Page 5 of A Shimla Affair
‘And those stairs on the other side?’
‘Those lead to some of the servant’s quarters. The rest are in the outhouse. On the other side are the bunkers,’ I said.
‘There are bunkers?’
‘The Englishman who originally built the hotel was always very scared that the natives would gather and turn against him, bringing about his gory death. He wanted to secure the place from any possible conflicts with the sepoys so he built the bunkers. They are of no use today but I think they might even be connected to some tunnels.’
‘Really?’
‘I heard he was very paranoid after the sepoy mutiny in 1857 …’
In the dim light of the tunnels, I could see him staring at me curiously.
I felt the need to explain more. ‘Several of our guests often gather to smoke opium in the bunkers; it is somewhat of a secret place for very special people. We have very good quality opium because of our father’s business, and our guests made it ahabit of meeting here, smoking opium and swapping stories.’ My sisters would not appreciate me openly telling an English officer this secret, but I somehow felt that I could trust him.
‘Have you always lived here? Or rather, how do three Indian women end up running a hotel in Shimla? As I understand, it is not common here for lone women to inherit establishments such as these … neither in my part of the world, to be honest.’
‘It was our father who owned the hotel,’ my voice echoed back to me in the dimness and emptiness of the tunnels. ‘I’m not sure if you have heard this story, but he was not a favourite of the government. He spoke his mind freely and was arrested often; got embroiled in legal notices. When he died, all that he owned was taken over. Luckily, this hotel was spared and we were allowed to remain here.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ he said in a quiet voice, before going down the stairs to take a quick look at the bunkers, which were dark and bare. I followed him cautiously, careful to maintain an appropriate distance between us. I hoped Noor would not notice that I took him down here on my own.
We came back up and went out to the front gardens. Now that it had finally stopped raining, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. The gardens were freshly manicured and the grass appeared fresh and springy.
I caught his thoughts. ‘The whole garden will soon be bursting with flowers—musk roses, geraniums, fuchsia and lilies everywhere, even the purple ones …’
‘Oh, that sounds wonderful!’
‘My favourite is the daisy,’ I told him, unsolicited.
‘Really, but why? It’s the most common flower out there, I think I even saw some on the way here.’
‘That’s precisely why! It doesn’t have any airs, it can grow anywhere, in the forest or by the pavement, behind the bushes or along the river.’
‘Yes, but it’s really not that special then, it’s just a common daisy.’
‘Mr Nayler, that’s why it’s so nice!’ He looked taken aback by his name being called out, and I wondered for a second whether I had been too familiar. He smiled.
‘So, you don’t like roses?’ he asked.
‘Well, aren’t they so much more work? They have to be grafted and taken care of. But daisies can be planted anywhere, and they will thrive. Just like a good actor who can be given any role and embody it with their soul.’
He laughed again. I liked the sound. I wanted to make him laugh more.
‘You like the movies?’ he asked me.
‘Ilovethe movies. I want to be an actress one day,’ I said, again surprised by my inability to stop talking, Iwantedhim to know me.
He was about to say something when I suddenly noticed what was happening at the edge of the garden. Khushilalji was trying to chase away a couple of monkeys with his stick, but one of them attempted to escape and head towards the hotel.
‘Oh no!’ I yelled and lifted the bottom of my sari to prevent it from getting wet on the damp grass and ran towards the monkey. Stamping my feet hard on the ground, I attempted to shoo him away. The monkey paused to make a show of sitting and watching me get mad. I stamped my foot yet again but the monkey refused to budge, clutching the apple he had picked up from under a tree.
‘Khushilalji! Give me your stick if you are done with those other two!’ He rolled the stick over to me with momentum and I picked it up, brandishing it in the direction of the monkey, which made him stand up in attention.
‘You little idiot, this is the third time this week that you are annoying me!’ The monkey finally took the hint and decidedto get up and leave with some pride. But not before he looked back one more time, took aim at me and threw the apple with conviction. I wasn’t surprised though and dodged it, now running after him, my sari held up on one side. I chased him across the garden, right until he reached the lemon tree and climbed up swiftly, hopping across the wall to jeer at me from the safety of that perch. Giving him one last derisive stare, I walked back to Charles, who stood with his mouth open.
‘I guess welcome to Royal Hotel Shimla? But don’t worry, there won’t be any monkeys on the evening of the ball. Right Khushilalji?’ I asked as our custodian came by.
‘None, Nalini Sahiba,’ he said, bowing. He had an old, wrinkled face and a white moustache that he attempted to keep neat, but his failing eyesight foiled these attempts.
