me to believe that you truly love me? And that you have turned Ms. Mukherjee away because of me?”

“Damn Ms. Mukherjee. I was never going to marry her. Let’s not talk about her. But about you. You are a strange, unearthly creature Sarah. Poor, plain orphan or whatever you are, I love you and only you. I beg you to accept me. What would you have me do to make me believe you?”

“Let me look at your face.”

He let me go immediately and stepped back so that we could look each other in the eye. “Why?”

“I want to read your face.”

“Then do it quickly, girl. You will be the death of me with those faithful, but questioning eyes. I doubt you can read anything on a crumpled, scratched paper that my face must be. ”

He was agitated, his eyes were restless, and moist with tears held back with difficulty. He did look tortured. But I was scared still.

—

To be continued

Protim

I had returned from Mysore last night. The dinner I had come to looked forward to had been impossible to swallow. Yesterday she wasn’t sitting across from me and listening to me talk. Today  I aimlessly wandered around the plantation and I prayed; prayed like I had never done before. Let her come back to me and I would set everything right. No more games, no more manipulations. I would bare it all and beg her for her acceptance.

“Mr. Roychowdhury?” My breath caught in my throat. How could she appear without a sound? But as always, there she was as I turned around, wearing her brown dress. She had only two as far I could tell – one black and one brown. Unless she had the multiple dresses of same two colors sewn.

“Sarah!” There was something I had decided I had to do as soon as she came back. What was it? I was unable to gather my wits together. I was growing limp with relief. She was back. She was there. That moment was all that mattered. The next moment, when she could have disappeared as quietly as she came, or the next day, the next month, the rest of my life – none of it mattered.

“I am sorry, it took me longer to return.”

“You had left your mobile behind.”

“I forgot.”

I had assumed that it was deliberate, a message that she wasn’t coming back. An insecure man’s mind is a fertile one. It can conjure up believable reasons for most implausible things if those feed into the cycle of self-pity and insecurity he has fallen into. But a simple action that would decide the matter for him one way or the other eludes that fertile mind, so busy it is embellishing the imagined misfortunes. I could have called up at the orphanage, I could have driven down to Bangalore, I could have tried a thousand other ways to get in touch with her. But that mobile… Since the first time I had heard it ringing in the house after she had left, it had been mocking me, laughing at me, ridiculing my desires and dreams.

My exuberance on realizing that none of those misfortunes had been real was frighteningly violent. The mobile was left behind because of that simple human folly of forgetfulness. I could forgive her that. Heck! I could forgive her a murder or two if only she would…

“I am glad you are back. I thought…” Don’t say too much, I told myself. Nothing good could come from talking when my mind was so muddled up.

“I am not such a thankless creature, Sir. I won’t just disappear.”

“No. You are not.”

“Your guests have left?”

“They were here only for two weeks. They left.”

“To return soon, I hope. At least one of them…”

“To return?”

“Aren’t congratulations in order, Sir?” she smiled – a weak, worn-out smile, “I am not going to disappear on you. But I think it’s time I started looking for another job. Once your wife is here, a tutor may not be needed for Ananya.”

“My wife?”

“You might not even stay here. If you went back to Bangalore, or shifted to Mysore, she would have good schools.”

What had come upon her? How come she was yapping like that, without any provocation from me, and what exactly was she trying to convey? Had she rehearsed all this before coming?

“You are right. Once my wife is here, a tutor may not be needed for my daughter.”

“You are getting married soon, I think.”

“Soon. I hope.”

“Then I must find another job quickly and until then I hope I can stay here…”

“Yes. And I owe you to find another job for you, if you need one. I will do that. Would you like me to do that?”

“It would be very helpful, though I don’t want to trouble you…”

“There is this place in Delhi…”

“In Delhi?”

“Yes. In Delhi.”

“It’s too far.”

“Why should that matter to you? It’s not like you have family or friends here.”

“It’s too far.”

“Too far from?”

“From everything I have known. From Bangalore… From here…”

“You haven’t been here for long. And Father Jacob…”

“Father Jacob is dead, yes. And I haven’t been here for long. But I have still known this house, this plantation, Ananya, all the other people and…”

“And?”

Sarah

“And you!” I threw aside all caution and propriety. I had to go away. Why should I care? Why should I not unburden myself?

“Me! Yes. I don’t go to Delhi often. I haven’t been there in years and I have no reason to go there in future either. Once you are there, we’d hardly meet, if ever.  And Sarah, you would miss having a friend there, won’t you? Have we become friends, Sarah?”

“Yes Sir,” I didn’t add ‘the only one I have.’

“Friends who are about to separate. We should spend some time with each other, then, shouldn’t we? That’s what friends do. Come, walk with me. We’d sit somewhere quiet and spend some time together. To create a lifetime of memories”

We sat down at a spot of his choosing, I remembered to maintain my distance from him.

“I get a queer feeling sometimes, Sarah. That there is a thread. A thin, almost invisible one. But sharp as a razor. One end of it tied to my heart. And the other end is with someone else, tied to her heart probably. Should she go too far from me, that thread will snap. And it will cut across my heart and I will bleed myself to death. Do you understand that feeling? I guess not. You would go to Delhi and then forget about me.”

“That will not happen…” It was all very peculiar, but I was too grieved to notice it. I was a fully-blown balloon of emotions, ready to burst at the touch of a pin.  But at the same time, I was also a lifeless zombie. I could have been led anywhere by anyone, and I could have said anything to anybody.

“Do you hear this birdsong? I don’t know which bird it is. But I can recognize the song. You don’t hear in in Bangalore. Or Delhi. Probably there aren’t enough trees there. Or probably this bird doesn’t stay there. This place…”

“I wish I had never come to this place,” I screamed. The pin-prick had come. The balloon had burst. I broke into sobs.

“Because you are unhappy about leaving it?”

My emotions were running wild. They had no care for propriety, manners, or even the humiliation I would afflict on myself by talking my heart out.

“Yes. I am unhappy about leaving a place that has treated me with dignity, leaving people who have respected me, leaving Ananya who has given me an unconditional love of a child, and leaving you . You, who I have come to respect, whose company stimulates me intellectually, in whose presence I don’t feel suffocated, but constantly challenged to improve. Yes. I am unhappy about leaving you. I have to leave though. And it is like looking at a certain death in eyes.”

“Why do you have to leave?”

“Why? Why do I have to leave? You don’t see it, do you? How can you? What right does a penniless orphan have to feel insulted when a rich and beautiful woman from a respected family becomes your wife and the mistress of your house? Why shouldn’t I be happy pandering to her whims? Why shouldn’t I be grateful for my salary, and the roof over my head, while she claims you all for herself. Yes – I have no right. And still – I will feel insulted, I will suffocate and I will die a thousand deaths each day.  So, whether you think that I should leave or not, I will leave.”

—

To be continued

As I approached his study, I heard Debjani’s chatter. I didn’t want her around, but I dreaded meeting him alone too. This was the best I would have, I thought to myself as I knocked on the door.

“Yes?” his voice was gruff, in contrast to Debjani’s silvery tongue.

He bolted out of the chair as soon as he saw me entering.

“Sorry for disturbing…”

“What is it?” he cut through my preliminaries.

“I need to go…”

“What?”

“I mean, for a few days. To see Father Jacob. He is unwell.”

“Is he?”

“You think I would lie about something like that?” I couldn’t help getting annoyed. “You can ask Kaveri. She was the one who received the call.”

“I don’t have to ask anyone. When do you want to go?”

“Right now.”

“For how long?”

“I don’t know…” I saw his eyebrows rising and realized that my reply was not helping his suspicions, “I would like to come back in three or four days, but if he is unwell and wants me there…”

“Very well. I will drop you to the bus stop…”

“I will find someone to drop me. Some bus or…”

“It is better to get a bus from Madekeri. You are more likely to find a seat. And I said I will drop you. Go, pack your stuff.”

“I wouldn’t mind a drive either,” Debjani threw in her weight, “I would come with you, Protim. You won’t have much luggage, would you Sarah?”

“No Ma’am. Just a bag.”

He opened his mouth, but closed it without saying anything. It had looked like he would refuse Debjani, but then changed his mind. It made sense. It won’t give the right message to his fiancée, if he insisted on accompanying me alone to Madikeri.

“Annie might want to come too,” he told me, “Ask her.”

“Yes Sir.”

—

Protim

I had never understood the metaphor of something slipping out of your hand like sand better than on that day, on our ride to Madekeri bus stop. On the way to the main road, at a spot about four kilometers from Hojukeri, I found myself pressing the breaks abruptly.

“Oh my God! What happened Protim?”

“Daddy! I could have fallen off.”

Debjani and Annie screamed in chorus.

Sarah was also shaken, but she did not say anything. Our eyes met for a moment in the rear-view mirror. And I knew that she recognized the spot too. This was where I had met her first with a broken jeep. I never could redeem myself since then, could I?

Annie’s affection for Sarah surprised me yet again. She kept badgering her to return early all through our ride and even when we waited on the Madikeri bus stand. Sarah herself looked close to tears, as she hugged my daughter one last time before stepping on the bus. For me, though, she didn’t even have a spare glance. She did not forget her manners. She thanked be adequately for granting her leave and for dropping her. But she did not meet my eyes even as she spoke.

Had I lost her?

—

Sarah

Why did I ever wish for a normal life? Inch by inch, my previous simple life from the orphanage days was crumbling down and the normal life was showing its true, complicated colors.

Father Jacob was breathing his last, willing himself to wait, just for me. He asked to talk to me alone as soon as I reached there.

“It is not for me to take this decision, child,” he told me, “Your real family has been asking about you.”

“You know them?” Shock couldn’t have adequately described what I felt.

“I didn’t always. But sometime back, someone came enquiring. About a child they had left… Everything matched.”

I was tongue-tied for a long minute. Did I want to know any further? What would I hear? Why was I abandoned? Could it be any good?

“You may not be ready to hear it all, Sarah,” Father Jacob spoke with difficulty, “But I don’t have time. I must tell you. I am sorry about that, my child.”

“Father. You are unwell. We can talk later…”

“No. No. Time is what I don’t have. You must listen. And you must be brave. Can you do that for me, Sarah?”

“Yes Father.” He deserved to unburden himself in his last moments.

My family was rich. A fairly well-known Marwari business family in Bangalore. The kind who want sons to carry their legacy forward. My father’s elder brothers had too many daughters already. I had a twin brother. So, when I was born they decided to keep only the son and… My mother was told that her daughter was still born. A trusted servant of the family was entrusted to dispose me off. And it was he who had come looking for me now.

“Why?” I willed myself not to choke on my words.

“Your brother needs a bone marrow transplant. They have tried hard to find a matching donor, but failed. You are their best hope.”

“My brother?”

“Your bitterness is understandable, child. But do remember that he was innocent is all this. And even for others. Forgiveness…” his voice trailed as I looked sharply at him. Then I felt guilty.

“Forgive me my weaknesses, Father. You know how I am.”

“You are all right, Sarah. And I know you would do the right thing. Open the cupboard, and bring me the diary from the right drawer.”

I did as he bid me to do. He leafed through the diary with difficulty and showed me the page with their contact details.

I copied it on a paper and kept the diary back in its place in the cupboard. Then I sat beside Father Jacob in silence for a long time. He was content to let me sit.

“Forgiveness,” I spoke finally, “That is what you would expect of me, Father, won’t you?”

“Yes. Although there is more for you if you go back to them than just peace of mind,” he smiled weakly, “You have a rich family, Sarah. You will never want for anything.”

“I am not going back to them, Father. I had no say when they threw me out. But I will have a say when they want me back. Whatever I do, I will do it on my own terms now. And no! I am not going back to them.”

“I expected no less from you, child. But forgiveness is still…”

“Charity they shall have, if God has made me capable of that. I hope the marrow matches.”

—

To be continued

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