Fire On the Mountain (18 page)

Authors: Anita Desai

She relaxed. She walked on, disturbing a silver-dusted moth on a fuchsia that swung free and fluttered away. Let Ram Lal answer the phone, let others answer such demands, such intrusions. She wanted only to be alone in the garden in the dark.

But Ram Lal came out onto the veranda and replaced the shrill peremptoriness of the âphone by his deep voice calling âMemsahib,'phone for you.'

She gave her ringed fingers a little twist of irritation. Could she not be left alone? After this dreadful, tangled afternoon with Ila Das screaming and braying into her ear by the hour, could she not be given a quiet hour in which to recover, to take in the pine-tinged evening air and recover?

She swept up the flagstones of the path like an aroused snake, mounted the veranda steps and went up to the table where the telephone lay, in two divided halves, black, beside the open window from which the sky looked in, pale and muted. Sitting down on the little stool, she picked up the receiver and said âYes?'

âThis is P. K. Shukla, madam, police officer in charge, Garkhal
thana
,' said a brisk, quick voice that brushed aside her sighs, her innuendoes. âYou know Miss Ila Das, welfare officer of the Garkhal division?'

âYes,' frowned Nanda Kaul, lifting one hand to her temple. âYes?'

âYour name and telephone number were found on a piece of paper in her bag. Kindly come to the police station at the earliest to identify her body.'

Nanda Kaul's head twisted back, back. She lowered her hand from her temple to her throat and clutched it. âIla?' she murmured. âIla Das?'

âYes, madam,' the sure voice repeated, slightly impatient of her histrionics. âHer body was found on the path to the village Timarpur. She was found by the villagers. She has been strangled. The doctor is here. He claims she has been
raped. She is dead. Kindly come to the police station at the earliest to identifyÂ .Â .Â .'

But Nanda Kaul had ceased to listen. She had dropped the telephone. With her head still thrown back, far back, she gasped: No, no, it is a lie! No, it cannot be. It was a lie â Ila was not raped, not dead. It was all a lie, all. She had lied to Raka, lied about everything. Her father had never been to Tibet â he had bought the little Buddha from a travelling pedlar. They had not had bears and leopards in their home, nothing but overfed dogs and bad-tempered parrots. Nor had her husband loved and cherished her and kept her like a queen â he had only done enough to keep her quiet while he carried on a lifelong affair with Miss David, the mathematics mistress, whom he had not married because she was a Christian but whom he had loved, all his life loved. And her children â the children were all alien to her nature. She neither understood nor loved them. She did not live here alone by choice â she lived here alone because that was what she was forced to do, reduced to doing. All those graces and glories with which she had tried to captivate Raka were only a fabrication: they helped her to sleep at night, they were tranquillizers, pills. She had lied to Raka. And Ila had lied, too. Ila, too, had lied, had tried. No, she wanted to tell the man on the phone. No, she wanted to cry, but could not make a sound. Instead, it choked and swelled inside her throat. She twisted her head, then hung it down, down, let it hang.

There was a scratching at the window that turned to a tapping, then a drumming. âNani, Nani,' whispered Raka, shivering and crouching in the lily bed, peeping over the sill. âLook, Nani, I have set the forest on fire. Look, Nani â look â the forest is on fire.' Tapping, then drumming, she raised her voice, then raised her head to look in and saw Nanda Kaul on the stool with her head hanging, the black telephone hanging, the long wire dangling.

Down in the ravine, the flames spat and crackled around the dry wood and through the dry grass, and black smoke spiralled up over the mountain.

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Epub ISBN: 9781409040897

Version 1.0

www.randomhouse.co.uk

Published by Vintage 1999

10 9

First published in Great Britain by William Heinemann Ltd 1977

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