Painted Ghosts, page 19
Ria helped Padma cut vegetables for dinner and took care of Krish while Sadie had a nap. It was late in the afternoon when Ria, Sadie and the baby went up to the shop and sat with Daya, watching her sell shirts and materials while her father sat at the back with a sewing machine, surrounded by fabrics.
In the evening Bijal lit a fire in the bowl, Daya and Madhu set out the blanket and brought in the food. They ate chickpeas and okra with rice and roti as it got dark.
Bijal said, ‘Very nice. Daya is taking care of you, Ria? I couldn’t live without her. She keeps the shop going, gets me customers, talks to them, smiling — and then she goes in for it — the kill — she makes them buy something.’ They all laughed.
‘Daddy. I’m not that bad,’ Daya laughed with them.
‘She is. Under the calm she is determined. She could sell you a view of the mountains — and she could seal it in a can and sell you that too.’
‘Daddy.’
He turned to Sadie and Ria, ‘Sadie, Ria,’ Bijal talked excitedly, ‘I must tell you how I became a tailor.’
‘You can’t tell them that, his wife was stern.
‘That I was a thief?’
‘A thief, Daddy?’ Madhu scowled.
‘Bijal – nay, —’ Padma scowled at him.
‘I was only a boy at the time and used to hang around the shop that sold men’s shirts. The owner, old Rajesh, used to go out the back for a cigarette. I watched him and watched him, and one day when he went out there I took one of his new shirts from the front of the shop. But as I ran out he was coming back in the front, having met some friends round the back and walked with them round to the street. I crashed into him and there was no escape: he had me by the collar. I thought he would get a policeman and have me beaten, but he was a wise and good man, old Rajesh. He knew my father had died and I was the eldest son and had to get money for the family.’
Padma added: ‘Bijal had to stop going to school and go to work when he was eleven.’
‘Old Rajesh said,’ Bijal went on, ‘“We are going to make a tailor out of you. I need help here. You run about for me and make tea, and when you are ready I will show you things, and I will pay you.”’
‘What a good man he was,’ Padma said.
‘And how we end up in life,’ Bijal mused. ‘We do not know our path. Good old Rajesh taught me all I needed to know, all the skills and all the contacts. And when he got too old, he handed the shop over to me because his sons had gone off to work in Delhi.’
When they had finished Sadie and Ria began to help clear the dirty dishes, Madhu excused herself to study, while Daya talked to her father, ‘I promised I would take that man’s jacket to his house tonight, now that it’s finished.’
‘You stay with Ria and Sadie and look after them. I will go. It is too dark for you,’ Bijal said going inside for the jacket, returning with it over his arm and heading for the village.
‘He loves you all,’ Padma smiled as she piled up empty bowls and headed for the kitchen. ‘But you know he forgets things.’
When the washing up was done and things put away Ria found herself alone with Daya around the dying embers of the fire. Daya got it going again with paper, twigs and a small branch.
‘It was never easy for my mother,’ Daya said. ‘Her father was always drunk, there was no money. She had to help her mother cleaning schools. She would have done well herself at school, but had to leave it so she could clean it. Can you imagine that? She has the brains of Madhu, she could study in her day. And she holds it all together even when things aren’t going well—’
‘What do you mean?’ Ria warmed her palms over the glow.
‘Daddy-ji has not been his usual self. Oh, he makes everyone laugh, but—’
‘What?’
‘He was drunk in town last week, so drunk he was struggling to stand up. Mummy found him and got me to bring him home. I’ve never seen him like that before. And now he keeps forgetting things. He would have forgotten about the jacket if I hadn’t said. And when I got him home mummy said something that really shocked me. “All men are weak at heart. They will tell the world how clever they are, but really they are weak. I thought when I married your father that he would be strong and go out and shake the world, but he could not. And I looked at men, and at women, and I saw that I had to be strong.”’
‘He makes everyone laugh,’ Ria said.
‘Yes, he does, he’s good to us.’
‘You help him keep his business going, he’s lucky he’s got you.’
Having put Krish to sleep, Sadie joined them, standing over the fire and warming her hands. ‘I’m going to take the ashes—’
5
‘Tomorrow?’ Daya glared at Sadie the next morning. ‘It’s too soon.’
They had cleared away breakfast things, Madhu was inside studying, Padma was looking after Krish and Bijal was at work.
‘People keep telling me to put it off. I’m doing it tomorrow afternoon.’
‘You must wait,’ Daya urged her. ‘Daddy-ji and Mummy-ji want to come, and Madhu. And there’s relatives from Punjab and Delhi. They all need time. And Mummy-ji will want a priest.’
‘Ijay didn’t believe in all that stuff,’ Sadie folded her arms.
Ria said, ‘We have to have some sort of ritual, Sadie. He belonged to them too.’
‘I’m going up to the rock on the field on my land and who wants can come.’
The low flat thud of a lone drum beat sounded for a time then stopped.
‘All right,’ Daya said, ‘I’ll tell them.’
‘I’ll have Krish,’ Sadie directed. ‘You can carry the box, Daya,’ and correcting Ria’s puzzled stare went on, ‘The box. The ashes, Ria.’
‘Let my Daddy say: “Shanti, Shanti, Shanti.” It means: “Peace” —’ Daya looked over at Sadie.
‘Whatever.’ Sadie went inside and came back out with Krish. The sound of a single drum beat was coming from up the track that led to the road and the women stopped talking and turned to look. Ria had heard its singular rhythm before and it had left her cold.
They watched the figure approach down the path singing. ‘Shanti, Shanti, Shanti.’
Madhu came out of the house, breakfast cereal in a bowl and phone in her other hand as the drummer stepped up to the veranda still banging and chanting.
For Ria at first she was a stranger, a tall woman dressed in a white and gold sari, not new, but not yet rugged. What passed for gold earrings hung from her lobes, and she had several gold-like necklaces, and myriads of bangles along her arms. Her eyes were heavily made up, the rims with strikingly bright black. Her cheeks were over heavily rouged and her lips sparkled vermilion.
It was by her muscles that Ria recognised her, the thick manly biceps — the figure who had accosted her along the village road.
‘You have a good English boy.’ The drummer stopped, bending to the baby. Unafraid, Krish chuckled up at the new face but Sadie turned and pulled him quickly away.
Padma ran from the house, face in hands and laughing with joy, and the drummer gave her a smile.
‘Daya?’ Ria quizzed.
‘Hijra. Not man. Not woman.’
‘Ah yes. He was on the road when I came—’
Undeterred, the drummer thudded the hand drum again and gave a twirl. Ria was filled with a mixture of confusion, dread and admiration.
‘Good English boy.’ She pointed with her drumstick, ‘I like a good English boy. He will grow up like Shiva-ji, strong with light. The gods of the mountains will protect him.’
The family stood aghast. Ria expected Krish to be the most terrified of all, but he was giggling in Sadie’s arms.
Ria looked to Daya for leadership, but she turned to Ria with an expression that seemed to say: ‘This is not going to be easy.’
‘Shanti.’ The dancer spoke clearly with a throaty voice. ‘I bring peace. I bring blessings on you all and I come to you with god’s blessings and love.’ Turning to Padma and bowing she said, ‘Auntie. Blessings on your house. Blessings on all.’ She turned to them and bowed to each, saying Shanti. You will have good luck and fertility in this house, there will be good fortune. Love will flow here with the power of the Ganges River.’ Seeing Krish in Sadie’s arms her face lit up. ‘New boy. Baby. You will be clever like Lord Krishna and strong like Shiva. From England.’ Sadie stepped back, Ria at her side. ‘A good English boy. I like. I bring good blessings and love to you.’ Sadie grimaced at the figure, pulling Krish aside. ‘To you all. May all your days be fruitful. May your mothers have boys. The gods of the mountains will protect this little one—’
Padma clapped her hands with happiness but Madhu next to her was scowling. Daya looked over at Ria.
‘I will bless the boy today.’ The hijra dismissed resistance with a glance of her hand. ‘I am Diksha. Dickie to the friends I have here. Hijra. I bring him good luck. He will be blessed all his life. Good health, good marriage, good wealth. He will have many children. With all the power and ancestry of hijra I will bless this boy from England.’ Ria stared at her, the mountains looming behind her. ‘Auntie,’ the hijra turned to Padma again, who returned a smile. ‘Let me bless this boy in your house and let me bring the good luck from the gods upon everyone. This is a day of celebration. A new life, god’s creation.’
‘You can go now.’ Madhu dropped her spoon in the cereal, but her mother pushed forward.
‘Nay,’ Padma scolded her daughter. ‘Nay.’
Ria’s whisper to Daya was full of tension, ‘What will he do?’
Dickie turned to Ria, sending her a laugh of recognition and giving her a wink. ‘Madam from the West. You bring us beauty. You love our mountains, white and glassy. We bless all baby boys, make them fertile and protect their line. We give them the spiritual wisdom of Shiva and his strength. This boy will rattle mountains. Beautiful boy from England. Who is his sweet mother?’ She bowed again to Sadie. ‘It must be you, madam.’ Sadie pulled the baby away.
Dickie stood still, held her hand out to Sadie, but she stepped back. ‘The boy from England must be blessed. What is his name? He must have a name.’ The family exchanged glances. ‘I will give him a name. After a god. Lord Krishna, perhaps.’
Padma gasped, then dashed inside the house. Ria could see Sadie was disturbed that Dickie had got the baby’s name right.
‘You can’t have him,’ Sadie said. The sun was behind Dickie, shaping her in silhouette.
‘You must leave him,’ Ria pointed at Krish as Padma came back out of the kitchen with a plate of Indian sweets and offered it Dickie.
‘No mummy,’ Madhu told her mother, pushing Padma’s plate of goodies aside. ‘We send him away.’
‘You’re frightening my baby,’ Sadie shook her head at Dickie.
Padma was still holding up the plate, as if in supplication to a god. ‘The baby laughs, he likes her.’
‘I am Dickie,’ she went on ignoring the hostile looks. ‘I come in peace to bless the precious child. He will eat curd and play the flute like Lord Krishna.’
‘You’re not touching him,’ Sadie edged further back.
Padma offered the plate up again and Madhu pushed it away again, but Padma would not be stilled. ‘She will curse us.’
‘All he wants is money.’ Madhu waved at her. ‘You think these blessings are for free?’
Padma was shaking. ‘We pay. Then she will not curse us.’
Daya stepped forward to Dickie and whispered until Dickie replied. Daya shook her head and they talked again.
Daya turned to the group. ‘Twenty thousand rupees.’
Padma clasped her hands anxiously. ‘Must pay, we must.’
Madhu said, ‘No.’
And Sadie followed with, ‘You get nothing from me.’
‘Two hundred quid?’ Ria gasped.
Sadie cradled Krish. ‘It’ll scare him to death.’
‘The baby likes him.’ Padma insisted. ’Dickie is gentle with Krish.’
‘Two hundred pounds,’ Sadie yelled. ‘For what?’ Curling her arms round the child she retreated near to the kitchen doorway.
Dickie beat a slow rhythm for a moment.
Padma held on to the plate of sweets, her hand trembling. ‘They will curse us, my daughters will not marry, their sons will die—’
‘Rubbish they tell you, Mummy,’ Madhu cut in.
‘No one’s going to pay that much,’ Ria laughed, shrugging.
Daya leaned towards Ria, her tone measured. ‘This is a hijra. We’ve got to find a way.’
‘I will bring blessings and good luck to your son and all your family for generations,’ Dickie addressed Padma. ‘You will have love and money. You will have lots of sons.’
‘Two hundred quid,’ Ria sighed, shrugging, ‘I don’t think so.’
Madhu urged her mother. ‘You can’t let him do this.’
But Padma stood her ground shakily. ‘She will curse us.’ And looking in her youngest daughter’s eyes, ‘You want to live, or die. That family in the mountains spat at a hijra and did not pay. The husband died one week since.’
Madhu dismissed her mother with a wave as Dickie went to Padma and put her arm round her. ‘Auntie knows the love of hijra. I will take you to the banks of the Ganges River and we will bath and purify our bodies, like I purify little Krish here.’
‘We are not a rich family,’ Daya said. ‘This is money to live on for months.’
Dickie eyed Ria. ‘England is rich. This is pocket money.’ The authority with which she spoke shook Ria.
‘This will kill Mummy-ji —’ Daya appealed to Ria.
‘I can’t just—’ Ria began, but Daya nudged her and Ria went to her bag and rummaged, pulling out some ten pound notes which she took to Dickie, thrusting them in her hand. Ria hoped as she turned her back on Dickie that she would go quickly.
Dickie rolled out three ten pound notes. ‘I think you will pay more for a good blessing. This is an English boy. Very special. Special rates to pray to the gods and purify him.’
‘We have no more,’ Ria held out her empty palms.
‘You shouldn’t give him anything,’ Madhu said, crashing her bowl on the side, the milky cereal slopping out. ‘They steal boys. Do things to them. Take their manhood.’
‘We only take those that are ours,’ Dickie said quietly. ‘You need not be afraid if you treat hijra with blessings.’
‘Sing, then go,’ Daya instructed.
Dickie drummed a little, danced a few steps then sang:
‘Little boy in the glass mountains, lost and new.
Baby child with skin like Krishna’s blue.
Come from the snowy peaks to bring us joy.
Love, O love, sweet glorious boy.’
Then she stopped and drew breath. ‘You pay now.’
Padma threw her hand to her mouth. ‘Krish — He will die in a week.’
Sadie said, ‘Leave us alone.’
‘Like his father, he will die young,’ Padma said.
‘His father died in a car?’ Dickie nodded.
Padma put her hand on her heart. ‘Dickie knows, she has the inner eye.’
‘We have to give her something more,’ Daya urged Sadie who was sitting with Krish on her lap. ‘She will not do any harm.’
Ria was scared a moment by the revelation about Ijay’s accident and glancing over noticed Sadie looked shaken. Someone could have told Dickie about Ijay, rumour probably got about through villages, but it seemed unlikely, although somehow Dickie knew an English boy was here.
‘Pay him, for god’s sake, Ria. You’ve got it. Pay him.’ Sadie nodded to her.
‘Like his father, he will die young,’ Dickie carried on matter -of-factly.
‘Go,’ Madhu yelled.
Ria reached into her bag again and turning her back on the group dived her hand in. Pulling out several twenty pound notes, she offered them slowly to Dickie who snatched them and stuffed them quickly down the breast of her sari.
Dickie danced, flipping her arms out as she twirled in circles. Ria was quickly entranced, finding her movements somehow beautiful and ungainly at the same time. Performed by someone who clearly admired the art-form and was sincerely attempting something of it, Dickie was heavy footed. Ria both admired and resented her courage and the sheer determination of demanding money and attempting graceful steps. Something made her shrink back from this formidable figure though, who forced herself on those likely to surrender to her, and those superstitious enough to be fearful of a curse.
