Page 62 of A Shimla Affair
‘Khushilalji, leave,’ I said, mustering my strict voice.
‘No, Sahiba,’ he said, ‘I had told you before and I am saying it again. I will stay here.’
‘No, we cannot allow that!’
‘You’re putting yourself in grave danger, you crazy old man!’ Afreen burst out. ‘Leave, now!’
He stood as immobile as before.
‘Khushilalji!’ Afreen yelled again, ‘I am warning you, leave this instant—’
‘I have worked for your father ever since he was your age. He took care of me, now it’s my time to stand in his fight.’
‘Be it on your head,’ Afreen said, and we barred the servant’s entrance, carefully lining it up with explosives.
We hurried back to the ballroom and saw that Ratan Babu had ordered the hostages to spread out against the floor. Guruji was given a special spot in the corner, where he and Wagner had been tied to chairs for being especially difficult. The gag covered most of Wagner’s face and I was glad for it, it made him look less menacing.
Ratan Babu looked at us and then went to take out Guruji’s gag. Guruji spat on Ratan Babu’s feet, looking at him, and then at all of us, with murderous eyes.
‘Traitors! All of you! Traitors! Who do you think you are? You know nothing! Everything you learnt from me and now you dare to treat me like this, betraying Hindustan! Traitors!’
Blood rushed to my face, I wanted to go and punch his face now that he couldn’t defend himself. Ratan Babu felt the same apparently, for he went up to Guruji and kicked him with force. Guruji winced for a few moments before changing strategy, trying to make us see sense.
‘Look, the Bhagat Fauj is ready to be mobilized, in Delhi, Bombay, Lahore … All we have to do is get the Viceroy’s body and India will finally know freedom—’
‘Stop lying to us,’ Ratan Babu said calmly, and it seemed to infuriate him again.
‘These are not lies, boy, these are cold, hard truths! The Bhagat Fauj awaits, and your betrayal could cost us our freedom. What do you want to do anyway? Are you going to betray us to the Muslims? Did they pay you and brainwash your idiotic head?’
‘It’s good you brought up the subject of betrayal, Guruji,’ Ratan Babu said.
‘What do you mean?’
I carefully watched Guruji as Ratan Babu revealed it all.
‘Sood. Did you really not know? He has been cheating you—cheating all of us—the entire time.’
Guruji’s eyes went wide with pure confusion. He glanced at each of us to see if we were playing an elaborate prank on him. I almost felt bad for him at this moment, stripped as he was of all his magnetism, no more the saviour of our great land. Just plain flesh and blood and hair, like any of us, trying to do what he could.
‘That’s outrageous … absolute nonsense,’ Guruji replied, shaking his head.
Ratan Babu walked over to Beeson and pulled the man up.
‘Sood has been betraying you, and all of us, to this man! He knew everything about the Shimla Circle’s plans, everything about today, about the Bhagat Fauj! You think he is waiting for you outside? No, Guruji, Sood is long gone and safely hidden, waiting to be honoured and awarded by the British.’
‘That makes no sense,’ Guruji said, ‘Why would the British plan their own downfall? You are mistaken, son—’
Ratan Babu dragged Beeson over in front of Guruji and the look in Beeson’s eyes confirmed it all. There was a piercing silence, and Ratan Babu, too overcome now, pushed Beeson onto the floor and walked away.
Noor stepped in. ‘Sood was Beeson’s man. Beeson had dreams of destabilizing the Viceroy. Just as the Bhagat Fauj is ready, so is the Raj’s army, Guruji. The fight you had set up could never be won. There could be no revolution at all, because Beeson planned to allow the Viceroy’s death, let the situation get slightly out of hand before calling upon order, and taking the throne for himself by preventing a mutiny-like situation. In return, Sood would be rewarded, perhaps even more handsomely than whatever he envisioned with you. Your revolution was doomed from the beginning. We pity you, but only within limits. For you are not without your faults here, are you?’
‘Khushilalji,’ Noor ordered.
He walked to Guruji and sat on the ground to be on the same eye level. From within his pockets, he withdrew the photograph of Guruji and our father, now a bit crumpled. Khushilalji held the photograph in front of Guruji’s face, refusing to move it or say anything.
‘Look at it!’ Noor yelled in anguish. ‘Look at your friend!’
Guruji had nothing to answer so Afreen went forward. ‘But he was not your friend … what do you think, Khushilalji?’
