Page 65 of A Shimla Affair
‘Our third and final demand Lord Commander, and you must listen carefully, for it is the most important one. The Viceroy must issue a public apology to all of India, to all of Britain’s subjects, to all they rule over. For all the countless who have died, in the famines and the droughts, the brutalities and the wars, to all those who died in Jallianwala Bagh that day. Without the apology, there will be no freedom for him, no matter what. The apology must be heartfelt and so requires a certain degreeof introspection. Fortunately, the Viceroy will have enough time to reflect while you arrange the other two things. And this, Lord Commander, is integrity.’
When we finished, we were a vision. There was deadly silence, even from the outside. The three of us turned around to face our doing. All the hostages, the Viceroy in the centre, were on the floor, their faces reflecting shock. We stood around them, looking every bit the terror we threatened to project.
More minutes passed by in silence, and what seemed like an endless wait began. A wait towards a win or a loss. There were only two ways to go about it really: either they find a way to break in, detain and hang us to death; or the night would go according to how we imagined it. Hope and optimism took over our head and hearts, so we dared to think, what happens when you dare to break free?
I felt scared but confident. I felt taller. I walked with my gun around the hostages, now sure of my right to it, of my power over it. The others too did the same, and I was sure that the thought kept making the rounds in everyone’s mind: how would the night pan out? When the world wakes up tomorrow, how would it look? What would they see?
I felt a sudden movement behind me, but it was already too late. Swift and quiet as the breeze before a storm, Charles’ voice, the voice that sounded of love and a future worth living, of sunshine and laughter, said the words, ‘Drop your gun. Now.’
Noor, Afreen, Ratan Babu and Khushilalji all turned and pointed their guns in our direction, where Charles stood so close behind me, the tip of his gun caressing the back of my neck. He must have found one of ours. They took a few steps closer to us, yelling at Charles, telling him he was outnumbered buthe seemed to not hear them, all his focus on me. I could smell Charles from where I stood in front of him. He smelt of flowers and sweat, of the eau de cologne he must have put on before the ball, and the gunpowder in the air that pervaded us. He smelt of love and shock and betrayal, and he carried it all with a fierceness and anger that rendered me speechless.
‘Drop your weapon, Nalini,’ he whispered to me. His voice was low and threatening, but I knew there would be no arguing with it. He would go all the way or die. In the chaos, Afreen had remembered to free Lady Sinclair, but hadn’t thought of Charles.
I dropped my gun, and it fell on the floor with a clatter. The hostages’ eyes followed us attentively, and so did my sisters’, who loomed closer to us. Ratan Babu took quick steps forward, and Charles swiftly put his arm around my waist and pulled me in a quick movement, wrenching me backwards to him. Now the tip of his gun scraped against my right temple, and the action made the others stand back. Charles pressed the gun harder into the side of my head.
‘Don’t move,’ Charles roared, ‘Or I will kill her.’
I never claimed to know much about love but—even in that moment, when he held me with hate and anger, when I realized with a disappointment that he might never understand the fire that drove me—even in that moment, my heart wept hopelessly for his affection. It begged for the chance to be adored and admired, to cherish and love in return, and to—by some twist of fate—have a life with him. It was the intensity of my own heart that distressed me more than anything else, that still ached for and believed in him.
The others stopped, frozen where they stood.
‘Let her go, Mr Nayler,’ Noor called out, and her voice beckoned me away from him, towards family and loyalty and the roots from which I had emerged. ‘We are four and you are onyour own. Let her go and we promise nothing will happen to you, or the others.’
He laughed, and his chest reverberated with the sound of his laughter. But it wasn’t because he found what she said to be funny or ridiculous—it was the laughter of pain. The pain you embrace when you start to believe that there is nothing else you have to lose.
‘You misunderstand me grievously if you think I am worried about my own life here. And I understand you perfectly when I think that you would not want—you would not let—anything happen to Nalini. I know you are four and I am one. But if I die, so will she. Drop your weapons, or she dies.’
Did I really believe in that moment that he meant every word he said, that he really would kill me? Charles was no more a traitor than I, he would never desert his post, even if it meant giving up what his heart desired, even if it tore his heart apart to do so. And my pathetic little self loved him all the more for it.
Noor put her hands up in the air, and then slowly bent forwards and downwards, dropping her own gun. She looked at the others meaningfully, asking them to follow suit. I writhed under Charles’ grip, not wanting to be the cause of our downfall, of our cursed, failed operation. Charles was brave and insistent, not just because he wanted to do his duty, which I knew he wanted to justify with all his soul, but also because he was angry. Khushilalji dropped his gun, and then so did Ratan Babu, slowly placing his machine gun down with the highest of care.
Afreen still clutched hers, and I knew she didn’t heed Charles’ warning. She didn’t believe it when he thrust the nozzle at my head. She didn’t believe his motivation, which unbeknownst to her, was as much driven by love as betrayal. He had taken our attack on the Viceroy and the others as an affront to his abilities, and he would die defending it. But Afreen didn’t see it. Despite her reservations about him, she believed that he loved me morethan he cared to defend his country. Or at least loved me enough to avoid risking most of us dying in rage and gunfire.
‘Afreen, put down your gun,’ Noor ordered, her voice betraying panic.
Charles now pointed his gun at Afreen. ‘Listen to your sister, Afreen.’
The moment terrified me more than anything else so far—a running temper is the most dangerous thing in a game of patience and strategy.
‘No. Do you know why we are here, Mr Nayler, why we are doing this?’
‘Give up your arms, Miss Mistry, or I promise you will live to regret the day you ever thought—’
‘You, all you people, you are just the same! All you care about is yourselves—’
‘Afreen, put the gun down—’
Charles gripped me harder, before pushing me aside on the floor and moving towards Afreen with an intensity that made me shiver.
He was two steps away from her, holding his gun with both his hands, aiming above her.
My fallen gun now lay forgotten behind Charles, and I silently crawled towards it. But the cold hard steel felt useless. I could not shoot Charles, as much as he’d like to believe me capable of it, and he would clearly not be threatened by it. There was only one option, the last resort I had left.
Getting up, I stood between Charles and Afreen, so that his gun again touched me, shielding Afreen. I looked into Charles’ eyes, so full of rage and anger, deep oceans of blue bubbling with broken faith.
I moved further towards him and the world disappeared until it was only me and him. His eyebrows furrowed and he now pointed the gun at the centre of my forehead.
‘You think I won’t shoot you? Didn’t I tell you, I thought you understood me—really, I thought you did—that I will always do the right thing?’ he asked with loathing.
