Authors: Sangeeta Bhargava
Nayansukh’s body had been blown to bits and scattered all over the garden. Only his arms remained tied to the cannon. His head landed with a soft thud on the grass a few inches away from Salim’s feet.
The colonel now turned to Salim. ‘I will spare you your life as you brought my daughter back to me alive. But I shall punish you for molesting her.’
‘I did nothing of the sort.’
‘Lower your eyes when you speak to an officer.’
Salim lifted his chin. ‘Those that lower their eyes are either ashamed or cowards. I’m neither.’
‘Then we shall have to lower them for you. Mike, get me those iron rods and make sure they’re hot.’
Salim stood still, his feet apart, his chin jutting out defiantly. For some reason he did not feel afraid. Perhaps the knowledge that he had lost everything – his brother, his sister, his home, his kingdom, his love – and there was nothing else to lose, gave him courage.
He looked heavenward and whispered, ‘Ya Ali,’ then looked scornfully at Colonel Bristow as a firangi soldier approached him with two iron rods.
Chapter Thirty-One
R
ACHAEL
It was late in the afternoon when Rachael and Mother reached their home in the cantonment with Ayah and Ram Singh. Rachael now sat sombrely in what had once been a cheerful room, full of different hues of the rainbow. Now it was black and grey. She looked sadly at another book that was hopelessly charred and put it in the box containing objects to be thrown away. She picked up a blackened rod, then realising what it was, hastily wiped the soot covering it with the edge of her dress. Smiling, she put it to her mouth and gave a delighted trill. It was the flute Salim had given her when she had played the harmonium without making a single error.
A crow sitting on top of the roof began cawing continuously.
‘Missy baba, crow cawing bad omen,’ said Ayah.
‘It’s just a silly superstition, Ayah,’ said Rachael.
Nevertheless, she was gripped with an uneasy fear. She wondered if Salim was safe. She shouldn’t have walked away from him like that, the last time she was with him. Perhaps she should have let him explain. She wondered if she would ever see him again.
She looked around at what remained of her room and remembered her luxurious room in Salim’s palace. The four-poster bed with the legs and headrest covered in gold, the wardrobe full of exquisite Indian dresses, the silver lamp that stood in a corner, the large spittoon and betel box. And how could she forget the smooth marble basin of water that stood right next to her bed?
Salim would come to her room whenever he was in the palace to make sure she was comfortable in her new surroundings. He had said to her once that as long as he lived he would never let her face any discomfort whatsoever. He had kept his word. Everyone in the palace treated her like a princess. ‘For us, a guest is akin to Allah,’ they would say.
It was painful going through her belongings. Most of them had not escaped the flames. Everything was gone, even the music she had composed and all her music books.
She hated Sudha’s relatives for torching her home. Why did they have to destroy her abode? All this burning, killing, destroying – it was so wrong.
She wanted to run away. Yes, she would run away with Salim. Far, far away from this hatred and bloodshed. She was tired of all this misery and destruction.
Papa walked in just then, looking pleased.
‘So finally you’re here. You look happy, Papa.’
‘Yes.’ He rubbed his hands with glee. ‘Lucknow is finally in our hands once more. The rebellion has been crushed.’ He banged his fist on the crumbling wall. ‘All we need to do now is to raze the entire city to the ground. Demolish every single palace. Reduce these miserable wretches to nothing. So they never even dream of rebelling again.’
Rachael did not say anything and continued sifting through her belongings.
‘Now no one can stop my promotion. It’s been long overdue. I even put your tormentor in his place.’
‘Who?’
‘That prince.’
‘Salim? He never tormented me! On the contrary …’
‘But you said he molested you.’
‘I said nothing of the sort, Papa.’ Rachael’s voice rose sharply. ‘And this is not the first time you’ve misinterpreted what he did or said …’
Papa said nothing.
Rachael was edging on becoming hysterical. ‘Where is he? Pray tell me what you’ve done to him.’
Ram Singh entered the room. ‘Missy baba, someone here to see you urgently.’
Rachael rushed outside. Ahmed stood at the gate. Rachael walked up to him and looked at him questioningly.
Ahmed coughed and looked down at his shoes. ‘Ma’am, Salim is missing.’
‘What?’ she asked feebly. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘He went to Kaiserbagh to look for Nayansukh and hasn’t returned. I thought it might be easier to find him if you came with us.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘You’re not going anywhere with that native, especially not at this hour.’ It was Papa. He stood behind her, with his hands in his pockets.
Rachael turned to face him. ‘I am, Papa,’ she replied in a voice laced with anger.
‘Are you going to disobey me?’ asked Papa.
‘Yes, Papa,’ Rachael replied.
She pushed past him before he could stop her. She opened the gate, then looked back at him. ‘Papa, if I find that you’ve done something to my Salim, I’m never coming back to this house again … Ram Singh.’
‘Yes, missy baba?’ Ram Singh answered, joining his hands, his head lowered.
‘Come with me,’ Rachael ordered and hurriedly got into the carriage. Ahmed and Ram Singh followed. She looked out of the window as the carriage trundled along. People were fleeing in all directions. Some palanquin-bearers were running alongside her carriage. As soon as they saw a group of English soldiers appear around the corner, they dropped their doli abruptly and ran to save their lives. A hapless begum crawled out of the palanquin and looked around in terror. She had no clue how to save her life and honour, never having stepped out of her home before.
Rachael felt sorry for her. She ought to stop and help her, but no, first she must find Salim. She shuddered as they passed hundreds of men hanging from trees, necks broken, eyes popping out. She bit her thumbnail. No sound could be heard now, except the wheels of the carriage and the horses’ feet.
‘Don’t you worry, baba. We find him. He be all right,’ Ram Singh said.
‘I hope you’ll forgive him, ma’am. Salim mia, he’s … umm … very fond of you. He would’ve told you the truth if he hadn’t feared losing you.’
Rachael gave a small smile. ‘You’re a good friend, Ahmed,’ she said.
Ahmed dimpled, blushed, reddened.
Rachael stood before the palace gate, speechless. She could not recognise Kaiserbagh. The glistening white palace buildings did not look grand anymore. Rather, they stood huddled together like widows, mourning the death of their city.
It was twilight. The garden was covered with dead bodies. The three of them began searching for Salim frantically as the light began to diminish. Rachael looked at the banyan tree. It was the same tree under which she had sat with Salim, oh so long ago. They had talked about their children and grandchildren.
‘If I come back here with my grandchildren, would the tree still be there?’ she had asked.
Salim had not replied but had grinned at her instead, as he imagined how she would look when she was carrying his child.
Rachael felt numb as she looked at the dead bodies hanging from the tree. The fetid stench of death and decay was overpowering. She covered her mouth as bile rose in her throat. The only signs of life in the entire garden were the vultures picking on the dead bodies. Fattened on the ever-increasing carrion, they felt too slothful to budge at the approach of three lone living beings and continued feasting.
She gasped as a vulture scooped down and started pulling at the remains of a sepoy just a few paces away from her. Suppressing a scream, she took a hasty step back, and stumbled over a body with his face down. A glint of silver caught her eye. His hand was clutching what looked like a bracelet. Her bracelet. The one she had lost. Yes, it must be Salim.
Rachael turned deathly pale. She neither wept nor spoke. She simply stood and stared at Salim’s body and the bracelet. After a long moment she looked at Ahmed and Ram Singh. They nodded their heads. She bent down and gently rolled Salim over onto his back. It was almost dark and she could not see his face clearly. As she grew used to the dark and her eyes began to focus, she looked at his face tenderly. Her hands flew to her face and she screamed.
She stared at his face. His dark passionate eyes, eyes that often teased her, spoke to her, made love to her, were no more.
Rachael sank to the ground. Her sobs echoed through the eerie silence. Oh why, oh why did she say to him that she hated him? Why did she not try to see him again? Why did she not give him a chance to explain?
Ahmed walked over to the other side of the tree. She could not see his face. He leant against its huge trunk. His entire body shook as he broke down.
‘Missy baba,’ shouted Ram Singh. ‘He breathing. He still alive.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
S
ALIM
Salim touched the ground beneath him. It was not mud that met his fingers but bed sheets. He was on a bed. He strained but could not hear a single sound. He wondered where he was and who had brought him here. How long had he lain here?
He felt a hand touch his forehead lightly, then brush back his hair. Clutching the hand, he asked incredulously, ‘RayChal?’ He heard a movement, but no other sound. He groped urgently for her diamond ring. ‘Ya Ali, it is you. I could recognise these hands anywhere.’
She did not answer. He felt her tremble. Suddenly he felt a wetness on his cheeks. Her tears. He did not attempt to wipe them. They felt like balm. He started to sit up, winced as pain shot through him and touched the swathes of cloth covering his eyes. The memory of two hot iron rods coming towards him flashed before his mind. His entire body went taut and beads of perspiration covered his forehead. He felt Rachael’s hands on his shoulders and gradually relaxed.
‘Don’t get up,’ she whispered.
Salim drew her into his embrace. Slowly, gently, she wrapped her arms tightly about him as he clung to her. His Adam’s apple moved as her body curved to fit snugly into his. Time stood still as neither moved nor spoke.
‘RayChal, where exactly am I?’ he finally asked.
‘This is a small country house a few miles south of Lucknow. It belonged to a friend of mine. Don’t worry, you’re safe here.’
Salim nodded as Rachael gently wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
‘You came back,’ he whispered as his fingers lightly touched her cheek, still not believing she was there.
‘I was here all along.’
‘And I thought you were in England. Had forgotten me.’
‘I tried. I couldn’t.’
Salim sighed and ran his fingers through her hair. ‘You must,’ he said slowly.
‘Why?’
‘When I asked your father for your hand, he was worried how I would support you. Now I have even less.’ Salim clutched his bedsheets till his knuckles turned white. Even the thought of that firangi made his blood boil. He was going to kill him one day. Run his sword through each of his eyes.
Get a hold on yourself, Salim, he chided himself. Not in front of RayChal. It seemed she had nursed him back to health. The last thing she deserved was his anger.
‘My father is no more,’ Rachael said through gritted teeth.
‘What?’
‘He destroyed …’ She hesitated, struggling for the right words. ‘Something close to my heart. Do you know how it pains me every time I look at you?’
Salim heard her sniffing and blowing her nose.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You must hurt so much more.’
‘Maybe not,’ he replied gently. ‘At least I don’t have to look at it …’ he said, pointing to his face. ‘Do I look that hideous?’
Rachael caressed his hand. ‘They say people in love always look beautiful. Their faces glow with an inner light.’
‘In that case I don’t think we need candles anymore.’
Rachael laughed. It sounded more like a sob. She pressed his hand firmly. ‘We’ll pull through, Salim,’ she sniffed. ‘I don’t know how, but God knows we will. I’ll make sure we do.’
Salim nodded and gently kissed her hand. ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘As long as you’re there.’
Salim got out of bed early the next morning. He felt a lot better today. But his head still hurt, especially when he moved. He had only walked a couple of paces when he stumbled over a stool. The candle stand that stood on it crashed to the floor.
‘Ya Ali! I won’t leave that Colonel Bristow. He reduced me to this. I will take my revenge,’ Salim muttered through clenched teeth.
‘Salim mia, who are you planning to avenge?’
‘Ahmed, how is Ammi? Is she safe? Where is she?’
‘Sit down first.’ So saying, Ahmed made Salim sit on the bed and sat down next to him. ‘She’s in Bundi. She’s carrying on her struggle against the firangis from there.’
‘We should go there and join her.’
‘We will, Salim mia. Don’t get agitated. We’ll discuss this later.’
‘Why later? I’m fine now. So what if I can’t see. I’m sure I can make myself useful. Plan out the strategy, organise … You know, Ahmed, day and night there’s just one face I see. Colonel Felix Bristow! I want my revenge, Ahmed. I feel like scooping out the eyes of every single firangi with my bare hands. That fiend took my sight. I want to take away something from him that will make him pine for the rest of his life.’ He clutched the sheets in a tight grip. His knuckles turned white as he did so.
‘You’ve already done that, Salim mia.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Rachael has sworn never to speak to him again. And you know how much he loved her.’
‘Wh—?’ Salim heard the rustle of skirts and stopped speaking.
‘Did someone say my name?’ Rachael queried.
‘Y-yes, Ahmed was just saying that RayChal is going to be here soon, so he better be going.’