Page 15 of A Shimla Affair
‘There’s one more thing, if you must know. I have known of your father. In the circles that my family struggles in, he is famous. I have considered him my guru, my mentor. He was a fine man, and from what we understand, he refused to help the British until his dying breath. Can you find a better Parsi foryour sister, than the one who admires your father? I would never take her identity away from her … or his legacy.’
If Noor had more questions, she didn’t ask, acceding that she had lost the right to dictate Afreen’s life. All she did was join her hands: ‘Would you be staying here further or returning to Bombay with your bride?’
I tried to intervene. ‘Noor—’.
‘No, I accept the will of the gods. If Afreen was meant to marry this way, then so be it. Who am I to oppose what fate has decided?’
Ratan Babu paused before answering. ‘If you don’t mind, I want to continue staying here as I have business in Shimla. I will pay my fare to the hotel, and take Afreen to Bombay when time permits.’
Noor nodded, and gave me one last tired look: ‘You may move to his room, Afreen. And Nalini, you are not to see Charles Nayler any more,’ she added, before walking away.
Aghast, I watched Noor’s figure leave the room. Why was I suddenly the victim of her anger?
Silence filled the room, which Afreen finally dared to break. ‘Noor is right. He works for the Viceroy. If he gets a whiff of what we are up to, he wouldn’t think twice about sending us to jail.’
I tried to keep the anger out of my voice, ‘Double standards! I told you I won’t tell anyone, and Charles is not like that.’
He and I had begun writing to each other since our meeting at Davico’s. I eagerly waited for a runner to deliver his letters. He told me about all his favourite movies—many of those watched in Calcutta—the walks he took in Shimla and his big dreams of one day travelling in a ship around the world. I told him about our days in the hotel, the strange requests of our hotel guests (could you arrange for us to pet some baby goats, please?) and the books I read in the late hours of the evening.
I wondered sometimes what I was doing: surely, it would be completely out of the question to have expectations about anything, for he was a British officer at the Viceroy’s office, one of his secretaries, in fact. Yet, my heart jumped at the chance of our next conversation, and I continued the correspondence, hiding our relationship from my sisters.
Ratan Babu joined in, ‘That’s not how we meant it, Nalini, but I feel it is my duty to tell you that Nayler is a good English officer who’s done all that he can to support his government and administration. More than anything, I heard that he’s hoping to find companionship in Shimla, a wife to suit his social position. The town is full of eligible, young English women who would fit his needs—someone who is used to life on this tropical land and is also looking for an officer as a husband. He’s much more likely to choose a wife matching his circumstances. Don’t pin your hopes on him. He works for the Viceroy and is as English as they get.’
I muttered that I wasn’t hoping to be Charles’ wife and walked further away from them, realizing that in the recesses of my mind, that is exactly what I had dared to think.
Jealousy consumed every fibre of my being as I imagined Charles dancing with a faceless woman wearing a glamourous gown. I saw him gazing at her with adoration, smiling at something she said. Behind this jealousy was the realization that I’d never be what Charles wanted, and my resolve to be free tightened itself like a noose around my neck.
While on the one hand, Afreen crusaded against the English, one of her best creations was her take on the English caramel custard. She changed the well-intentioned dessert, which isbland to the Parsi taste, into a thing of beauty. Crushed nuts, rosewater, cinnamon and nutmeg—she had tried several versions before perfecting a recipe that brought about a flurry of compliments amongst the English in town. What nobody knew was that Afreen cooked it in a pressure cooker and not the oven—whoever had heard of steaming a custard?
No one else could really make it like her, and the English couldn’t believe the potential their custard had. When it came to food, the English cuisine was no match for Indian creativity. It began to be called the Parsi custard, and was never displayed on the menu, only known to those who asked for it. Reservations were often made to enjoy the tea and the Parsi custard, which Afreen prepared personally.
When the Commander-in-Chief’s aide, Lord Beeson, called on us to pay a visit, along with some of his colleagues, the Parsi custard had to be served. My heart gave a lurch when I saw Charles walk in with the Viceroy’s party. It was the first time I’d seen him since Davico’s, and Ratan Babu’s words rang in my ears.
I stared at Charles as he discretely passed me a letter. I didn’t dare open it with everyone present. In a formal setting, I expected to be ignored by him, the intimacy of our previous meetings shoved under the carpet. But once settled around the table, he passed me friendly smiles, even addressing me directly once to ask if, in my taste, the English tea fit with the Parsi custard. I had to hide my giggle and smile in response.
Pots full of Darjeeling tea sent up wisps of steam that matched impeccably with the spongy lemon cakes, chocolate eclairs and toffee pudding. But the centrepiece was the Parsi custard, with its burnt brown hues and fresh, whipped filling, crushed pistachio and almonds.
‘The custard is truly special, Miss Mistry,’ Lord Beeson said, looking directly at Afreen, who herself hadn’t taken any. Shealways believed the cook should only start once the guests finished. She folded her hands in gratitude and bent her head. Beeson did seem genuine and, in that second, his appreciation of something so simple as a sweet made him seem a bit more humane.
‘English food is rather popular among your people, the Parsi community, I have heard.’
‘Not in its original form,’ Afreen answered. ‘We did take some parts of the English cuisine, but our food has been influenced by the various communities that sought to dominate us over and over through the ages. Right from the time us Parsis had to flee our native land, we reinvented ourselves according to where we lived—yet preserving our cultural heritage—the part of us that makesus, always adding a little twist that makes us stand out.
‘We are so few, yet we survived for centuries because we never give up. We adapt and survive. We took the sari but wear it our own way. In the same manner, I take on the custard but try to keep it distinct. In our language, there is a saying: to know a people, one must know their food, my Lord.’
A silence fell over the table, and I felt a surge of pride in how smart, proud and fearless Afreen was. Even Noor, who still hadn’t accepted Afreen’s actions completely, couldn’t help but break into a smile.
‘We have been in India for more than two centuries, Miss Mistry,’ Lord Beeson replied with a laugh. ‘I would presume we know the people quite well. More than your understanding would allow.’
He cleared his throat before continuing, looking at the other two officers and then Charles. ‘You were not briefed about the agenda before, Nayler, but very well. So, Mrs Noor Irani, as I understand, you are the eldest sister. Along with your two younger sisters, you had been granted the right to reside in your father’s former property, the Royal Hotel Shimla?’
A pause followed, and I saw Noor look surprised. Afreen too stiffened in attention, leaning forward. We weren’t aware there had been a real agenda to the meeting, having assumed they wanted to discuss the Summer Jubilee Ball, and were taken aback by the sudden change in tone.
‘Yes, Lord Beeson,’ Noor replied cautiously. ‘Is there a problem?’
He ignored the question. ‘And you have been residing here for the last five years conditional on the terms you agreed to following your father’s death, is that right?’
‘That is correct, my Lord. That we would take care of the hotel, and stay away from any political activity, as long as we were allowed to live here.’
