Page 9 of A Shimla Affair
‘I am sorry you lost so much,’ he said.
I waved my hand, ignoring the sudden twist somewhere in the pit of my stomach. ‘Everyone told me things are preordained, so nothing can be done about it. But I know, at least, that every new moment holds the promise of a lifetime, and that is how one must live.’
He smiled at that and a silence took over as we both contemplated our lives. I looked around the establishment. People were now dancing around the ballroom, slowly moving to the soulful waltz.
‘Would you like to dance, too?’ he asked.
The idea didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want to stick out more than I already did, and I didn’t want anyone to come and tell us that it was inappropriate for me to dance here.
‘No, I can’t,’ I said immediately.
His face fell and I realized he took it as a rejection, which was far from the truth. I didn’t know how to explain my situation to him—how to make him understand my hesitation.
I smiled instead and asked, ‘Shall I show you around town?’
He brightened up and immediately said yes, quickly paying for the high tea. I thanked him and we stepped out to walk through the Mall. Beside us were a mixture of English men and womendressed in frilly gowns and suits, trailed by their Indian servants with their neat, black moustaches and clerical attires. Boys out for a break from Bishop Convent School, and young girls on the arms of their mothers, out on a day of shopping.
Looking around Station Ward, I turned to Charles, ‘So, you want to see the other side of Shimla? I don’t know how much you have seen …’
‘You mean the Lower Bazaar?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
He nodded in curiosity, so I took him down the Mall, descending into the Lower Bazaar. It could have been a different town. Houses with thatched roofs sat one on top of the other, threatening to topple over. There seemed to be a hundred tiny shops, arranged haphazardly, superseding their boundaries and spilling over on to the main street. Clothes hung on washing lines and wooden boxes lay strewn about, their contents already pulled out and checked against the weighing scale. Gunny bags filled with vegetables, fruits and earthenware were spread out on the ground ready for sale. Ayahs, with their heads wrapped in cotton scarves, hurried about with importance, purchasing what had been instructed by the families. People sat outside their homes, soaking in the sun. Men huddled over a fire to grab the warmth.
A group of little children surrounded us, begging for food, and when Charles smiled, they attempted to shake hands and then ran away, laughing.
‘I love being here,’ I said, looking around, ‘I love the mountain fresh air, the way everyone knows me at the hotel and in this community and I can greet them easily. I love the people here who are nice and kind. It’s the most amazing and perfect place. Yet—’
He looked at me curiously. ‘Yet what?’
I found myself short of words, but I felt it at the base of my heart, at the pit of my stomach, that there was a restlessness fluttering inside me, and for some reason, I wanted to tell him. Somehow, I had the feeling that there was something out there, waiting for me, and once I could reach that, my uneasiness would quell. My thoughts inadvertently moved onto movies that seemed to beckon me.
‘I don’t know. Maybe life should be like the movies, full of excitement and adventure.’
He laughed, ‘So, do you watch a lot of movies here?’
I laughed. ‘I manage a few. And you, Mr Nayler?’
‘Charles! I like to watch them as well. The last one was …The Wizard of Oz?’
I clapped my hands in delight. ‘My favourite! If only I could be Dorothy and the hotel could take me far away with the wind.’
‘She is my favourite movie character, too!’ Charles said. ‘To be honest, I am a little obsessed with Dorothy in the movie.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Everything about her, the journey she makes, her slippers and the Scarecrow and the Tin Man. But don’t tell anyone …’
Still laughing, I led him back up to the Mall. We walked around a bit more before sitting down on a street-side bench.
‘And this is Scandal Point,’ I said, as we settled in for a sweeping view of the town centre and the mountains beyond.
He looked around curiously. ‘What’s so scandalous about it?’
I giggled. ‘It’s an old story. Many years ago, the Maharaja of Patiala fell in love with the Viceroy’s daughter and took her away from this very point. The Viceroy was ready to declare war for his daughter to be returned.’
‘Really?’
