Page 34 of A Shimla Affair
‘Do you think your sister would let me see you more?’
‘I suppose she would be worried about what it would mean.’
Charles smiled reassuringly, ‘I wouldn’t ever ask to see you if I wasn’t serious about it. You must believe that about me. My grandfather always told me to do the right thing, and I would never veer from that.’
I believed him immediately and another wave of guilt washed over me. I had to ignore all the emotions that sprang due to his declaration—hope, disappointment, dejection. But most of all, disbelief, at myself, that I was manipulating this honest, kind-hearted man, when all he wished me was good.
‘Charles, I am sorry, I will have to go soon. I have a curfew.’
He nodded, swallowing whatever he was going to say, and directed me to some food he insisted I have before leaving. I took a few customary bites, pitying my situation, dwelling on the unfairness of life as I stared at him while he stood next to me. When we finally said goodbye, he ordered me a tonga.
‘I was very glad to see you,’ he said, as I made to leave, and I looked back at him; his eyes shone, even in the darkness outside, and I gave a small smile, my throat constricted. I turned away before I did something I wasn’t allowed to, barely managing to stop myself from crying.
As the tonga made its way home, I clenched my fists, watching Charles retreat, hating myself and the world aroundme. Suddenly, I saw a dark figure at the turn of the road and popped my head out. What in the world was a lone man doing in the middle of a deserted path in the darkness?
To my utter surprise, it was Sood. I told the tongawalla to stop. ‘Mr Sood?’ I called out, and he almost jumped. ‘Are you quite all right?’
‘Who is it?’ Sood called out.
‘It’s Nalini Mistry, from Royal Hotel Shimla! Is something wrong? Are you waiting for a ride? You can get in, it’s about to rain!’
He stood frozen for a few seconds, and then walked towards the tonga, boarding it. ‘Thank you. I was stranded, you guessed right. Are you going towards town?’
‘Yes, what are you doing here?’
The tonga was quite small, but he managed to keep some distance from me as he sat on the other side. ‘I had gone out for a walk, and lost in my thoughts, somehow I turned up here.’
‘On the hill outside the club?’ I asked surprised.
‘No,’ he admitted sheepishly, ‘I was here trying to have a look, see who’s who, when they leave and with whom—trying to confirm some rumours …’
I smiled with understanding, ‘I was doing much the same.’
‘Really?’ he asked with surprise, ‘How so?’
‘Well,’ I glanced at the tonga driver, wary of the silence that surrounded us. Sood nodded and instead we chatted of nonsensical things as we arrived in town. I knew it was inappropriate for us to keep company at this hour; I hoped we would arrive soon. As luck would have it, the tonga broke down when we were still in town. Sood got down to help the driver fix it.
I too stepped out, walking around the periphery of the street when I noticed a man sticking some posters in the street ahead of me. I knew this area to be the Muslim neighbourhood thatBegum Jaan lived in, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from what the man was doing. Why would he put up posters in the middle of the night?
I walked back to Sood and said quietly, ‘You need to see this, I think there is something strange going on.’
Sood came with me to the edge of the street, we looked at the man from afar, ‘Should we go closer and see what he is putting up?’
‘No,’ Mr Sood said immediately, stepping forward and shielding the man from my view. ‘It could be very dangerous! I should be accompanying you back home to safety!’
‘But can’t you tell he’s doing something strange? Why would he—’
‘Miss Mistry, it’s best if you stay back.’
I had to find out what was going on. I sidestepped Sood and walked swiftly towards this man. ‘Hey, you!’ I yelled, ‘What are you doing?’
The man threw me a stricken look and flung the papers still in his hand. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of his face, his turban and a beard.
‘Wait, wait! What are you—’
The man ran to the other end of the street. I rushed after him, but Sood caught up to me and stopped me, and the man was able to flee.
I walked over to the wall: the man had stuck the same poster several times over. On a closer look: ‘Save your Hindu brothers,’ the writing on the poster said. ‘From their stepbrothers.’
