Tikkipala (31 page)

Gradually through the months that followed, Devi understood from Maw the things that had happened to his people. She told her father, ‘You must do something about it. Find some way to help this tribe, whose whole life style and culture has been taken from them for the sake of profit.'

‘He is not in touch with reality,' the Raja told his daughter at first. ‘You can't believe the things he says.'

But gradually the Raja started to be curious about the tribe in the high jungle. Had they really developed another and altogether different but perhaps not inferior culture and technology? ‘I would like to see this place,' he decided at last. ‘Perhaps there is some connection between these tree people and my missing brother.'

‘By now, Maw says, they must be starving because everything about their world is shattered,' Devi told him. ‘We should take food and other things to help them.'

So in June the Raja and Devi went back to the palace in the hills and took Maw too.

By then the road up into the high jungle was much improved. It only took two days, and the Raja sent a dozen of his own people ahead to prepare for his own and his daughter's night on the way. The Raja and Devi, accompanied by Khan and Maw, stopped at dusk, half way up, to find that a glamorous velvet tent embroidered with
silken flowers had been set up. It was swung with tassels and hung with bells and inside silk carpets, satin cushions, and swinging from its centre a great chandelier glittering with the light of a hundred candles.

Devi, who had always disapproved of her father's extravagant and comfortable lifestyle, scowled a little and felt regretful that this was not like their last trip when she had slept in the back of the car and Khan had slept in the front. Khan, however, was delighted. His body had not been made for cold nights and uncomfortable bedding. He liked his food to be hot, rich and freshly prepared and not cold meat out of a tin and served on a metal plate. In their efforts to compensate the Raja and his daughter for the outlandish place in which they were destined to spend the night, the Raja's servants had created a meal even more lavish and decorative than if they had been at home. Silver trays of spiced kebabs and sizzling mutton curries competed with salads of vegetables carved to look like flowers. Real flowers stood, arranged with Constance Spry perfection, in crystal vases, not the vulgar weighty blooms of the jungle which might well have snakes or scorpions in them, but rosebuds and lilies brought up from the city in chilled containers. The Raja and his daughter had both been provided with feather bedding, and the driver had been given accommodation among themselves, but they had been uncertain of the status of the boy called Maw.

Next day, as they came ever closer to the place where Maw's tribe had once lived, he became increasingly tense. As they approached the peak all his greatest fears were realised. As far as the eye could see now were stumps and destruction. The forest was missing for ten miles in every direction and the place now roared with machinery and smelled of burning and petrol.

Then he saw, through the trees, some of the people of his tribe, and the sight made Maw sadder. They were squatting on their haunches, apathetic and dejected, among a huddle of shattered branches by a heap of sawdust.

A year ago these people had been tall and beautiful. They had held their naked bodies upright and their lustrous hair had flowed like black water down their backs. Their eyes had shone and their skin had glowed. Now they squatted, and their once lovely bodies were dressed in the ragged garments of the Coarseones.

‘Filthy creatures,' laughed the lumber men. ‘Although they look enough like humans for us to insist they cover their dirty bodies, in reality they are only a kind of monkey.'

Another, winking slyly, said, ‘Not in all ways. When it comes to sex they are human enough. These females will let us fuck them in exchange for a chuppati.'

‘I had a fuck with a pretty girl in exchange for a banana,' laughed another.

Maw felt sick when he understood what they were saying. As he stood staring at the crushed and humiliated remnants of his people, one of the lumbermen took a bite from a sandwich and then, with a scoffing laugh and as though feeding a dog, flung the remainder to a tribal woman with a baby. She snatched it and began frantically tearing off small pieces and putting them into the mouth of her emaciated child. The child seemed very weak and could hardly swallow the food.

The laughter of the lumbermen was brought to an abrupt halt by Devi, shouting ‘You bastards. How dare you.'

The man who had thrown the sandwich blinked in amazement. ‘But Madam, what have I done? This was a hungry creature and I gave it food.'

He stayed sitting in the car. He did not want his people to see him wearing the clothes of the Coarseones who had destroyed them. Maw felt ashamed.

‘I can see what you mean, darling,' the Raja said to his daughter. ‘These people have been treated most unfairly and I will contact Sita Timbers, and together see if we can arrange for them to be fed and housed. We might even get the doctor to do a monthly visit, for some of them look in bad physical shape.'

‘That is not what they want or need,' cried Devi indignantly. ‘They are people who live in trees. All they need is to be given some area of jungle with assurances it won't be felled. They just need food and shelter to keep them going till they have built up their lives again.'

The following day, as they returned to the hill palace, Maw was very silent. Devi, who could feel his sorrow, put her arm around his shoulders in an attempt to comfort, but as usual he quickly brushed her hands away as though their touch troubled him.

Back at the palace, the Raja prepared to write to Mr Dar, describing the plight of the tree tribe.

‘Perhaps he will listen to you, though when I wrote to him before, he was very unhelpful,' Devi said.

‘What did you write?'

‘I asked him to at least limit the damage to the jungle, but he was totally inflexible.'

‘Things are a little different now,' said the Raja. ‘At that time no one knew that people were living in the high jungle. But now that Dar knows about them, I'm sure he will want something done. No one in business can afford to be seen as an exploiter of tribal people.'

The answer to the Raja's letter came a few days later.

‘I have no intention of wasting any money on these tree people. If you think they have needs, provide them yourself. As for leaving some trees standing, I have bought the license to fell them all and have every intention of doing so. By the end of this year every one will be down.'

The Raja showed the letter to Devi.

‘Can't you do something?' said Devi. ‘You know government ministers. Can't you persuade them to leave these people some of the trees?'

‘In my opinion,' said the Raja, ‘The tribe was doomed from the moment Mr Dar's Sita Timbers managed to land their first helicopter.' He caught Devi's hand and gave it a loving squeeze. ‘Come on, my darling. Don't look so sad. Come with me to the club and we will have dinner there together.'

Devi shook her head. ‘I don't feel in the mood for eating luxury food, when all those people up there are suffering.' All the same her heart started to race. Nirmal might be there.

‘Come on,' said the Raja, sensing hesitation.

‘No,' she said. ‘Why don't you listen to anything I say?'

He stared at her. ‘It's alright, darling. You don't have to come. I'm not forcing you.' He felt upset and puzzled.

When he reached the car she came racing after him, and leapt in too, panting, her face red. ‘I'm coming.'

‘Dressed like that?' he laughed. She was wearing a kurta with her jeans. ‘Aren't you going to change?' But he was delighted all the same.

‘Does it matter?'

‘They mightn't let you in,' the Raja said.

‘Maw is coming too,' said Devi.

‘Oh, no, Devi. That is impossible.'

‘Why?' She turned to the boy, who was lingering by the door. ‘Come on, Maw.'

Maw shook his head.

‘Look, Devi, in our society some things just can't be done,' protested the Raja. ‘Even Maw understands that.'

‘Just watch,' said Devi. ‘Come on, Maw.'

Maw hesitated.

‘Come,' commanded Devi.

Maw followed slowly.

The Raja would have felt proud as he entered with his daughter on his arm if it had not been for the presence of Maw. The usual ripple of horror went through the club members at the sight of the tribal boy.

‘I couldn't stop her,' shrugged the Raja. ‘She doesn't listen to me at all.'

There were a few smiles and several frowns.

Queenie wore her Paris chiffon sari and was seated in the tallest chair. She had been disappointed that her grandson was not going to marry the daughter of the Ranee of Bidwar, but as soon as Devi entered she realised that it was a good thing that no union was to take place. Apart from the fact that the girl was accompanied by a tribal fellow, she had clearly taken no trouble at all over her attire. She looked more like a boy than a girl in fact, with her hacked off hair. She wore a handloom kurta of the kind worn by bullock cart drivers, and on her feet a pair of rubber chappals so shabby that even her servants would scorn to wear them.

Queenie waved a richly ringed hand in Maw's direction and said, ‘I think this young man would be happier out the back with the other servants, don't you?'

Devi said mildly, ‘No, no. He's all right here' And to Maw, ‘Sit there.'

Maw sat.

With a glitter of rubies and diamonds and a clacking of gold, Queenie clumped up her fist in a gesture of aggravation.

The boy looked at her, holding her eyes in his gaze for a long moment, until Queenie, for once in her life, became flustered and turned away. The glance had been
so intense that afterwards Queenie felt dizzy as though she had taken a sip too many of brandy.

‘I understand you met my grandson at the Parwal Club, Devi,' said Queenie, when she had recovered. She spoke as pleasantly as she could.

‘Oh, yes,' said Devi. ‘Is he here this evening?' She felt her face go hot and hoped Queenie had not noticed.

‘Your father is giving him another chance,' Queenie said. ‘He has been sent to Bengal for another go.'

That's a good thing, Devi thought, and tried to stifle disappointment.

A year went by. Soon Devi would have completed her thesis and become Doctor Devi Bidwar. She was already considered an expert on the subject of a certain family of mineral stones. She was invited round India to speak and show slides of her finds. She talked of pleochrosim, surface lustre, Moh's hardness, specific gravity. Her company was widely sought and, as the Raja's daughter and an expert, was invited everywhere. She went on foreign trips and important geologists came to hear her. She was attractive, modern, clever. She wrote a source book on the subject of the high jungle minerals.

Maw sometimes accompanied her to local events and she began to rely on his presence as though he was a little protective brother. He was sixteen by now and had got over his early learning problems. It was widely accepted that he was heading for a brilliant career in science.

‘When are you going to do something to help my people?' he asked her suddenly.

‘Sweetheart,' she said, hardly listening. ‘Forget all that, why don't you. You've got your own life ahead of you. Concentrate on that.' She was going to Delhi for a conference.

‘But you promised,' said Maw, sitting on the end of her bed. ‘You swore to me.'

‘Did I, love? Here. Help me squash this case shut. Sit on it.'

‘A year has gone by and you have done nothing.'

She spun round and gazed at him. ‘I'm sorry. You sound cross. I will talk to my father about it, I promise. We will do something this very month.'

He stared at her silently, looking into her eyes in a way he had long since learnt not to, trying to see her thoughts. And to his surprise he saw sadness and longing. It made him flinch because he had not expected that and did not know what caused it.

The Raja arranged for food and fresh water to be delivered daily to the people of the tribe and some of the people, particularly those who had children, were by now so hungry and so demoralised that they came to the feeding point eagerly and accepted the boiled rice and meat and lentil stews of the Coarseones.

The parents ignored the protests of the elders, saying, ‘You have failed to feed our children so what other choice have we?'

The elders met in a distant part of, as yet, un-felled jungle.

On such important and sacred occasions the tribe were permitted to communicate with sound and body movements, and the important men and women of the meeting took full advantage of the dispensation, swivelling their eyeballs from one person to another and sometimes even shutting their eyes. Roaring with their voices, letting out the most piercing and discordant whistling of their ancestor vertebrae, beating with their hands and hammering with their heels they argued and discussed. In past times,
when things had been good, the children and the wild young men, listening to the rocking, whistling, roaring of the sacred meetings, felt envious, and looked forward to the day when they too would be allowed to give full vent to the sounds of which their bodies were capable. The women should have been disadvantaged at this meetings, but had overcome their lighter voices by holding thigh bone hooters to their mouths, so that their voices came out rich and booming and echoed through the jungle as loudly as a howler monkey.

‘Our people are being corrupted by the Coarseones,' shouted the oldest of the elders.

One of the old men beat his hands against a tree trunk, sending out a flurry of flying ants. ‘We must destroy the members of our tribe who have been accepting the Coarseones' food.' He was a very old man with a white beard that, like his head hair, reached his feet. ‘And after that we must do away with the Coarseones also. Those impure and evil ones must die.' Several others spoke up in loud agreement, though others shifted nervously.