Page 21 of A Shimla Affair
‘There is something that I want to ask of you, and if you refuse, it would be completely all right with me.’
‘What is it?’
I took a deep breath. ‘There is a piece of news I have been curious about, the resolution to which I was never satisfied with. Five years ago, a ship, the SSNapier, left Bombay for Karachi. It sounds very random but I was wondering if there was any way that you could find out the full story behind it? The papers said that the ship sank due to a manufacturing error, but what was the error?’
He seemed very puzzled by my sudden interest in ships, I could see there were a hundred questions in his eyes. ‘Are you asking out of curiosity?’
‘In a way, yes.’
He pondered over it for some time, and then said he would see what he could do.
‘Thank you,’ I said, smiling. ‘And for the letter from the Viceroy … I can’t believe you did that for us.’
He nodded, but I could see that he was still thinking about my inquiry. If he had guessed that the question was connected to my father, he didn’t betray his understanding. Instead, he said, ‘Now may I ask you something? Why do you have the wish to act in the movies?’
His words hit me like a cannonball. Everybody had only ever told me that I couldn’t be an actress; nobody had ever asked mewhyI wanted to be one.
The answer was ready on my lips even before I had a chance to think about it, as if it had been bubbling beneath the surface all these years, aching to come out.
‘Because then I don’t have to be me. I don’t have to be the girl with no parents. I don’t have to be an Indian serving tea at a hotel, the guests just looking through me like I am a nobody. I don’t have to be a woman simply awaiting the same old story of servitude in a loveless marriage.’
He thought about my response all the way to the hotel. I thought Noor would admonish me for bringing Charles there. But instead, she smiled politely at him and, when we stepped inside, told me, ‘I got a notice that says we must leave the hotel by the end of summer.’
My heart turned to stone, and I followed her as she led Charles and I through the cellar and into the bunkers. Lit up by lamps and candles, Khushilalji prepared the space for us. There were several pipes, hookahs and other guests awaiting us inside.
I was surprised to see Mr Sood. He walked across the room to greet me, Ratan Babu following behind. This time Sood wore a khadi kurta. He stared intensely at Charles and they both surveyed each other, seeming to forget that I was there as well.
‘I’m Ramandeep Sood. I trade in nuts and dry fruits.’
‘Charles Nayler, Viceroy’s office,’ Charles said without withdrawing his hands from his pockets. ‘You seem familiar.’
‘I have been around town for a long time, Sir. I know it inside out.’
‘What is your take on how the war is going on, Mr Nayler?’ Ratan Babu interrupted.
‘It’s quite a disaster for now,’ Charles said, still staring at Mr Sood, ‘Unless we get some major help, we are getting flattened soon. With France and Holland surrendering … no one expected this, and the general feeling is, and I daresay it’s true that Chamberlain has led us right into the pit.’
Unbeknownst to Charles, Ratan Babu and he were truly on opposite sides. To avoid raising Charles’ suspicion, I introduced him to the other hotel guests in attendance: Rajmata and Inder Singh Narayan, distantly related to the royal family of Jaipur, and Roy Hopkins, the presiding officer of a district in Punjab. Mr Hopkins was a regular at the hotel, coming here every summer for rest and relaxation.
‘We start with the opium,’ I ushered Charles towards Afreen, who was heating a bowl on a small lamp. She offered him a pipe and a chair.
Charles coughed after inhaling the first time, and Afreen grinned at Noor.
‘It takes time,’ I assured him, and he smiled as I took the pipe from him.
The opium coursed through my veins. My entire body was drawn into a whirlpool of magic as I gave away more and more parts of myself to the headiness, forgetting about the impending threat to our hotel. In a few minutes, serenity gave way to sharpness, as if someone had turned up the volume again, and everything slid back into focus.
After everyone else had had their first round, Noor announced that Rajmata Narayan would tell the evening’s story. Noor beckoned her to the storyteller’s chair, clapping for attention.
Mrs Narayan was dressed delicately, with a number of jewels on her person and a veil stopping just above her eyes. She sat with her chin held high and, even in the dark, the diamond and gold she wore glittered.
‘Today, I will tell you the story of how the tides came to be,’ she began. As the last of the shuffling stopped, besides her voice, all one could hear were the exhales of smoke.
‘Once upon a time, the Ocean loved the Moon, and they spent many dark nights together, but far apart, in the blanket of the starry night sky. The Ocean loved that even in the dimness of the night, the Moon could light up so much of the world. She loved that it was under his benevolent glow that lovers met in secret, and romance flourished. The Moon, in turn, loved the Ocean’s gentleness and fierceness, how she nestled the smallest sea creatures, yet conjured up the largest storms.
‘They were so in awe of each other that they didn’t know how to solve their biggest problem: that they were so far apart. Foronce, the Ocean wanted to engulf the Moon in her hug, shower him with kisses. But he was high up in the sky and she deep below in Earth’s recesses. The Ocean had an idea: she started to collect water so that, one day, she could be high enough to reach him. For years and years, she let herself fill up, rising slowly from the rocky ground deep inside to the surface of the Earth.
‘But when the Earth saw the Ocean, he lost his heart to her. She told him that her true love was the Moon and that she was collecting water to reach him. Upon hearing this, the Earth lost his mind and, in a fit of rage and malice, weighed the Ocean down with islands all over her body, splitting her up in rivers and streams so that she may never be tall enough to reach the Moon.
