Page 45 of A Shimla Affair
After getting out of the drawing room, we would need to cross a gallery and then walk to the study, open the door and find a spot to hide inside. The biggest problem was walking past the kitchen, which, although sat on the opposite side of the gallery, was full of the servants. ‘Let’s just rush through, there is no other way,’ Afreen said and I muttered a small prayer and started crawling towards the gallery. So far, it was quiet and, once in the gallery, we got up and walked quickly but silently through it.
‘We have to run past,’ Afreen said, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward.
We would have just made it if my elbow hadn’t knocked against the shelf. It rattled and, with a resounding crash, a vase fell to the ground, almost as if Noor’s warning made it happen. I almost cursed out loud but both of us managed to get inside the study and close the door behind us, standing against it, not daring to move. We heard footsteps approach where the vase had fallen, just a door between us.
I prayed to God they wouldn’t come into the study, and we got lucky once again. ‘Must be that accursed cat!’ somebody shouted. My heart only slowed down when the footsteps faded away. We searched for a hiding place, knowing we didn’t have long. The room had a meeting table in the centre and bookshelves across two of the walls. There was a desk by the window, next to an umbrella stand, and that was pretty much all.
I looked at Afreen, both of us blank about where we could hide, this had to be the most unfurnished study in all of Shimla. The only possibility was to go up the stairs to the loft, where there were a few more bookshelves and another sofa.
We hurried towards the loft, going up the flimsy wooden stairs. We would have to push the sofa forward and crouch behind it, hoping that Beeson wouldn’t notice it lying slightly more ahead than usual. Lifting the sofa from each end to avoid making any noise, I asked Afreen to first hide at the back as I inspected the room from different angles, trying to see if anything looked out of place. I tried not to think about the possibility of being found; there was no excuse in the world that could justify us being there, and being caught would be a good enough reason to be hanged.
We crouched there for what seemed like hours before the doors finally opened. I could judge by the weight of the footsteps that a servant had hurried in. A few minutes later, I heard more voices—Beeson, the Viceroy and their guest had arrived. My palms started sweating, my breathing got faster, and I focused on calming myself. The reality of what we were doing dawned on me: how foolish and reckless it was, how very uncaring of life itself.
Afreen joined her hands, keeping one on top of the other, and gave me a reassuring smile. ‘Ekla cholo re,’ she whispered to me.
‘What’s that?’
She leant even closer to me, her voice barely louder than my beating heart: ‘The Tagore song … it means, keep going, even if no one is with you. No matter how difficult the path is, even if people leave your side, you just stay determined and strong. You might think like your world has come to an end … but if youjustkeep going forward, in your heart, even on your own … you can do anything you want.’
She had always been the brave one, and when I saw her face—fearless and determined in the face of absolute odds as we flattened ourselves against the wall, when I saw her straining her ears fiercely, ready to battle a whole empire—I felt ready, too. She flicked my nose with her finger, giving me another squeeze of encouragement, and I nodded, feeling braver than before.
We sat in absolute silence, tempering our own breathing into the sound of nothingness and, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and we heard the stressed movements of two more servants, setting the room in order, perhaps placing tea and water, before hurrying out. We could see nothing, but our position in the room allowed us to hear everything, the downside being that they would also be able to hear any movement we made. Yet, the moment, in its entirety, was surreal: Lord Beeson, the Viceroy and a Parliamentarian from London were sitting just a few feet away from us for a confidential meeting.
Afreen and I sat next to each other, flat against the bookshelves, the back of the sofa in front of us.
They made small talk for a few minutes. The man from London—whose name we soon learnt to be Lord Hastings—talked about the chaos back home, how the War was taking its toll, that nothing functioned as it did before, that everything was so expensive. The economy was floundering, there were men on the streets desperate for jobs and the German advance was moving at an unimaginable speed. He complained about the Americans, the Russians, the French and the Irish. Both Afreen and I listened with deliberation. So, this is how heads of empires talked among themselves, how they spent their days. Funnily enough, it didn’t sound that different from Noor discussing the hotel’s running for the day with us all.
‘Coming to the roses, Lord Hastings—’ the Viceroy interrupted.
Lord Hastings paused and then replied, ‘Now that I have seen the town for myself, I am happy to offer the Prime Minister’s assent for the operation.’
There were some exclamations and sighs, and Afreen and I looked at each other excitedly—this was clearly what the meeting was for. But what operation and what roses? Afreen and I held hands, knowing we were getting closer.
‘But first,’ Lord Hastings said, ‘Beeson, your report.’
We heard some shuffling of papers, and a chair moving back. ‘I am quite happy to report that my agent was able to put into effect the forces needed for the affair. We suffered minimum damage, our offices functioned mostly normally, and the impact was high. Resistance has lowered in the city, a breakdown of law and order seen as a much larger threat. The natives are afraid of going for political rallies or protests and any kind of crowded meetings since, for fear of infighting between the different communities. All in all, the operation was implemented successfully in Shimla, and the model can be used in the other major cities to curb mutinous actions.’
‘You have an Indian agent?’ Lord Hastings asked, ‘Is he trustworthy?’
‘Certainly. We need not just ours, but also their eyes on the ground. Besides, as he is so fond of saying, here, one and one make eleven—ek aur ek gyarah.’
My heart drummed against my chest and I was afraid that, in every pause they held to take in a breath, they would hear us and execute us on the spot.
‘Do not mistake Shimla with other cities,’ the Viceroy said with impatience. ‘Shimla is not like Lahore, or Lucknow, or Bombay.’
‘But, Sir, the other cities provide even better conditions for our operation,’ Beeson said. ‘Shimla had been quiet, docile, essentially a British dwelling andevenhere we could manage.Imagine the other cities, where there’s so many more Muslims and Hindus living together, imagine the potential there!’
I could not misinterpret the greed in his voice. One thing I knew for sure now—our hunch had been correct. Something wicked was brewing.
‘The Prime Minister in any case has given his assent, when the timing is right,’ Lord Hastings said, ‘It appears to be the best possible course of action in the present circumstances. Civil unrest will help tighten our control over India and provide the perfect justification to ensure the extension of our realm. The War, and the winters that come along with it, will be long, hard and cold. We need supplies and men. We cannot give up the subcontinent, if we don’t want to lose our place in the world.’
‘I couldn’t agree more, Sir,’ added Beeson.
Again, a silence followed, and the Viceroy asked, ‘Proposed time?’
‘I would suggest November. When it starts to get cold, we have an advantage. We are used to fighting in winter,’ said Beeson.
There was a sound of a sheet of paper being spread about on the desk, and I assumed it to be a map. ‘The civil war needs to hit all cities at the same time. In the north, south, east and west. A standing army will be called to monitor the situation. In the moment of crisis, it will be much easier to get the necessary act passed.’
