Ravi the Unknown Prince (16 page)

Alam got out and opened my door and then uncle introduced me to chauffeur Najib, he smiled as he shook my hand and said, “Welcome sir to Manaos Kingdom”

I thought for a moment that I was in a foreign country but I was in the same country but thousands of miles away from the West Coast where I grew up.

Uncle held my upper arm and we both walked to the parked rover. I was beginning to think that he was not in the best of health and he looked jaundice close up.

I was not going to ask him any questions until he told me himself and his reasons for tracking me down.

He told me that he would sit with me at the back. When Najib opened the door I let him get in first and then I got in besides him.

Alam and the driver were unloading the plane and putting the bags into the boot of the Rover.

While we were waiting for them to finish uncle told me that the house up ahead was where he lived.

“How many years have you lived there uncle?” I asked.

“Too long,” he answered, “My wife died ten years ago. She was a good woman and I miss her a lot,” he remarked.

I could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke about her. He told me that she was too old to have children so they adopted two boys which made her happy.

“You have met one, he said, “and the other one lives and works in Canada.

After she passed away a year later I started looking for you, my blood relation.”

By then the men had finished the loading and we were ready to leave, Alam sat in front with the chauffeur and they were talking about county cricket matches.

I
n fifteen minutes we arrived outside this large white mansion which had “SUNSET PALACE” written in golden letters.

A man opened the wooden front door and stood back; he greeted uncle and me as we walked in, and we return his greetings.

I thought first impression counts and if I was destined to live here one day I should show these people some respect even if I became the next master.

Five women and two men stood in a line. I thought that I had just entered into a stately home in England that I had once seen on TV.

The five women and two men were saying “Welcome home, Master,” then uncle introduced me to his staff.

The two men were gardeners, and the one man that opened the door took care of uncle and served the male visitors.

I shook hands with the men and told them that I was pleased to meet them.

Then the women introduced themselves; there were two cooks and two cleaners and one house-keeper.

They were all middle-aged East Indian people, and then the house-keeper asked uncle whether I was married and had children or was still single.

Uncle laughed, and told her that I was married and that he had met one of my two sons and that he was a chess player.

The interior of the mansion with its lofty ceilings and intricate design was immaculate and well maintained.

Uncle took me around each room on the ground floor; there were paintings hanging on the walls in each room we went into, all done by his late wife Shereen.

Some rooms had forests, with snow capped mountains, while others had hills and valleys, beaches and waterfalls.

We went into a large open-planned sitting area facing south which had two sets of brown and gold sofas, a set of rocking chairs and foot stools with fragrant potted plants and a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

He told me that room was his and his wife’s favourite place to relax. They would sit together and look out into the wide open space and at the lake at the far end of the garden.

Then he took me into the dining area where there was a large long dining table with carved legs and matching chairs with padded seats.

We entered next into a games room for men and boys with train sets, skittles, a table tennis table and a dart-board on the wall.

The fourth was his prayer room with religious books in a cabinet and prayer mats on the floor with some spares folded and placed in one corner of the room.

Adjoining to that room was where he performed his ablutions before praying.

The four taps on the wall was stainless steel and there were seats to sit down on while performing ablutions, hot and cold running water and clean towels were readily available.

The fifth and sixth rooms were used for his office and office staff; he had an accountant, a secretary, and two other office workers. The office was left neat and tidy but no one was there.

Uncle told me that he would let me meet his office workers at a later date as he wanted to keep them in suspense for the time being.

A long corridor ran in the middle which divided the mansion into two sections, the other half was for the women with the same amount of rooms.

There was a nursery for the younger children and a keep-fit room for the women.

There were two sets of shower rooms and toilet facilities on both the male and female sections.

Further at the back was a large kitchen area with a wood burning oven to bake bread and cakes.

Water was extracted from a well underground about half a mile away and was piped into the mansion.

After I had seen the ground floor of this magnificent building uncle took me back to the male section and on to the veranda over looking the village.

There were two sets of rocking chairs with padded seats and foot stools.

As we sat down he told me that he went to Canada to take his son Nazir, another adopted orphan; to study medicine and he brought back this design for his house and had a few extra rooms added to it.

He thought that his son would return home once he was qualified but he decided to live and work out there.

He qualified as a doctor and he married to a Pakistani woman and they had three children.

“This place is fit for a Prince, don’t you think so,” he remarked.

I did not want to make any comments so I replied, “Yes, uncle.”

Tea was brought in with freshly baked cakes and the gentleman Habib served us and left.

While we were drinking our cup of red rose brand tea uncle Hanif told me that we were the direct descendant of Princess Razia.

“You are a Prince my son, he said and so am I, but we are unknown to the outside world. Sometimes it is better that way.”

“I was told that her name was Sita,” I said to uncle Hanif.

“Grand-dad gave her that name when he married her, in those days Hindus and Muslims did not inter-marry it was a taboo.

She never practiced Hinduism or bow down in front of an idol, she prayed silently in her tiny room.”

“My parents worshipped many gods,” I remarked.

“Your father Arjuna followed our father and he followed his father who was from the Brahman Caste.”

“What was her reason for coming here? I questioned, and have you any idea why she left India a life of luxury for a life of misery.”

“We were told that she escaped after her husband, the Maharaja [king] was defeated in a battle.

He was killed with her son, Prince Jalal and they were about to lose their Kingdom, the wives of the king and his children would be taken as prisoners of war by the next ruler.

She managed to escape as a civilian; she swapped her clothes with her maid and then they went to Calcutta.

She and the maid embarked on a ship that was taking people to other parts of the world.

On the long voyage across many oceans her maid died, she told her daughter Shuli my aunt that when Kamla died she wanted to die also.

Kamla was not only her maid she was her adviser and confidant, the king had many wives and they all competed for his attention.

“How does the king remember the names of all his wives and children?” I questioned inquisitively.

Uncle Hanif laughed,”He gave each woman a number and the children were known to him by their mother’s number.”

“Have you any idea how many wives the king had?” I enquired.

Shuli said, that her mother told her that there were fifteen wives and hundreds of concubines.

If she had not escaped she would have ended up as a concubine for the next ruler or one of his men.

She was happy with grand-dad even though they lived in a logy; she knew that every day after work he was coming home to her.

She was a very beautiful woman from Iranian and Afghanistan descent.

“She said that she was one of the king’s favourite wives whenever the king would have a song and dance party with women dressed in scanty clothing.

He would invite her and put her to sit on his right and the other wives would sit behind.

When she heard that he and her son were killed she knew that the men would be looking for her.

She wore an old sari and hurried out through the gates during the chaos before the soldiers entered the palace and took the women and children as captives.

She told her children that she never regretted leaving her place in the palace, she felt free like a bird when she escaped.

Although life was hard and she and grand-dad struggled she was happy and felt contented.”

“Have you ever met her in person uncle?” I asked.

“I was between six or seven years old when she became very ill and my dad took me and your father, Arjuna who was four year old, to see her.

She had green eyes and the colour of her hair was similar to your son Husain but had gone white. She remained beautiful to the end.

I am now seventy eight years old, Hasan, he said, and I am not in the best of health.

I only have a few more years to live and that was the reason I was searching for you, my own flesh and blood, to inherit all of this.”

“What is wrong with you uncle?” I questioned.

“I have a brain tumour and it is too dangerous to operate on it. For the past five years every six months I went to Canada for treatment, but there is no hope now,” he remarked sadly.

I felt sad and picked up his hand and held it in mine and said,”I am so sorry to hear such bad news and we only just met.”

Alam walked in and sat down holding a cup of tea in his hand and spoke as he looked at me with tears in my eyes.

“Dad told you of his illness, cousin Hasan?” he asked.

I could not speak so I nodded my head in response and then I said, “He has, cousin.”

Alam told us that he was going home and that he would see us in the evening and bring the girls to meet me.

He got up and gave uncle a hug and I stood up and hugged him. He waved to us as he drove through the black wrought iron gates.

I asked uncle what girls were cousin Alam talking about. He told me his two wives, not his children and that he called them his girls.

He also told me that Alam was a good man and when I took his place here I should hold on to him like my own.

He had his own business on the mainland which he bought for him and that he now owned two restaurants.

One of his wives owns a bakery and the other one is a nurse in the local hospital.

He has six children, four with one woman and two with the other, three boys and three girls beautiful children and they all call him grand-dad.

That plane he said belongs to him, but Alam took care of it and takes him around and if he needs it he uses it.

“Tell me about your son in Canada?” I asked.

He said that his name was Nazir and that his parents died in a flood one rainy night when the river burst its bank and swept away their house.

The house landed next to a tree and inside it was a three year old child crying. Some fisher-men heard him and brought him out.

When his wife Shereen heard that news she went to the police station on the mainland and asked if she could take the child and care for him.

No relatives came forward so they handed him over to her. He was very intelligent and always top in his class.

When he grew up he told them that he would like to become a doctor and to help people.

He sent him to study in Canada so that they could visit him regularly and he could come home from a flight from Ottawa in five hours.

Then he met Nasreen a Pakistani girl at the same university, she was doing business studies.

They wanted to get married after he qualified, but her parents took her away to Pakistan to get married to her cousin.

Nazir came home devastated he went off and stayed with the work men in the ranch.

He lost his parents when he was a child and now the woman he was looking forward to settle down with was taken away from him.

He had no words of comfort to say to him and his wife was also feeling Nazir’s pain.

He and his wife both met Nasreen a few times he said, and that she was a lovely girl and had her heart set on Nazir.

She ran away before her wedding in Pakistan and came to Barbados where she knew a business man and his Indian wife.

One night he had a telephone call from a woman asking to speak to Nazir. She would not tell him who she was although he told her that he was Nazir’s father.

She wanted to speak to him in person and he told her that Nazir was not at home and that he would have to send for him, and that she must ring back in the evening.