Authors: Sangeeta Bhargava
‘But that’s what Papa sa—’
‘You know what?’ Salim swung around to face her again. ‘You and your papa are the same. He has categorised me by the colour of my skin. For him, all those who have brown skin are the same, whether he’s a king or a sweeper.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘And now you’ve done the same. You’ve heard from somewhere that nawabs are sleazy and have concluded that I’m no different.’ He held her arms in a vice-like grip. ‘Have you ever seen me with another woman? Have you ever heard me going to a tawaif? I don’t drink – well, not that much anyway. And yet …’
Rachael tried to loosen his grip on her arms and said softly, ‘You do have the hookah, you know.’
Salim smiled slightly. ‘Yes, well. I’m not exactly a saint either.’
They both stole a glance at each other and smiled softly.
‘You look much nicer in Hindustani attire than in those tents of yours,’ he said over his shoulder as he left the room.
Chapter Eighteen
R
ACHAEL
Rachael turned red with embarrassment as the two maids Salma and Saira helped her undress. She had never undressed in front of anyone other than Ayah and Sudha before. But then Ayah had seen her since she was born and Sudha was just a couple of years older than her. Besides, she was more like a sister.
But as the cool scented water of the hammam engulfed her, she began to relax. She had often wondered what life in the nawab’s palace was like, how different the lives of the begums were from that of her own. Most of the English girls she knew in Lucknow whiled away their hours reading books and poetry, writing long letters back home, taking siestas in the afternoons and getting ready for dinner or a ball in the evening. The women in the palace did much the same, albeit a bit differently. ‘Decking up’ for them meant taking long luxurious baths, letting the maids rub perfumed oils into their bodies, applying henna.
She found it hard to believe sometimes – true, she had often dreamt of living in one of these palaces, but she had never imagined her wish would one day come true … and certainly not in this manner. It was strange, unbelievable. And this easy friendship she shared with Salim – they had so little in common, and yet … She blushed again as she remembered the look on his face when he saw her in Indian dress. So he had sent Papa a marriage proposal. He had wanted to marry her. She should have known better than to believe Papa’s words. He always did have a tendency to exaggeration.
She sighed as she thought of Salim’s burnt arm. It had been burnt saving her life. Rachael smiled. He had ridden through the night, through the riots to save her.
Her
. Only her. She dared not believe she held a special place in his heart. And yet, she wanted to believe it was so. He would not have done that for just anybody, would he?
The maids began to giggle as they patted her dry. Rachael blushed deeply as Salma ran her fingers over her arm and exclaimed, ‘It’s so smooth, like silk.’ Saira pointed to her feet and exclaimed, ‘Look at her feet. So dainty, so delicate, like doll made of china.’
Snatching the towels from them, Rachael said curtly, ‘I can manage. Go get my clothes.’ She grimaced as they ran away laughing. She missed Sudha. She understood her wants even without saying. She was so mature, not like these juveniles who did not understand her half the time. She wondered how Sudha was. How her cruel relatives were treating her. She worried about her parents. She wondered how they were, where they were. Nobody knew. Even Salim was of no help. Whenever she asked him, she got the same curt reply. ‘I don’t know. I’ll tell you as soon as I hear something.’
It was strange. The city was gripped in a revolution and yet in the palace, behind the high walls surrounding it, life carried on as normal. It felt unreal. Like a dream. Except the occasional sound of a gun being fired in the distance.
Crunching up her nose, Rachael looked at the jewellery laid out before her. Having helped her dress, the maids were now insisting she wear some. She chose a dainty pearl necklace with earrings that looked like teardrops. Salma and Saira were disappointed. They wanted her to wear a gold necklace with some gems on it.
As Saira secured the necklace around her nape, she said, ‘Memsahib, if I tell you what I know, you will jump for joy.’
Rachael turned around and looked at her. ‘What is it?’
Salma nudged Saira with her elbow and hissed, ‘Daima said not to tell anyone.’
Rachael’s brow furrowed. ‘Why? Pray tell me, what is it?’
Saira lowered her head and said nothing. Salma came forward with an earring.
Brushing her hand aside, Rachael looked at Saira. ‘Look, don’t be afraid. You can tell me. Or else …’ She stood and looked sternly at the two maids. ‘I shall have to complain to Chote Nabob.’
Saira clasped her hands. ‘No, memsahib, don’t say anything to Chote Nawab. We will be sacked. Chote Nawab want to give you the good news himself, that’s why Daima say no tell.’
‘What good news?’ Rachael asked.
‘That your parents are found. They be in Residency and alive.’
‘Really?’ Rachael exclaimed, her heartbeat quickening, unable to believe what she had just heard. ‘Is it true?’
‘Yes, memsahib,’ Salma replied quietly. ‘But please no tell Daima or Chote Nawab, they dismiss us.’
‘Of course I won’t tell them.’ She took Saira’s hands, which were visibly shaking, in hers. ‘You’ve nothing to fear. Thank you so much. You’ve made me very happy today.’
Saira and Salma exchanged looks and gave a sigh of relief as they continued to help Rachael finish her toilette.
Rachael looked out of the lattice window of her room in Kaiserbagh Palace for the umpteenth time that day. The windows of the zenana did not provide a view beyond the palace gardens. She paced the room restlessly. She had hitherto never stayed cooped up indoors for so long.
It had been two long weeks since Salim had brought her here. She wondered what he did all day. She was living here in his home and yet she saw so little of him. Ever since she had learnt from Saira and Salma about her parents’ whereabouts last week, she had asked them when Salim would be back. They had no clue. Either that, or they’d been ordered not to tell her. She pursed her lips. Surely there was something she could do.
And then she grinned. She knew what to do. She would sneak off to the stables and go riding. Not far. Just a few laps around the palace. Surely that couldn’t harm anyone.
She smiled and bowed her head slightly as the female guard stationed at her doorway raised her right hand to her forehead and bowed low at the same time. Screwing up her nose, she covered it with the ends of her hijaab as a strong dank smell emanated from the stables. She looked around surreptitiously and was about to go in when she heard the sound of horse’s hoofs. Frightened, she turned around slowly to see who it was. It was Salim. He stared at her sombrely.
He did not take his eyes off her as he sprang down from the horse. After what seemed like a hundred years, he turned his gaze to the stable boy and gestured to him to take Afreen away. Rachael squared her shoulders as he turned back to her.
‘Where do you think you were going?’ His voice was quiet and smooth.
Bracing herself, Rachael looked at him defiantly. ‘I know where my parents are. I want to be with them.’
‘Who told you?’ he asked through gritted teeth.
‘I just know,’ she replied. She then turned her back to him and started walking towards the stable door.
Salim’s hand shot out to stop her and he pulled her roughly to face him. ‘I will not let you go. Do you understand?’
‘I’m not your prisoner, Salim,’ Rachael shouted back as she struggled to free her arm of his hold.
Letting go of her arm, Salim ran his hand over his face. ‘Ya Ali, why don’t you understand? It’d be foolhardy to step out of the palace. You’ll get killed the moment you do that. I’m not keeping you captive, believe me.’
Rachael looked at him. He was wearing boots. He had a sword tucked into his cummerbund. He was even carrying a rifle behind his back. ‘Where have
you
just come from?’ she asked.
Looking down at the soft damp earth, Salim began patting it smooth with his right boot. He cleared his throat. ‘You know I’m the nawab’s son. I have my duties.’ He paused, coughed and continued. ‘I had to attend the court. Some of the sepoys are getting out of hand. I’ve to help maintain law and order.’ He coughed again.
‘Oh. Can’t you ask these sepoys to stop this mutiny?’
Salim smiled. Rachael immediately felt foolish asking such a silly question.
‘It’s not so simple,’ Salim answered. ‘Thousands of people who have been made jobless – the king’s army, the king’s servants … they have all joined the sepoys in the uprising.’
Rachael did not say anything, merely nodded. Salim touched her cheek lightly with the back of his hand. ‘Go back to your room,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sure it’s a matter of days before I’m able to let you go.’
‘Are you sure you’ll be able to let me go?’ Rachael lifted a brow as a smile hovered over her lips.
Salim put his right hand over his heart. ‘Maybe not,’ he answered as his eyes plunged right into her soul. Rachael crinkled up her nose as she met his gaze. She could feel her ears grow hot and turn scarlet as she blushed.
* * *
That night Rachael flopped down on her four-poster bed, her right leg dangling. Beads of perspiration covered her forehead. She had tried everything to keep herself cool but nothing had worked. She walked over to the window. Both the windows in the room were open but there was no breeze. The air was still. Rachael sighed. She couldn’t bear this relentless heat anymore. She would go mad. She turned away from the window as Saira announced Salim’s arrival.
He walked in, looking cool and comfortable in a white cotton kurta pyjama, and held out a bunch of flowers.
Rachael looked at him and then at the gift. ‘Tuberoses,’ she exclaimed as she accepted his gift. ‘They’re beautiful. You have good choice.’
The edges of Salim’s lips lifted into a smile as his eyes swept slowly over her. ‘That I have,’ he replied.
She was about to retort when he whispered, ‘Keep them near your bed. They’re supposed to induce passionate dreams.’ He winked at her as he said those words.
Astounded, Rachael felt herself redden as she glared at him. But she could not suppress her smile. She inhaled their heady aroma. The fragrance was indeed intoxicating.
‘Sweet dreams,’ Salim whispered as he waved his fingers at her, his eyes teasing and laughing.
She let out a long sigh.
‘Anything the matter?’ he asked.
‘It’s much too warm,’ she replied.
‘Lie down,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Do as I say. Lie down.’
Rachael lay down on the bed, painfully conscious of Salim’s eyes on her.
‘No, not like that. Put your head right next to the basin.’
Rachael looked suspiciously at the exquisitely carved marble basin that stood right next to the head of the bed and put her head beside it.
‘That’s it. Now let your hair float in the water.’
‘You mean like this?’ she asked, as she tentatively let her hair into the basin.
‘Yes. Now doesn’t that feel cooler?’
Rachael closed her eyes. ‘Heavenly. I did wonder what that basin was for.’
Salim caressed her forehead gently. ‘As long as I live, you will never face any discomfort whatsoever.’
Rachael started to sit up, but he gently pushed her back. ‘Don’t get up. I came to speak to you about something, but it can wait.’
‘What is it?’
‘I … wanted to tell you where I was all day today. And yesterday. And the day before …’ He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. ‘Ah well, it’s nothing that can’t wait. It might be a long day tomorrow. Don’t know when I’ll see you again. I might have to stay at the … umm … other palace.’
‘I understand. Pray do not worry about me.’ She looked at him and grinned. ‘You’ll find me here when you get back.’
Salim smiled. His fingers lingered on her forehead for a moment and then he was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
S
ALIM
It was 30
June 1857. Exactly one month since the troops in Lucknow had revolted. Salim looked around at his fellow soldiers hiding in the forest near Chinhat, a village about six miles away from Lucknow, then trotted up to Barkat Ahmad, their commander.
‘Is everything under control?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely,’ Barkat Ahmad replied.
‘I hope they’re not more than us,’ said Salim.
‘Do not you worry, Salim bhai,’ piped Nayansukh, twirling the ends of his moustache with his right hand. ‘Except a small handful, all the sepoys of Lucknow are with us. Do not you worry; we will outnumber them for sure.’
Ahmed trotted up to them. ‘The firangis are not yet here. Do you think they’ve changed their plans?’
‘No, I’ve information they’re heading this way,’ said Barkat Ahmad.
Just then a couple of bullock carts passed by.
‘Watch how I make sure Raja Jia Lal’s strategy works,’ Nayansukh said. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted: ‘Halt! Who goes there?’
The bullock carts stopped in their path. Two men clad in vests and dhotis ambled towards them, their hands joined in supplication.
‘Where off to, brother?’ Nayansukh asked, twirling his moustache and chewing tobacco.
‘Sir, we just going to the city with some supplies.’
‘OK, listen carefully. If you pass firangis on way, tell them most Indian sepoys at Chinhat gone back as they think English not coming. Only advance guard is left.’ Nayansukh spat out the tobacco on the ground before continuing. ‘Have you understood?’
‘Yes, yes. We say it. No problem.’
‘Good. You can go now. Good day.’
A good one and a half hours elapsed before the 32nd Regiment under the command of Sir Henry Lawrence was finally seen advancing towards Chinhat. As they reached the clearing, Barkat Ahmad gave the command to open fire.
Standing behind a clump of trees with some others, Salim watched the ferocious fight and waited for Barkat Ahmad’s signal. It was strange. The firangis wore red coats. Some of his men also wore the same. Sometimes it was difficult to tell who was who. But of one thing he was certain – he would not want to be in the firangis’ position right now. They were out in the open and heavily outnumbered by the Indians, who were well hidden behind the trees and bushes.