Page 40 of A Shimla Affair
‘It must be the heat,’ I said weakly.
He smiled, looking even more handsome from this new angle, his face directly above mine. ‘Well, it’s a good thing you are from India then, eh? Where it’s not hot at all.’
I gave a small laugh, and then a wet cloth was placed on top of my forehead. Charles helped me up and put me in the chair.
‘Feeling better now?’ He asked me, and I nodded, suddenly remembering why I had pretended to collapse.
I tried to interrupt Charles as he turned to the guard nearby, but I was unsuccessful.
‘Check this wagon properly, I think it’s stuck in something,’ he said to the turbaned guard before turning back to me.
I shrivelled up in fear again. My face must have lost all its colour in my panic because I heard Charles saying that I was not looking good. ‘Should we maybe call for the doctor?’ I heard him asking the others, but I could barely pay attention. Instead, I was staring at the turbaned guard, who was shifting the food in one corner of the wagon, hoping he would miss the gap in the baseboard.
‘Don’t worry,’ Charles said, noting the direction of my gaze. ‘We are checking everything that goes in and out Shimla these days. Many times, smugglers use others’ carts to sneak in illegal items. So, it’s best to have your wagons checked thoroughly.’
I barely managed to nod, seeing the guard take note of the gap in the baseboards. He thrust his hand inside, and I knew it was over for me. As he felt around the ammunition that lay underneath, I hung my head, unable to look at Charles any more.
I saw the guard peer deeper inside the wagon and then turn around to look at me.Game over, his face seemed to say. His eyes caught mine, and I saw the slightest twitch of his eyebrows. Why did he keep on staring at me? Why didn’t he immediately announce the concealed ammunition? I glanced at Charles, who was oblivious to all that had passed between me and the guard.
‘All clear, Sir,’ the guard called out and I almost exclaimed in surprise. Charles smiled, not noticing the guard still staring at me. I knew that he had seen the ammunition, but then why hadn’t he informed Charles?
‘Let’s get you home, Nalini. Why don’t you come by The Cecil Hotel tomorrow evening? I want to introduce you to a special guest.’
My ears stood up, could Charles possibly mean the mysterious visitor for whom all of Shimla was closed? I nodded, still feelingthe eyes of the turbaned guard at the back of my head. Why had he let me go?
Afreen and Ratan Babu didn’t believe me when I told them about the guard. ‘You must have not seen it correctly,’ Ratan Babu said. ‘This guard obviously didn’t check properly and thankfully missed out on noticing the ammunition under the baseboard. We got very lucky.’
I shook my head, but there was no logic to support my position. ‘I know what I saw. His look told me that he knew what was inside.’
But when they asked me what would be his motivation to let me go, I was at a loss. The more I dwelled on the topic, the more dissatisfied I was.
With rich teakwood floors, glowing fireplaces, a grander ballroom and a more central location, The Cecil often beat the Royal Hotel Shimla as the most beautiful and lively hotel in Shimla. The competition and resentment worked on both ends; we strongly suspected that they once sent a flock of monkeys to our grounds to disrupt our guests. Once the British shut down our hotel, The Cecil would finally have what it wanted all along.
It was strange to walk into a hotel and not be familiar with every nook and cranny. The staff at the entrance turned up their noses at the sight of me, perhaps they recognized me or perhaps it was because I was not white, but I was excited to see Charles. I cherished the memory of his arms, the sound of his voice calling out my name rang again and again in my head—even though my actions were inauthentic, my feelings for him were not.
I wanted to show myself as elegant and dignified again, as he had seen me last covered in sweat and dirt. I had dressed in abeautiful floral sari, applied attar and kohl, tinted my lips, and placed flowers in my braid. I hoped Charles would be taken in by my appearance—‘What chance do British women have in front of our elaborate saris, luminous hair and dark eyes?’ Noor often said.
Soft piano music played in the ballroom as I entered and immediately attracted curious, disdainful looks and strained, artificial smiles. I searched for Charles in a sea of black ties and evening dresses. The War might have been ravaging Europe, but it couldn’t be farther from Shimla’s season.
Charles and I both found each other at the same time, walking closer as though we were mirror images. Everybody else in the room felt inconsequential as we came nearer in a breathtaking moment.
‘Good evening …’
‘Good evening, Charles.’
‘I have decided to change my mind,’ he said.
‘About what?’
‘About Judy Garland being Dorothy inThe Wizard of Oz. It should be you actually, you’re the perfect Dorothy,’ he said and I had to laugh, as I looked down and realized that the heels I had borrowed from Noor were red.
He gave me his arm and I took it, following him without question. We might not have any prospects, but that didn’t make the present with him any less thrilling.
That was until I came face to face with the woman Charles had led us to. She had full lips, bright eyes and vivacious curly hair that she had dressed with a stylish hat. Her complexion was rosy yet clear-skinned. She was curvy in the right places and confidently wore a sparkly low-cut dress, a glass of champagne in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.
All my earlier confidence about being beautiful vanished. I felt small, awkward and traditional beside this stylish woman who,despite appearing rich and fashionable, gave me a wide smile without the usual patronizing look.
‘Nalini, this is Eliza May,’ Charles introduced her. ‘She has just arrived from England two days ago.’ The way she stood next to him, comfortable and charismatic, I knew it was all over.
