Page 8 of A Shimla Affair
Noor had reluctantly agreed to let me accompany Charles. I had to keep the desperation out of my voice while asking her, reminding her again and again that refusing a simple tea wouldn’t reflect well on us and our hospitality. She had finally agreed, asking me to make it clear to Charles that I was there only out of politeness.
‘Are you all right?’ Charles asked me with a smile.
I nodded. ‘I always heard guests talk about this place but didn’t realize it is so lovely.’
‘Why haven’t you been here?’
‘I don’t think I’d be allowed here. I think most ordinary Indians are not allowed to be in this part of the Mall.’
It suddenly seemed to dawn on him, the reality of what I had just said, the reality of me. How easy it would be to be someone like him, unaware that the very fact of being here was a privilege! I suddenly felt like leaving. He seemed to guess as much and extended his hand towards my side of the table.
‘I’m sorry! Please, forgive my ignorance. I am glad to be in your company.’
His overtures immediately warmed my heart, and I smiled and nodded.
Despite everything, it felt wonderful to dress up, and be waited on by Charles. He ordered us tea and pastries and I felt lighter again.
‘Sorry I have not said it until now, but you look very beautiful,’ he said, without the slightest hint of shyness, and I looked him in the eye, not buying it.
‘You’re flattering me.’
He seemed scandalized that I should suggest that. ‘No, honestly! Why would I need to lie about the most obvious thing in the world? And what would I gain by lying?’
I laughed, realizing his point. ‘Well, you have hair the colour of mangoes—that’s beautiful, too!’
He scratched his head uncertainly, ‘Well, I can live with that.’
Our tea arrived and I sipped it slowly, telling him it eluded me why somebody would prefer this over Indian chai. He chuckled and said it eluded him why anyone would ruin the taste of proper tea by contaminating it the way we do.
‘How did you come to be in India … Charles?’
‘Same as everybody else here. A very strict father who made sure I got the best education, so I could clear the civil services examinations. Serving in a faraway land meant seeing the world, a dream that would have been inaccessible to me without this job.’
‘And why did you want to serve in a faraway land and not where you are from? I suppose it’s a rather extravagant wish.’
He laughed. ‘Well, I can blame my grandfather for that dream. As a child, I spent a lot of time with him, and he always had his eyes set on the world far and beyond. He could never manage to go far from his village, but he loved reading the tales of travellers and explorers, the histories of trade routes and the building of empires, diaries and letters written on ships sailing across the world.
‘He always said there are three places in the world he wants to see with me: the point where the world ends in the north, the coasts of Ceylon and the ancient city of Rome. He did not have the health for the first two, but just before I came here, I couldtake him to Rome. A few months later, he died, and I was unable to go back for his funeral. So, I vowed to myself that I will never go to Ceylon or the northern end of the world, although that should not be too hard, I suppose.’
‘I am sorry to hear that. I know what it feels like to lose someone you admired.’
‘I suppose you can.’
I smiled. ‘But you are still here. Do you like what you have seen so far?’
‘It has been a privilege … how small my mind would have been if I had only ever stayed where I was born! I have just arrived in Shimla, it’s quite different from Calcutta, which was such a huge, bustling city and it was amazing to see all these people going about their lives, all their worlds so different but still progressing, simultaneously. Seeing the world is perhaps the best way to learn about oneself. It does take its toll, however, … you are always the outcast, never at home. Most of all, I miss my family terribly.’
That made me feel sad for him. I wondered how I would feel if I ever managed to leave for America. I couldn’t imagine living without my two sisters, all alone in a foreign land where no one knew me. But perhaps that was the price of following a dream.
‘How many brothers and sisters?’
‘A younger brother and a sister, the youngest. It would be unfair to have a favourite, but she is just a piece of my heart. Every time I get to go back, which has been only twice since I have been here, she makes a large poster and stands at the train station with my parents and follows me all around. I know I am her favourite, too. She loves those moments when she has all my attention. At least my parents get to be with my siblings, although I can’t imagine how my grandmother will get over the betrayal of me living in India.’
I smiled as I imagined him as a doting older brother.
‘And how about you?’ he asked.
‘Well, our father spent his last years fighting the British in every possible way one could imagine. He wrote letters, manoeuvred deals, went to court for other Indians who were fighting the fight, was arrested and also spent the last two years of his life in house arrest in Bombay. Sometimes I think he even forgot about my sisters and I and spent his life for just this one and only purpose: to get India its freedom. Five years ago, the boat he was on sank and well … that was the end of it. Since then, my two sisters are the only family I have had. They mean everything to me.’
